Page 16 of One Bed

Bea met his eyes and after a few Ice Ages had passed, she spoke again. ‘I haven’t shared a bed, or my space, with anyone for a long time. It feels … strange.’

Funny that, to him, sharing a bed with her felt completely … well, he didn’t want to say right, or natural … but it hadn’t been a big deal.

Bea waved her words away. ‘I’m not leaving the cottage, but you can have the bed. If I don’t manage to get into Fira today, I’ll sleep on the divan.’

Gib looked into the cottage and saw the butt-ugly couch-with-no-back. It looked like a medieval torture rack. He walked over to it and sat. It creaked ominously as the wood shifted. Seriously? He lifted his eyebrows and lay down on it, his feet dangling off the end and his shoulders nearly as wide as it was.

Don’t do it, Caddell, don’t…

‘It’s damn uncomfortable.’ Using his core muscles, and hoping Bea wouldn’t notice, he lifted his body an inch and slammed it back down under the pretence of shifting his weight as he tried to get comfortable. As he expected, and just as Bea walked back into the cottage, a sharp crack ricocheted through the cottage and his butt fell into a deep dip in the divan.

‘Crap,’ he said, looking up at her. Had he really gone out of his way to sabotage a piece of furniture so that she would have no option but to share the bed with him? Had the little time he spent in the Greek sun fried his brain? This wasn’t who he was, what he did. What was next? Was he going to sabotage her rental so she couldn’t drive anywhere?

It would be easy enough to remove a spark plug… Jesus, he was losing his shit.

When he’d seen her standing next to her car talking to Golly and Reena two days ago, her wavy hair blowing in the wind, his heart had bounced off his ribcage. Looking at her, something unfurled within him, a recognition he never expected to experience. He could bullshit and tell himself he remembered her from his childhood, but that wasn’t the source of what he was feeling. It went deeper than that, and wasn’t wanted or welcomed. Something he’d never experienced before.

He'd only ever indulged in surface-skimming relationships. They suited him, and he didn’t have to worry about how many hours he worked a week or checking in with someone when he abruptly left for a business trip. He loved his slam-the-door-closed-and-leave life, and how it didn’t matter if he spent six weeks in New York when he’d only intended to stay a week. The only people he checked in with were Hugh and Navy.

He was a free agent, and helikedhis life.

But Bea… Jesus, there was something about her. She intrigued him. Her fabulous blue-grey eyes, the colour of mist reflecting off the sea, held a thousand secrets and he wanted to know each and every one. How did she come to be Golly’s goddaughter? Where did she go to school? Was she a morning person or a night owl? Did she sob or scream when she came?

He loathed personal questions, but he wanted to know everything about her.

Gib frowned. He wasn’t thinking straight. She wasn’tthatfascinating, she couldn’t be. He’d dated female CEOs and catwalk models, ballerinas and professional athletes. Bea wasn’t his type…

He was overreacting, possibly because he hadn’t had sex for far too long. And this place, God, you couldn’t help noticing how fucking romantic it was. It was timeless. The buildings, the flowers, and the breath-stealing views of the aqua-blue-green water and the wild beaches, the rocks and the endless sky made one think of the romance of sunny days and long, balmy nights.

It was also the one place where he’d experienced true, soul-deep happiness. Uncomfortable with the direction of his thoughts, Gib pushed himself out of the broken divan and rolled to his feet. He eyed the couch. It really was a piece of shit. He lifted it with ease and peered at the fabric underneath. A piece of wood poked through the ratty fabric.

Gib lowered the couch to the floor. ‘Guess I’ll be buying your godmother another…’ He shrugged, then winced. ‘I don’t know what to call this?’

‘A hot mess?’ she suggested, shaking her head. ‘And there is no way I’ll let you replace it, it should’ve been tossed away fifty years ago. I can’t think why it hasn’t been, other than the fact that up until now, the cottage has always been a repository for furniture Golly didn’t know what else to do with. Besides, I think I can still sleep on it, I’m not as big as you.’

There was no way he was going to let her spend the night on it, but he’d argue about that later. He knew what battles to pick and crucially, when to pick them. So he changed the subject. ‘What are your plans for the day?’

She sent a longing look towards her computer before wrinkling her nose. ‘I need to sort out the lights for the cocktail party. And help Cassie with the set-up.’ She sipped her coffee and looked at him over the rim of the pottery mug. ‘Oh, there’s something I need to ask you. Last night at dinner Golly told me to invite you to lunch today. And be warned, she’s going to invite you to her cocktail party tonight, so have a good excuse ready.’

‘You’re assuming I wouldn’t want to go?’ He didn’t, but he was interested to find out why she thought he’d baulk.

‘You said you wanted privacy and quiet. I presumed that attending a cocktail party was the opposite of that.’

She’d presumed right.

‘Why are you craving solitude, Gib? Are you running away from an ex, did you have a breakdown, are you in trouble with the law?’

Personal questions, even when asked in a jokey tone, made him itchy – they were nails across his mental chalkboard – so he looked past her to the view of the bright sea behind her.

‘I didn’t ask you what your bank balance is or what your worst memory is,’ Bea prodded when he didn’t answer.

He opened his mouth to tell her he was overworked and peopled-out but snapped it shut, keeping the explanation behind his teeth. He wanted her, was attracted to her, he wanted to breach her wall of pillows. But he’d been attracted to a lot of other women, slept with many of them and he never felt the urge to open up. Why Bea?

Bea shifted on her feet and rubbed the back of her neck. ‘Right. None of my business.’

She looked around, saw her flip flops by the front door and moved towards them. She slid her feet into them, and he eyed her legs, long and lovely below the band of the hem of her fitted, sky-blue cotton shorts. She’d loosely knotted a button-up shirt and her face was makeup free, showing off the light freckles on her nose and cheeks.

He scrubbed his hand over his face. Maybe he should go back to bed to reboot his brain, because it sure as hell was glitching.

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