Page 12 of One Golden Summer
“That’s not what the tabloids are saying.” Ginger made goo-goo eyes.
“Who do you believe? Your own sister or people who peddle rubbish?”
“Touchy!” Ginger looked to Kirsty. “Maybe we should start a matchmaking business, because my sister has terrible luck with women. But who am I to say anything? You two are planning my divorce party. Isn’t this a strange world we now live in?”
Saffron met Kirsty’s eyes, this time seeing not a conniving woman, but something else that could be even more dangerous. Whatever it was, Saffron couldn’t trust it. Swearing to tread carefully to avoid getting hurt, she leaned back in her chair, feeling more secure staying silent. No matter how pretty the words or the messenger, people were all the same in the end. No one wanted Saffron for who she was, just for what she could do for them. Kirsty may not be using Ginger to get to Saffron, but the woman could still be trouble.
Chapter 5
Kirsty scanned the wine aisle in her local Sainsbury’s, taking note of her competition. Wine Time couldn’t hope to compete with their pricing, but what they had on the big supermarkets was a better selection as well as personal service. Their weekly wine tastings were gaining in popularity, and she hoped to add more. Kirsty put her basket of food through the self-checkout, slung her reusable bag on her shoulder, and headed back out into the sunshine.
After being in the air-conditioned supermarket, the outside warmth smothered her. The summer was shaping up to be a good one, which was fabulous news for Sandy Cove’s tourism. Kirsty had already started to see the boost in their sales from the Down-From-London weekend crowds. She passed The Croissant bakery, its window decorated with Union Jack bunting and pastries in the shape of fishing boats and oysters. The windows of Threadless, the town’s haberdashery, were adorned with knitted waves, along with shipwrecked sewing machines. Meanwhile, the post office had gone to town with the fishy theme, complete with sand, shells, fake oysters, and rocks. Kirsty was late getting to Wine Time’s festival display, and the competition was already heating up.
She walked past Nick’s News, pleased to see they hadn’t decorated yet either. She wasn’t the only slacker in town. However, their window did have a selection of magazines. On two of the front covers, Saffron Oliver’s face stared back at her—or rather, herGirl Raceralter ego did. She was dressed in miles of tight black leather, her hair impossibly golden, her eyes arrestingly blue. Now she knew why she’d recognised Ginger’s gaze: it was a carbon copy of Saffron’s.
Kirsty had seen theGirl Racerfilms like every other lesbian with a pulse, and Saffron’s stare had stayed with her. Kirsty even had a dream where Saffron pulled up on her bike and told her to hop on. Just thinking of her dream, where Kirsty had straddled her bike and locked her arms around Saffron’s waist, sent heat to Kirsty’s cheeks and a rush between her legs. She closed her eyes and steadied her breathing.
She’d made such an idiot of herself yesterday. Why hadn’t Ginger told her who her sister was? Of courseKirsty had a thing for her: she didn’t know one lesbian who didn’t. However, they all might think twice if they met her. Saffron had proved herself to be self-centred and obnoxious. What was it they said? Never meet your heroes. Saffron Oliver had demonstrated the cliché was totally correct.
Kirsty shook her head and turned to carry on walking back to her flat. However, when she looked up, Saffron was walking towards her.
Shit.
Her mind scrambled to fully obliterate her recent thoughts, but it wasn’t easy.
Did she have time to look down or cross the road before they made eye contact?
Too late. Saffron gave her a brief wave.
Kirsty gave her a reluctant smile.
Saffron’s blond hair had that effortless style about it as it danced on her shoulders. Did movie stars use different hair products as opposed to mere mortals? Kirsty could ask her. But she’d probably get a snappy response. She wished she’d never mentioned the divorce party to Ginger now. How could the sisters be so different?
Remember, she was an idiot to you yesterday. She is far from the image she portrays.
Saffron came to a stop in front of her, giving Kirsty a half-smile. “Just the person I was hoping to bump into.”
Those were not the words Kirsty had expected to hear. She wouldn’t have been surprised if Saffron had crossed the road to avoid her. Yes, they’d told Ginger they’d work together, but Kirsty was fully expecting Saffron to sack her any minute. It might be for the best.
“I wanted to apologise for yesterday. We got off on the wrong foot, and that’s my fault.”
Kirsty glimpsed her reflection in Saffron’s aviator sunglasses just before Saffron took them off. She tried really hard not to be flummoxed by looking the object of her sex dreams in the face, but it was pretty distracting. If anything, Saffron was more gorgeous in real life than on-screen.
It didn’t change the fact she’d been an arsehole, though.
“I’m sorry I accused you of using me for your business. I don’t trust many people because every time I do, they betray me. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if the paparazzi didn’t turn up soon as I’m sure somebody’s already told them I’m here.”
Saffron’s baby blues were so mesmerising, they were verging on criminal. “Maybe that’s true in your world, but this is Sandy Cove. We look after our own here, and Ginger counts as that now. You’re her sister, so you do, too. I won’t tell a soul you’re here, okay?”
As if to demonstrate the small-town feel, Shelley from ‘Seaside Surprise!’ gift shop walked by. She gave Saffron a smile, then tapped Kirsty on the arm. “We had that bottle of red last night with dinner. It was delicious and went so well with the steak.” She didn’t wait for a reply, just carried on walking.
Saffron stared after her. “I guess this isn’t what I’m used to. But I’m hoping to relax into my stay here. It would be good not to have enemies so soon. What do you say? Can we start again?”
Kirsty pursed her lips. “You’re going to play nicely and not throw your rattle out of your pram?” She couldn’t quite believe she was saying that to Saffron Oliver, but she was.
“I promise. And if I do, you can tell me to stop being a tit. Okay?”
That made Kirsty laugh. Maybe there was hope yet for the movie star. “You’re on. I look forward to calling you a tit in the not too distant future.” She shifted her shopping bag up her shoulder.
