Page 38 of One Bed

Because she’d been happy to have someone sharing her home, her own man, thrilled to return to the comfort and security of what she knew how to do –and that was to look after someone –she’d never allowed Gerry to learn that lesson, either. She’d bent and buckled, all the time. Her life with Gerry, like her life with her dad, had revolved around keeping him happy and comfortable.

Gerry’d been a sloth, a serial cheater, and a man-child, but because she’d been so desperate to feel useful again, believing she could only be loved because of what she did, not who she was, she’d given him everything, including a licence to walk all over her.

Was she, by picking up after Gib, sliding back into those old bad habits?

God, what a terrifying thought!

She looked at Gib and found he was watching her. He lifted an eyebrow, silently asking if she was OK. Why did he want to know? Why did he care? And why did her heart lift every time he showed a little consideration when he noticed her? He was simply dressed, in tailored shorts and an open-collared shirt, sleeves rolled back to show off his delicious, muscled forearms. He’d shaved this morning, but a hint of stubble now dusted his jaw and chin, and his nose was a little sunburnt from spending too much time outside.

Hot, handsome, confident, charismatic … he made her stomach tumble and her core warm. She could cope better if it was simple attraction and lust … but he was also intelligent, reticent, impatient, solid. Snarky. And shelikedhim. Far more than she should.

Golly lit up a cigarillo and looked from Bea to Gib. ‘So, how did you two sort out your sleeping arrangements?’

Bea glared at her, annoyed by the intrusive question. She didn’t look at Gib, but knew he’d loathe Golly’s probing, too. ‘That’s got nothing to do with you, Golly,’ she snapped.

She wasn’t surprised when Gib stood up and pushed his chair under the table. His face was as hard as granite, and his eyes conveyed his annoyance. Yep, the man hated being questioned. On this occasion she didn’t blame him, Golly had stepped way over the line.

‘You’re not going to stay for dessert?’ Nadia asked him.

His reply was curt, his words clipped. ‘Thanks, but no.’

It was obvious, to Bea at least, that he’d had enough and desperately needed some peace and quiet, to not talk to anyone. She was surprised he’d lasted this long. She looked at him, caught his eye and mouthed a quick ‘Sorry.’

His shrug was tiny, but there. She saw him glance at the kitchen door and knew he wanted to bolt.

‘Goodnight, Gib,’ she said, understanding his need to leave.

His eyes flashed his gratitude. He took a minute to thank Golly, a little curtly, said a brief goodnight and left the room. Bea watched him and as soon as he opened the door, his shoulders dropped an inch.

When she knew he was out of earshot, she looked at Golly and shook her head. ‘Seriously?’

‘What did I do?’ Golly asked, confused.

‘Gib doesn’t like personal questions, and he hates people prying. Just give him some space, OK? I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but pleasetry.’

Golly looked at her through a haze of smoke. ‘What’s his story?’

Bea didn’t know and even if she did, whatever Gib told her (and she didn’t expect him to say anything at all) would stay between him and her. She pointed a finger at Golly. ‘He’s not a puzzle you need to solve.’

It was a good reminder for her, too.

‘Good God, there’s no reason to bite my head off,’ Golly snapped.

Bea thought she was being remarkably restrained. She was stressed, determined to make sure this weekend went off well, and she was sharing a bed with a man who could be another Hemsworth brother, someone she was stupidly, massively attracted to. She had hard career decisions to make, and she hadn’t made any progress on plotting book ten, or her new series. She wanted to run down the road screaming, possibly naked, but she was holding it all together with gossamer-fine threads.

Bea remembered that she was going to call the twins, and swiped Golly’s screen. She looked at her godmother. ‘Why amIdoing this, by the way?’

‘You came to live with me when you were sixteen and you can’t make a call for me?’

Bea rolled her eyes. After her dad’s death, she’d wanted to stay on her own, something her mother supported, but Golly wouldn’t hear of it, so she’d moved her into her Belgravia house. Unlike her mother, Golly wanted Bea with her, so she didn’t take her passive-aggressive comment seriously. With Golly, you had to look at what she did, not what she said.

Golly cocked her head, her expression brightening. ‘I’m sure I heard a car. The twins are here! Oh, by the way, Bea, your mother wants to join the party on Saturday night,’ she added, far too casually.

She had to be joking. And if she was, it was a shitty one. ‘Not funny, Golly.’

‘Not joking, Beatrice.’

Golly couldn’t seriously be thinking of allowing Lou to visit, could she? This weekend – and her life –was currently complicated enough without adding her horrible and toxic mother to the proceedings. ‘Golly, please don’t let her come. I have so much to do, and I can’t deal with her, too. Please tell her she’s not welcome––’

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