The Spark - Jules Wake Page 0,42

flourish towards the contents of the fridge. ‘I’ve got it all under control. Two steaks.’ He pointed to the dark-red meat on the bottom shelf. ‘Corn on the cob.’ Again, he indicated the neat foil-wrapped packages before dropping his voice, ‘I had to call mum for advice on that and profiteroles for pudding. And no, I didn’t make them; Mum suggested I dig them out of the freezer.’

‘All sounds good. Although it has been said that I’m fairly low-maintenance. Feed me and I’m happy.’

Sam shook his head and came to stand in front of me, tucking a stray hair behind my ear. I’d shoved it up in a ponytail again because it was just too hot, and I had minimal make-up on, because a) it was the weekend and make-up is for work and b) in this heat it would just melt. And, stubbornly, I’d been determined not to look as if I was trying too hard. The whole Facebook thing had made me contrary. I wasn’t into playing games. Sam was going to have to take me as I was, and I was never going to be the svelte, sleek, well-groomed Victoria.

‘Describing someone as low-maintenance never sounds like a good thing to me. It’s as if you’re saying you’re not worth the effort.’ He paused, his blue eyes suddenly solemn, before delivering the killer line, ‘I happen to think you are.’

Thunderbolts and lightning, my whole system went into silly mode. Fireworks, butterflies, the works.

‘Oh shit, Sam.’ What did you go and say a thing like that for? I sighed and the idiot just laughed at me.

His cool hand stroked my bare shoulder, tracing the collar bone to just below my throat, which from anyone else I would have thought was a smooth-bastard move, but Sam looked a little bit dazed and a little bit surprised.

‘I know, it might seem all a bit quick,’ his finger stroked my throat, ‘but it’s not a line,’ he added quickly. ‘Last night… It’s crazy, but I missed you. At the wedding, I kept thinking of things I wanted to say to you. Things you’d laugh at. Wondering what we’d have danced to together if you’d been there.’

‘That’s easy. “Hi Ho Silver Lining” every time,’ I said lightly, trying to cover up the fact that I felt like I was on a see-saw, trying to pretend I was perfectly balanced in the middle when inside I felt like I was flailing about like a flaming windmill. This was real, soul-matey, breath-caught-in-the-throat stuff like in films and books and songs. It was scary and my mother would disown me. I still needed to talk to him about the Facebook thing. Being here with him now had squashed all my earlier doubts, but they were still there, just conveniently compacted for the time being.

‘Now why doesn’t that surprise me?’ Sam nudged me.

‘Although to be honest, I haven’t a clue who sings it. Did they play it?’

‘Of course. It’s in the wedding rules. Page ninety-five, paragraph fifteen.’

‘I think you’ll find it’s page ninety-six,’ I quipped and for no apparent reason other than utter silliness, we beamed at each other.

‘Wine? Or beer?’

‘I’d love a beer to start with. I walked here and it’s already in the twenties. They say this weather’s going to last all summer.’

‘I’m not complaining. It’s good for the cricket season. Fewer matches cancelled. And it’s much nicer standing in the outfield in the sunshine than on a cold grey day freezing your knackers off.’

‘I’ll take your word for it,’ I said. ‘I know nothing about cricket. Except that,’ I felt my cheeks dimple at the memory of the picture I’d seen of him, ‘it could be said some people look quite cute in the uniform.’

Oops, had I just given away that I’d been spying on him on Facebook?

‘That makes me sound like some kind of sporting boy scout. Whites,’ corrected Sam, poking my dimple and laughing before sobering. ‘Jess, I … cricket is quite a big thing to me. It’s, well, it’s important to me. And a pain in the arse, I’ve heard, if you’re the girlfriend of a cricketer.’

Except Victoria had apparently managed.

‘I play every Saturday during the summer and we often don’t finish until seven or eight. Although there’s usually a good crowd up at the club after a match.’

‘That’s OK. It’s only a pain in the arse if you’ve got nothing better to do than hang around waiting for a boyfriend to call,’ I replied cheerfully.

‘And that puts me in my