Page 54 of Duke It Out
He stalks out of the library, leaving me out of breath and feeling like a fool for wanting it, even for a moment.
23
EDIE
Three kisses would be way easierto handle than three awkward encounters. A week later and I’ve immersed myself in work. I haven’t let myself think for even a second about the way his fingers tangled in my wet hair.
The structure is laid out, the timeline is clear, and the inconsistencies… well, I’m working on that bit. But it’s that magical moment when it all starts to make some sort of sense, and I can feel a little bit of pride creeping in.
And I’m avoiding Rory like the plague. Not consciously, more… tactically. Because I’ve had three encounters with him over the last seven days and every single one has left me feeling like I’ve left the house and forgotten to put any clothes on.
Exhibit one: after a long day staring at my laptop, I take a drive up to see Kate and visit the new foals. The sun is shining, the spring grass green, the air full of the sound of birdsong and hints of summer. My heart feels like it might explode with the beauty of it all, tinged with the vague senseof regret that as the weeks pass, the reality that my time here is limited starts to hover in the corner of my mind.
“Can you go and grab me a headcollar from the tack room?” Kate says, leaning over the stable door. She’s pushing a stocky grey mare out of the way, laughing as she does so. “This madam is liable to make a run for it if I let her out into the yard. She thinks she’s a racehorse, not a Highland pony.”
“Of course.” I head across the neatly swept courtyard, humming to myself. I push open the heavy door that leads into the gloom of the tack room, inhaling the scent of well-oiled leather and saddle soap that reminded me of childhood riding lessons. And there’s a broad-shouldered and unmistakable shape in the darkness, lit up as I switch on the light.
“Afternoon.”
“Shit,” I say, grabbing my heart. “You gave me a fright.”
His brow lifts almost imperceptibly.
“What are you doing in here,” I say, putting my hands on my hips.
Rory looks at me steadily, his face giving nothing away. He inclines his head towards a saddle on the rack in front of him. “If you can’t figure that out,” he says drily, “we are in trouble.”
“Oh, you’ve been riding.”
It would be really helpful at this point if my brain would stop replaying the library kiss on a loop.
“I have.”
I can’t work out if there’s something in the air, some sense of tension or a hint of what happened the other day, or if it’s just him looking at me as if I have one brain cell.
“Lovely weather for it,” I say with a bright smile, and grab the wrong headcollar before making a hasty exit.
Exhibit two: I’m in the corridor outside the library, my arms full of files. I walk around the corner and crash straightinto the solid wall of his chest. His naked chest. He’s got a crisp white towel around his neck which shows off the tanned skin. The scent of his freshly showered post-workout body hits some sort of olfactory jackpot button in my brain and my knees give a very definite wobble, making it harder than it ought to be to pick up the folders that have fallen onto the parquet floor. My dignity collapses like a deckchair.
Our eyes meet as we both try to grab the last folder at the same time and our fingers brush for a fleeting second.
Rory pulls his hand away as if he’s been burned.
“T-thanks,” I stammer.
“My pleasure,” he says, so quietly it’s almost a growl.
And then last night was exhibit three: when we ate dinner together with Janey, who joined us to discuss the safe houses project, which we’re going to see later today. Seeing him relaxed and chatty with her, as she put him at his ease, just underlined how awkward things are between us. Yes, he asked me polite questions about my writing, and Janey proudly told him about my would-be novel and how much she’d enjoyed reading it.
The moment when Janey cheerfully said how good it was to all be working as a team left a silence hanging in the air which seemed to last about ten minutes, but she seemed completely oblivious to the atmosphere, getting up to clear the plates and bringing back a delicious apple crumble and custard Gregor had made because I’d swooned over it the week before. Somehow, that had almost smoothed the atmosphere over. But as I stood to leave, I’d turned back to the table to see Rory looking at me for an unguarded moment, and the expression on his face was not polite at all.
And then he’d looked away, and I’d wondered if I’d imagined the whole thing.
I shut my laptop now, resisting the urge to replay every second of that dinner with forensic detail. Instead, I head for the morning kitchen in search of a coffee to take outside to the walled kitchen garden. It’s bursting with life as if someone somewhere flicked a switch. In the last week or so everything has been misted with the faintest green haze and under the huge glass roofs of the greenhouses, rows and rows of tiny plants are reaching out their leaves in search of warmth.
I find Janey in the kitchen clutching a dishcloth with a worried expression. Her hands are braced on the windowsill and she’s gazing outside, staring into the middle distance.
“Everything okay?” I grab a mug and head for the coffee machine.
