Page 24 of One Bed

‘If I start to get cold, I’ll run up to Golly’s room and steal one of her pashminas.’

‘If I was going, I would’ve loaned you my jacket.’

If he was going, his jacket would cover her dress, would smell of his light, citrus-and sea cologne, and would be warm from his body heat. Much nicer than a pashmina.Not helping, Bea.

Lifting his wrist, she pushed back the sleeve of his hoodie to look at his watch, which seemed like it had been worn a time or two. Its face said Rolex Oyster. Wasn’t that the same one she saw onAntiques Roadshowthat was worth a few fortunes?

‘Nice watch,’ she told him. ‘It looks old.’

‘It was my father’s.’

There was a story there, one she was desperate to know. But he wouldn’t ever tell her. Gib wasn’t the talking type.

Bea finally took in the time and grimaced. ‘I need to get going.’

He nodded at her shoes. ‘You’re walking on rough paths in those?’

‘My godmother would have several kittens if I attended her cocktail party in anything but heels, Gib.’

He walked over to the door and picked up the flip flops she’d stepped out of earlier. ‘Wear these on the path and slip into your heels at the end of it.’ When she hesitated, he shook his head. ‘I think you have enough to do without having to deal with a sprained ankle.’

She looked at the flip flops in his big hand, unexpectedly touched. Gerry had never thought about her or considered her comfort. She’d always been the one ten steps ahead who remembered to put petrol in the car and slide an umbrella into her bag on overcast days. The one who’d locked up their flat and done the grocery shopping. Gerry was an ‘artist’, a ‘creative’ and couldn’t,shouldn’t,be expected to remember the mundane. Ironic that her stories sold, and his songs never did.

It felt weird, and lovely, to be the object of a man’s thoughtfulness. Using his arm to balance, she swapped shoes, surprised when Gib tugged her heels out of her hands and let them dangle from his fingers. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. It was such a little thing, but it meant so much.

‘I’ll walk you up.’ Gib went over to the front door, pulling it open and using her shoes to gesture to her to go before him. Manners, too. He flipped off the light switch and pulled the door closed behind him and they walked out into the kind of magical light that could only be found at the end of a still-hot Greek day.

Gib placed his hand on her back and guided her onto the path that led to the pergola and the outdoor entertainment area overlooking the caldera. It was a spectacular place to hold a cocktail party and the perfect place to watch God paint the sky with blues and purples, oranges, reds and pinks. Bea shook her head at her romantic thoughts—this is not a romcom, Beatrice!

‘Who will be at that party tonight?’ Gib asked her, dropping his hand. She immediately missed it.

She had to think. ‘God knows. A few of Golly’s friends, the ones who are in Santorini already. Some of Golly’s local friends, too, I imagine. She’s been coming here for a long time, and she’s well-known on the island.’

He was quiet and Bea inhaled deeply, the air tinged with lavender and oregano and the sea, mixed with Gib’s delicious scent. The breeze was cool – she kept forgetting it was autumn! – but it would die down when the sun sank below the horizon. She saw hints of purples and pinks in the sky and knew Golly’s guests would be treated to a spectacular sunset. Of course they would, Golly wouldn’t stand for anything less.

‘Are you looking forward to the party this weekend?’ Gib asked, his deep voice rumbling over her skin. ‘Will you know a lot of the people coming?’

‘Yes, I’ve met many of them through Golly.’

‘I keep meaning to ask you what you do for a living.’

Shit.Shit.She thought she’d dodged that question. So she trotted out her bog-standard answer, hating, for some reason, the need to lie to him. ‘I inherited some money from my father when he died, and I work part-time as Golly’s assistant,’ she told him. Inheriting money wasn’t a lie, but Golly had an assistant back in London who was brutally efficient and practically ran her agency.

There was something about Gib that made her want to confide in him, to tell him who she was. And that was so strange, because she was very used to keeping everything tightly controlled, locked away in its separate compartments. But here he was strolling through her mind and picking open those locked chambers, trying to peep inside.

And she wanted him to.

God, she was in a world of trouble here. And she’d only met this guyforty-eight hours ago!

‘It looks like the path smooths out here,’ he said. ‘Do you want to swap shoes?’

Just around the corner was the esplanade, pergola and outdoor bar. The happy sounds of people talking and laughing rose and fell, and a violinist played modern classics on her hauntingly beautiful instrument. Finding someone to provide music, as Golly demanded, had been difficult, but the young girl Cass had hired was talented.

‘Did I ask Cass to pay her?’ Bea mused out aloud.

Gib didn’t miss a beat. ‘Remind her when you see her. You need to put on your heels, Bea.’

She nodded, held onto his arm again, and swapped out her shoes. She left her flip flops on the side of the path for the return trip later and stepped onto the smooth concrete path that wound up the slight incline to the top of the hill. She looked at Gib, his face in the shadows.

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