get a grip on them. I wasn’t sure what I did want, which was why the phone was staying mute. In one way I was Miffed – and yes, miffed with a capital M. The dictionary definition – annoyed by something someone has done to you – summed it up perfectly. I wasn’t mad at Sam, but I was miffed at the situation. Miffed that despite all the feelings he’d professed, Victoria still came first, and yes, that was me being contrary, but despite my sympathy for her I still had a strong sense of my own self-worth. I wasn’t prepared to be messed about. So, when I received his first text – SORRY – all-caps just wasn’t going to cut it. I switched my phone off. Childishness, ten. Maturity, nil.
Ten minutes later, while in the shower, I realised I’d made a grave strategic error in switching my phone off. Shelley would have been expecting an update on the date and, given patience didn’t feature in her DNA, she could batter down the door at any moment. And, right on cue, there was a heavy knock at the door.
Still tucking the towel in above my chest, I pulled open the front door. ‘I knew you couldn’t – Sam!’
My mouth really did drop open and my heart turned a couple of back flips in quick succession, making me light-headed and disorientated. He was absolutely the last person I was expecting. He didn’t even know where I lived … except he patently did. For a minute I stared at all of that glowing good health and handsomeness standing on my doorstep, his still damp blond hair bundled in a ponytail as he gave me a hopeful smile.
‘Hi. I wondered if you fancied coming canoeing?’ He gestured over his shoulder to a car with a bright red canoe on a roof rack. ‘I’ve got a picnic lunch. No phones. No interruptions. Just you, me and the ducks,’ he paused. ‘And abject apologies. I’m really sorry about last night. You haven’t responded to any of my texts. And I don’t blame you. What sort of bloke dumps his date for his ex? I just never expected her to do that. She’s beside herself and it’s so out of character; it scared the hell out of me. I was worried what she might do. Please give me a second chance.’
At the sight of his open face, his blue eyes brimming with sunshine, honesty and that earnest regret, all my good intentions wavered. My whole system had been poleaxed, and the sight of him stirred a yearning that I’d never felt before. I did want to spend time with him. There was a pull between us that hollowed out my heart. My brain leapt in with a stream of logic as if trying to cushion my emotional response and give it permission to move forward. He’d been hijacked last night; he deserved at least to be allowed to apologise. And wouldn’t it be sad to deny that insane attraction shimmering between us that promised so much?
My brain kept bombarding me with reasons to say yes and, suddenly, being miffed seemed rather petty and really not my style. I don’t normally sulk or brood and I don’t like people who do. Sam deserved that second chance.
‘I just need to put some clothes on.’
‘If you must,’ he sighed, his eyes crinkling with a naughty smile.
I raised a reproving eyebrow and watched as his face sobered as he realised he had a lot of work to do to earn my forgiveness. Leaving the door open, I turned tail and dashed up the stairs.
Tugging a brush through my hair, I yanked it into a high ponytail, sprayed a ton of deodorant under my arms – the weather forecast was for another scorcher – and pulled on some underwear. Everyday white cotton underwear this time. I’d wasted the good stuff on him last night; he wasn’t getting a second chance on that front. But vanity made me dig out my Daisy Dukes, which did good things for my legs, and a skimpy vest top which did nothing for my uncontoured chest but did enhance my fine collarbones and smooth shoulders. All the while I felt the fizz of excitement and hope, and when I clattered back down the stairs, I couldn’t help the big smile on my face.
‘That was quick,’ he said with a quick appreciative smile, still lurking in the doorway.
‘No point wasting this glorious weather,’ I said, looking up