Page 72 of All Summer Long

‘Dance with me, pretty girl?’ Robinson linked his hand through hers and lifted it against his shoulder, holding her close with his other hand on the small of her back, old-fashioned chivalry that brought a lump to her throat. This was their first official date, and already their last ever dance. She laid her cheek against his solid, warm chest and moved with him to the music, his chin resting on the top of her head. Alice had been on a fair few dates and even to her own wedding, but this was by far the most profoundly romantic moment of her life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

They sat out on the deck and dangled their bare toes over the water, skimming stones and murmuring about the accidentally amazing summer they’d shared.

Alice dipped her toes into the water and watched the ripples. ‘What will you do when you go home?’

Robinson sighed, his arms braced straight at his sides, his palms flat on the deck. ‘Concert’s in three weeks. There’s rehearsals, and Marsh will already have a schedule of PR junkets and radio interviews lined up. It’ll be a crazy time.’

She hadn’t really been asking him about work. ‘And Lena?’

Robinson thought for a while, his eyes on the water. ‘You know, Alice, when I arrived here I brought so much more baggage than just my suitcase and my guitar. I brought my bitterness, and my anger, and what was left of my love for Lena. I couldn’t work, couldn’t think straight. Spending the summer here in Borne with you changed all of that.’ He shook his head, looking pained as he found the words. ‘Before Lena … before she did what she did, I thought I had life all pretty much all worked out. Right career, right woman, right life.’ He shrugged. ‘I was wrong about at least one of those things.’

Much as Alice wanted to ask him which one, she didn’t. ‘It’s turned out to be a more life-changing summer than I’d bargained on, too.’

‘Then I guess you could say we’re even,’ he said softly. ‘You fixed me, and I fixed you.’ He hi-fived her. ‘Good job, partner.’

‘Who knew sex therapy could be so successful,’ she laughed, tearful.

‘Especially with me being a sex addict, an’ all,’ he said, rolling his eyes and muttering an obscenity about Marsh.

‘Our holiday romance would never survive out there in the real world, would it?’ she said after a while, missing him already.

He shook his head, wistfully. ‘You belong here, and I belong back in Nashville. You have this screwball, wonderful life here that suits you perfectly. You’re part of the fabric of this place. You need to be in Borne.’

Alice loved that he understood her so innately, and she also knew that what he was going to say next was going to be harder to hear.

‘My life isn’t here, Alice. Back home it’s high octane, full throttle a lot of the time, endless rounds of publicity and all the stuff you’d hate. I can’t change that. As people, we fit, but we still don’t belong together. Our lives are just too different.’

She leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder.

‘It was pretty magical while it lasted, though, wasn’t it?’

‘Best ever.’ He wrapped his arm around her and kissed the top of her head. ‘And we still have tonight.’

‘I want to remember it for ever,’ she said, finding it hard to see the lake through her tears.

‘No pressure, then.’

She shook her head. ‘None. I’ll remember it as the best night of my life even if we just sit in silence and stare at each other.’

He slanted a sidelong glance at her, breaking her heart with his lopsided grin. ‘Can we be naked while we do it?’

Alice bumped her shoulder into his. ‘Manor or Airstream?’

‘Absolutely the Airstream.’ He stood up and held his hand out to help her up. ‘Come on. Let’s end this thing in style, Goldilocks.’

At The Siren, Brad sat at the bar nursing a swollen nose and his third tequila when an outlandishly glamorous woman stormed in and hurled herself onto the only other barstool. She glanced briefly across at Brad and looked away, and then looked at him again, only longer.

‘You’re him,’ she drawled. It was one of his absolute favourite things, to be recognised in public, but even with just two words Brad knew she must be connected to the other two Americans in Borne, one of whom had set him up and the other one had smacked him live on breakfast television that morning. Despite her lithe body and attractive face, he didn’t warm to his new drinking buddy at all.

‘And you’re who?’ He didn’t even attempt to sound interested.

She flicked her long glossy hair over one shoulder. ‘Lena Duff. I do believe that my husband is sleeping with your wife.’ Her accent and delivery made the line sound straight out of an episode ofDallas. Even Brad was impressed, and he signalled to Dessy for a second shot glass. Dessy slid it down the bar along with the bottle and then left them to it with an inhospitable growl of ‘I’ll put it on your bill.’

‘He always did have a good left hook,’ she said, eyeing his nose.

‘Lucky punch,’ Brad tried to feign nonchalance. It hurt like buggery. ‘Brad McBride.’

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