and Damon here has kindly offered to help me move the piano in my apartment tomorrow, haven’t you, Damon?”
“I’m not sure….”
“How very kind of you,” said Blake, and I gritted my teeth. I could barely get a word in with these two, and it was difficult not to just grunt something rude and walk off. I wasn’t out on a boat and these people weren’t foulmouthed fishermen. This was a completely different world, full of urbanity and false pleasantries. There was a small part of me that truly hated it.
Now Blake winked. “I bet you’ll move her piano real good.”
Fucking prick.
Alicia tittered a laugh, and I was sure I must have looked unimpressed. Before I could say more, Jacob was rounding everybody up. The rest of the afternoon passed quickly, and I was happy not to have to talk to Blake again, aside from when we had dialogue together. Acting was easy for me, real-life conversations less so. And that was before you even added the fact that I had cause to dislike him. The guy had been with Rose. He’d put his hands on her. I just couldn’t seem to look at him and not want to punch him for it.
By the time I got home that evening, I felt like I could breathe again. I’d changed into some comfortable jeans and a loose jumper when my phone buzzed with a text.
Rose: Are you home yet? I can come over now if you’re not too tired…
Damon: I’m home. Come over. I’ll put the kettle on.
Rose: Okay. See you in a few :-)
The hazy drunken memory of my tongue on her neck entered my head, and I groaned. I should have kissed her then while I had the chance, but I’d been too preoccupied with her skin; it had felt so soft. The problem with me was that when alcohol was involved, all my inhibitions flew out the window, and they certainly had on Friday night.
Fuck, what had I even said to her?
She’d tasted like sunshine, and the sound of her gasping, the subtle intake of breath, made me harder than I’d ever been. My balls tightened just remembering it. The second I arrived home that night, I’d had to take a long, hot shower while relieving myself of my need.
Christ, I really had to think of something else right now or I’d be sporting a massive stiffy when I answered the door. Some of my things were lying around, so I did a quick clean-up. About ten minutes later there was a tentative knock, and I’d thankfully calmed down from wanting to shag her silly.
Opening the door, I found Rose in her light brown pea coat, her hair windswept and her cheeks reddened from the cold.
“Come in,” I said, and she stepped inside. “It’s biting out there.”
“Tell me about it,” she agreed, unwinding the purple knit scarf from around her neck. “The entire walk here I was fantasising about cosy open fires.”
I led her into the kitchen, suddenly struck by a vision of her sitting by the fire in my cottage back in Skye, wearing a shirt of mine and nothing else.
Okay. I really had to get a handle on this fantasy business.
Rose took a seat at the small table by the window while I went about making the tea. Every couple of seconds my eyes went to her. She sat back in the chair, emitted a tired breath, and began fiddling with her hair. Pulling it out of its knot, she ran her fingers through the strands, then fixed it back up again. She must have sensed me looking because her attention flicked to me, and I almost scalded myself with hot water as I quickly pretended I hadn’t been ogling.
“How did the afternoon rehearsals go?” she asked. “I hope Blake didn’t give you any trouble.”
I affected a bland expression. “Why would he?”
She grew flustered. “I don’t know. Never mind.”
Bringing the pot and two teacups over to the table, I set them down and took the seat across from her. Gran had always been a big tea fanatic, and the proper way to serve it had been bred into me since I was a teen. I’d already put out milk and sugar before Rose arrived.
“I did talk with him,” I admitted, and her eyes flicked quickly to mine.
“Oh?”
I scratched at my stubble. “He said he’d like us to be friends.”