Page 45 of Anything but Easy
Then he kissed me, right on the lips, right in the middle of the festival, before stepping back and continuing to drag me along to the house. We went in through the patio doors and I waved to Bunty and Millie as we tore past them. He opened the first door he came to, pushed me inside and shut the door behind us. We were in the pantry. The walls around us were groaning with tins, snacks, jams, all sorts. He was staring at me again. To break the tension, I picked up the nearest packet of biscuits.
“Jammie Dodger?” I asked, waving it at him. His lips twitched but he ignored the offer.
“Why did you sneak off this morning?” he asked, taking a step towards me. I took a corresponding one back and he narrowed his eyes.
“I . . . I didn’t sneak off,” I semi-lied.
Truth was, I hadn’t really wanted to wake him this morning and have an awkward convo. It may have been a bit craven of me, and I was generally not a coward, but after that night, that incredible, mind-blowing night and after sleeping pressed up against his huge, glorious body, IknewI wouldn’t be able to have a rational conversation.
And I was a rational person . . . ish. I knew my dalliance with Barclay was not going to end up with love and rainbows. Together, we didn’t make sense. Not for his political career and not for my peace of mind. I might have been a risk taker in most other aspects of my life, but when it came to my heart I was anything but. If I was honest with myself, I had never really invested in any of my previous relationships; I’d never risked getting hurt. My ex cheating on me hadn’t come as a huge surprise. I guess I’d been hardwired by the lack of interest my father had shown me as a child to expect very little from men. But with Barclay the strength of my feelings was scary, and thanks to Smarmy Simon my confidence had been eroded to such a degree that I couldn’t imagine Barclay seeing me as a viable option. What I did know was that Barclay would be the kind of man who would definitely want to discuss where we stood, at length, because he washonourable.
Blurgh!
Well, if I’d been subjected to hishonourablediscussion this morning, I knew I would have cried. I would have been a great big soppy mess and I had no intention of letting that happen in front of Barclay Lucas. So, yes – I had carefully shimmied from under his huge, warm arm, and yes, I had tiptoed around the room to get dressed. But in my defence, I did have to be here to help set up at six. There was a legitimate excuse for my clandestine escape.
“Bunt Fest doesn’t happen by itself, you know?” I told him, putting the Jammie Dodgers back on the shelf and my hand on my hip, in an attempt to mask how nervous he made me – or just how much I wanted to fall into him and kiss his handsome face off.
“You should have woken me,” he said, glowering down at me still, the pissed-off vibe filling the small space.
“It was five-thirty in the morning. Nobody wants to be woken up at five-thirty.”
“Iusuallyget up atfive.”
Of course he did.
I sighed.
“Look,” I started, my voice coming out small, but I couldn’t seem to make it any louder. “What would have been the point in waking you? We . . .” I broke eye contact to look down at my feet and contemplate my toenails, which Rosie had painted electric blue earlier. There were sequin badgers affixed in the middle. “To be honest, I was expecting the olddon’t get the wrong ideaspeech, and I wanted to save you the bother.” I was mumbling now and still couldn’t meet his eyes. My stupid nose had started prickling – a sure fire sign of impending waterworks. “I know last night was a bit of fun and I’m the blooming Queen of Fun Town, no explanations needed, right? I just don’t think I can do any more casual kissing, if that’s alright.”
“Kira, look at me,” his voice was soft now, the hard edge of anger no longer in his tone. “Please, darling.” I frowned at the endearment. That was not what I would expect from him at all (although if I had to pick an endearment that Barclay would use, a posh one, straight out of a P.G. Wodehouse novel would be top of the list).
He took a step closer. I was already pressed against the shelves behind me so had nowhere to go. His hands came up to cup my jaw on both sides and he used them to tilt my head back so I had to meet his eyes. I blinked a couple of times in an attempt to clear the moisture that I could feel swimming there. “I don’t know what you thought I was going to say to you this morning, but it’s certainly was not about you getting the wrong idea.”
“Well, what am I supposed to think?” I snapped, getting a little annoyed now. “You said yourself after Kitchengate that it was a mistake. You couldn’t get out of there fast enough.” He opened his mouth to speak but I sliced a hand through the air to cut him off. “And that’sfine. Last night was fine. I’m not asking for anything else and I don’t need you to do the honourable thing and explore my feelings.”
“Last night was . . . fine?” he asked, that edge of anger creeping in again.
“Yes, I–”
“It didn’t seem justfinewhen you were screaming my name.”
My mouth fell open and I stared up at him. What on earth? Talking about me screaming his name did not compute as part of his Honourable Brush Off Speech.
“Or when you had tears in your eyes because what we did was so goddamn amazing. That did not seemjust fineto me.”
Humiliation shot through me and I felt my face heat.
“B-b-bugger off,” I choked out, in real danger of cryingagainin front of him. I tried to push past him to get out of the door but he moved to block my way. “I’m telling you I’m happy to let you off the hook but nooooo . . . that’s just not enough for Mr Repressed and Prideful. No, I have to admit how I’ve never felt like that with anyone before and that I . . .” I sniffed and then hiccup-sobbed, my hands coming up to cover my face. “Let me out of here!” I said in a desperate voice I barely recognised as my own.
“Shit,” he muttered as his hands cupped my elbows and gently travelled up to my hands to pry them away from my face. “Kira please,pleasedon’t cry.” He stepped towards me and my forehead hit his warm chest. His smell assaulted me again as his arms closed around me and I felt like I’d come home. So much so that I melted into him, my hands going to his chest, feeling his steady breathing. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t come here to . . . Christ, I’m royally cocking this up, aren’t I?”
I shrugged. He was confusing me. Was he seriously telling me he wanted to give us a chance?
“I’m not trying to make you admit anything,” he told the top of my head, murmuring into my hair and rubbing my back with his large hands. “Last nightmeantsomething to me. I . . . I just reacted to the word ‘fine’. It wasn’t just fine. I know I wasn’t the only one to feel that.”
I sniffed and shrugged again.
“And I amnottrying to give you the brush off.”
