Page 67 of That Island Feeling

The room is dimly lit with the gentle glow of two iridescent pink clam-shell lamps. I don’t want to ruin the intense sexual tension that’s simmered between us since dinner as we knocked feet under the table. I’m still amazed that I had the nerve to make the first move, but I’m glad I did.

‘My parents,’ I offer. ‘My mum was quite sick for a while – she passed away a couple of years ago – and I think I mentioned my dad has dementia, he’s in a home now, but unfortunately I’ve had plenty of nursing experience.’ I say it quickly, eager to move on.

Jack’s concerned gaze flickers over me as he draws the quilt corners together with practised ease. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Andie.’

A sharp pain shoots behind my ribs.

Please, I don’t want to get into this now. In fact, I’ve been very much enjoying not thinking about it. Jack is like a built-in thought blocker.

He grins and a cool wave of ease envelops me.

‘So a hospital regular, huh? That must be the secret behind your world-class first aid too. I had no idea the adhesive side of the bandaid is meant to go on the skin.’

I pull a face at him, my insides fizzing with delight.

It’s like he can sense what I need. Even the lilies he gave me as we left Moorings came just as I was starting to worry that I’d been too forward and that I was reading the situation all wrong. But before I could get lost in my doubts, there was the sweet posy of flowers. Jack couldn’t have known about the significance of lilies or the emotions they stirred in me, but his constant, thoughtful gestures remind me of how desperately lonely I have been, and how I’d forgotten that desire like this even exists.

‘Due credit must also go to Snoopy and the Little Mermaid,’ I say wryly.

‘Absolutely.’ His green eyes brim with adoration.

Though the mood has shifted slightly, tension still lingers heavily in the air.

‘Can you help me with this?’ he asks, gesturing to the doona.

Our hands brush as Jack passes the length to me, sending a jolt of electricity down my arms. Once the bedspread is in place, he produces a box of loose red rose petals.

‘Honeymooners?’ I ask.

‘Ha, close to. I’m helping the guy who’s staying here win back his ex.’

‘Well, that’s a bit romantic.’

I follow Jack’s lead, taking a fistful of delicate petals and scattering them across the freshly made bed. My heart quickens with each petal that lands onto the crisp white sheets, their soft fragrance filling the room.

‘Are you going to make some of those towel swans now?’ I tease.

‘As a matter of fact –’

‘Oh my God. You are!’

Jack’s skilled hands twist and fold two bath towels into a pair of kissing swans. I can’t help but imagine those confident hands on my body, my blood whooshing loudly in my ears as I replay this morning’s steamy shower kiss.

‘What do you think those swans will be witnessing later tonight?’ I ask innocently, as Jack arranges the origami animals on the bed amid the sea of rose petals, adjusting their necks to form a perfect heart shape.

‘I’m sure it will be positively X-rated. My poor sweet friends,’ he coos, affectionately patting the birds nestled in the centre of the bed.

‘Should we rescue them?’ I suggest.

‘And take them where, exactly?’ A long pause stretches between us, a coy smile playing on Jack’s lips.

‘Mm, I’m not sure . . .’

Holiday hook-up rule number four: Have fun.

I swallow, throat dry. ‘Maybe into animal witness protection . . . back at yours?’ I finish.

Oh God, oh God.

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