Page 4 of Hooked On The One That Got Away
The lock was close now. The oldest locks dated back to the 1600s and were still an object of fascination for people. It was hypnotic, watching the water in the lock gradually lift or lower the boat, to give it easy passage to the next stretch of river. The currents could be strong around locks, so swimmers were advised to keep clear. Time for Willow to turn around.
She bobbed, treading water for a moment, and looked about her. A few walkers on the towpath, most with happily panting dogs. One kayaker in the distance. A couple on the lock overbridge. They appeared to be fastening something to the wire railing – Willow squinted to see. Apadlock?
The couple then kissed, passionately and joyfully.Oh. It’s a lovelock. They’ll have their initials engraved on it. How romantic.The lockkeeper would probably remove it with a bolt cutter the minute they were gone, but that didn’t matter. It was the gesture, and the symbolism. Of their love and commitment to each other.
Willow sighed. Her arms felt suddenly leaden, heavy like her heart. It had been so long since she’d been kissed. A year today, in fact. A whole bloody year. The night Charlie left, she remembered too well. He’d come to bed after her, pulled her to him and kissed her so hard her entire body flooded with desire. Charlie normally put her orgasm first, but that night he’d been almost rough, taking just enough time to ensure she was wet before entering her, and filling her to the brim with strong, urgent thrusts. He’d shoved his hands under her rear and yanked her closer to him, his muscled hardness connecting bangon with Willow’s centre, igniting a sudden orgasm that burst through her like fireworks, leaving her stunned and breathless. She’d gazed in astonishment at Charlie’s face above hers, his eyes black with lust, his mouth taut apart from a small, satisfied hitch to one corner. Then he’d closed his eyes and come, almost lifting her off the bed with the force of his final thrusts. For a moment, he’d rested his head on the pillow beside hers, and then he’d lifted it and stared down at her.
‘I love you, Willow Taylor,’ he’d said.
She’d laughed. At the joy of the unexpectedly intense, perfect sex. At Charlie’s unusually serious expression, and at the strength of love she felt for him.
‘Love you, too, Charlie McKay,’ she’d replied, and stroked his shaggy hair off his damp forehead. He’d lifted himself out of her, and they’d curled up together in a warm tangle and fallen asleep. And when she’d woken in the morning, he was gone.
Willow was annoyed to find the memory had made her cry, and even more annoyed that she couldn’t wipe her eyes owing to her hands being as wet as her face.
Get a grip, Willow ordered herself.And get moving before you get hypothermia.
Slowly, she kicked off again, back upriver, every stroke feeling like an effort. The kayaker she’d spotted earlier was paddling her way, so Willow kept over to the right. She calculated that they would pass her close to the cluster of trees. There was enough room. Willow wouldn’t have to go too near to the bank.
Without warning, the kayaker suddenly changed course –and started heading right towards her! Atspeed! It was the swans all over again. Only this time, she was pretty sure the kayaker wasn’t murderous; they just hadn’t spotted her.
No point in yelling out. The kayaker had a helmet on, and probably earbuds in underneath. Nothing for it except to seek shelter beside the trees and wait until they’d passed.
As she approached the tree-lined bank, something small flicked past her vision, and she felt a sharp sting on her shoulder. A wasp? A horsefly? Whatever it was, she could still feel it, tugging now on the cross-back of her swimsuit, caught by whatever insect part might get trapped. Willow didn’t want to give that too much thought, but she reallydidwant it off her. Trouble was, she couldn’t see it, and shecertainlywasn’t going to try to grab it.
Yikes, it waspullingat her! As if it was trying to tow her towards the bank! What kind of monster bug wasthis? Panicked now, Willow flailed her hand around over her shoulder in the hopes she might knock the insect off her – and made contact with a taut, thin plastic thread. A fishing line! Some stupid idiot had hooked her!
‘Oy!’ Angry now, Willow yelled towards the bank. ‘Stop pulling! Your line’s caught in my swimsuit!’
From among the trees, she heard a distant, ‘Shit.’ A person emerged, holding a fishing rod. Their face was filled with concern.
Their face was also horribly, gut-churningly familiar. Willow felt her stomach clench and fought the urge to throw up, but she managed to croak out one word. ‘Charlie …’
The mouth on the face dropped open, then said, ‘Willow?’
Chapter Four
The shock had shut down Willow’s capacity for rational thought. All she could do was tread water and splutter. Charlie seemed equally stunned but was quicker to recover.
‘I, er – can I get you unhooked? You’ll need to swim a bit closer.’
Getting closer to him was thelastthing Willow wanted to do. However, she didn’t have much choice. The hook was firmly lodged where she couldn’t reach it. Now that the initial shock had subsided and Willow’s brain could function again, she could see why Charlie had chosen this spot to fish. The tree branches were clear of the water, and the curve of the bank had created a still pool, sheltered from the current. Charlie had a rod licence, but he’d never been a serious angler. He’d preferred sitting in a quiet spot, and if a passing fish chose to take his bait, then that was great. If they didn’t, his day wasn’t spoiled. Willow could easily guess that he hadn’t expected to catch a person, let alone his former girlfriend. What were the odds ofthat?
Once more, she had a sense that she was being somehow manipulated by outside forces – but she couldn’t dwell on it. She dog-paddled over, and Charlie squatted down to remove the hook, before holding out his hand to help her up onto the bank.Willow considered leaping like a salmon and swimming away as fast as she could. But that would be undignified, and more importantly, would only be postponing the inevitable. Charlie was back, and she may as well face that fact – and him – right now.
For a year, she’d tried not to imagine bumping into Charlie, as it felt far too painful. But the odd time she’d done so, she’d pictured herself looking her absolute best. She hadnotbeen dripping wet, and in a garish swimsuit, unflattering cap and goggles that would leave unattractive red ridges on her face when she took them off. She had to take them off, though. They were fogging up.
Charlie was staring at her, and it took all of Willow’s emotional reserves to return his gaze. Her heart was pounding uncomfortably at the base of her throat, and her stomach fluttered and flipped. Part of her wanted to throw her arms around him and sob into his chest. Another part wanted to punch him into next week. Yet another part was frantically searching for something sensible to say. Again, Charlie beat her to it.
‘You’ve taken up swimming?’ he said, then grimaced. ‘Captain Obvious here, at your service.’
No, thought Willow.He has norightto make jokes. Norightto be so goddamn fucking casual!
‘Sorry.’ Charlie had read her expression correctly. ‘I just – this is a massive surprise, and I don’t really know how to handle it. Resorting to jokes as always. Sorry,’ he said again.
Willow was cold now, and the adrenaline spike of the shock was fading. She began to shiver.
‘Shit, you’re freezing.’
