Page 66 of Riding the Waves

Lizzie shook her head. “I don’t think he’d sleep with you and it only be about sex. You have kids together – it’s too messy and has the potential for too many problems.”

“But maybe when I was throwing myself at him, he wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”

“He was probably just thinking about sex,” Scarlett added needlessly.

At least her tactlessness lightened the atmosphere since Amy couldn’t help but crack up laughing. Lizzie and Emily joined in too, until Emily complained that laughing was entirely uncomfortable and might cause her to wet herself.

“I suppose the only way to know for sure what’s going on is to ask him,” Lizzie said as she calmed down.

“I think you’re probably right. Except that feels very grown-up and rational. Also, if he tells me he was just scratching an itch, I don’t know how I’m going to deal with that.”

“Call us if you need anything,” Emily said. “Advice or a good rant.”

“Or help to start rumours about his tiny little thing,” Lizzie suggested. “We’re good for anything really.”

“Maybe he’s just being cautious because of the boys.” Emily hauled herself off the couch and rubbed at her lower back. “I’m sure everything will work out perfectly.”

“Just remember she writes romance novels,” Scarlett said. “Emily’s never surer of anything than a happily ever after.”

CHAPTER 33

Amy supposed she could have just called Damian, but she told herself it would be better to speak to him in person. Which meant she’d have to wait until his parents left. He’d messaged and invited her to dinner with all of them on Wednesday evening, but she’d claimed she had work to do.

It wasn’t entirely untrue – Lizzie had asked her if she could go through a bunch of submissions and see if anything jumped out at her and to set aside anything that was definitely unpublishable. Initially, she’d been horrified by the idea of crushing people’s dreams, but Scarlett had pointed out that there weren’t so many barriers to being a published author these days since anyone could self-publish. That meant she wasn’t taking away anyone’s dreams of publishing, just the specific dream of publishing with Hope Cove Press. Lizzie had joked that she should definitely feel bad about that.

It kept her occupied anyway. That and working her way through all her newly purchased books and some lovely long walks along the coast and a couple of visits to Verity’s cafe for her famous scones.

She was actually quite surprised by how pleasantly the week was passing. Of course, her thoughts drifted to Damian frequently, but she was trying not to panic about the situation. All she could do was wait and see how things developed.

On Friday afternoon, she arrived back at the bungalow after a long walk. Her feet were aching and she kicked off her shoes before heading to the kitchen. Halfway to the sink, she registered her feet were wet. It took another moment for her brain to process that the entire kitchen was swimming in an inch of water.

Panic hit her at the thought that she’d left a tap running or done something else to cause the problem. There was nothing obvious though. Automatically, she opened the cupboard under the sink but wasn’t even sure what she was looking for amid the dirty water under there.

Ignoring her instinct to call Damian, she made the more sensible decision to call the person in charge of the holiday let instead. Lizzie’s husband, Max, answered the phone after a couple of rings, and she quickly filled him in on the situation while escaping out onto the patio.

She was still out there when he arrived ten minutes later and had to wade back through the kitchen to let him in.

“I think it’s mostly contained in the kitchen,” she told him, showing him in. “I didn’t even know where to start with cleaning it up.”

“No worries.” He stopped at the doorway, scanning the area before splashing through to the sink in his flip-flops. “There was a problem with the pipe under here last year. It was supposed to have been fixed, but it doesn’t look like they did a very good job.

“Hello!” another male voice called from the front door.

“Kitchen!” Max called back.

“Reinforcements are here,” Jack said, frowning at the water. Amy had met Emily’s husband earlier in the week when they’d had lunch in the pub. He’d been serving at the bar.

Behind him, Damian wandered in. “I was having a drink with Jack,” he said, tipping his chin in greeting. “Heard you’d sprung a leak.”

Her heart went wild at the sight of Damian. “I went out for the afternoon and came back to this.”

Jack crouched to look under the sink with Max. “It’s not that long since they replaced the entire plumbing system. The owners won’t be happy if it was a botched job.”

“Do you have any idea how long it might take to fix?” Amy asked.

“Not really,” Max replied, straightening up and dusting off his hands. “Hopefully just a couple of days. We’ll need to find you somewhere else to stay. The cost will be covered, but I’ll have to call round hotels and see where there’s availability.”

“Okay.” Amy sighed and looked at Damian. “Not the end of the world.”

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