Page 65 of The Seaside Cocktail Campervan

She nodded, with a smile and a clear soulful whisper, ‘Yes.’

Jeez, this was it. He felt on a beautiful knife-edge as he moved above her gorgeous body, the tight pressure of resistance, and the glorious give. That warm internal embrace. The rhythmic push and pull. Her back now arching towards him, and he wanted so much to be part of her. To give, again and again. Deeper. Harder. Her soft moans driving them on. Then, that moment of teasingly-wonderful tension and exquisite release.

‘Lucy. Oh, Luce.’ He was lost to her. He wasn’t even sure if he’d said her name aloud or merely heard it echoing beautifully in his mind.

‘Aahhhh.’ Him.

‘Ooooooh.’ Her.

And they lay in each other’s arms, with a tenderly sated sleepiness taking them over. Curled up together, Lucy leaning against Jack’s chest, his arm angled gently around her, legs entwined. Wow.

Chapter 34

In bed the next morning, with Lucy’s head nestled sleepily against his bare chest, Jack lay thinking.

In the soft-golden rays of July morning light, he knew absolutely that he was falling for her … big time. That this was different, so different from all those fun and flirty but rather meaningless dates, the one-night stands, the no-strings flings. So far, he’d managed to avoid getting in too deep, never letting anyone loose with his heart; well, not since his high-school first love way back at the tender age of seventeen.

And then, with the sledgehammer loss of his brother, grief pummelled his emotions, smashing up his soul. After that, he’d tried to keep his distance emotionally, keep himself contained … never get too involved. But last night, this morning, he could feel himself unravelling. Lucy was taking him to places within himself that he’d never experienced before. Making love with her last night was soulful, beautiful … and it totally bloody scared him.

Jack shifted carefully so as not to wake her. He got up and made his way down to the galley kitchen, dressed in boxer shorts and his white dress shirt from the day before. He realised he was going to have to get dressed back into his tuxedo trousers shortly, ready to walk back down the lane to Ruby – hah, an unusual beachside morning combo.

He found his way around Lucy’s small kitchen, making coffee in the Tassimo machine. Daisy, after a few playful barks in his direction, was now snuffling around his feet, considering who the imposter was, and no doubt looking for her boss – and her breakfast, of course.

He could hear movement upstairs now, and then running water; perhaps Lucy was showering whilst he made coffee. It suddenly struck him as a strangely cosy, domestic set-up.

‘Sorry, Dais, don’t know where she keeps your grub. Or how much a mutt like you can eat. You’ll have to wait.’

The dog looked up at him with her dark, intense eyes. The pair of them actually seemed to have come to some kind of a truce after the night in the tent – well, needs must. And if he was going to get to know Lucy more, then he and the little dog would need to rub along okay. He suddenly stopped stirring, the teaspoon poised mid-air.

Was he … going to allow himself to get to know her more? Last night had certainly been amazing, but Jack felt that familiar tug of the past, the overwhelming weight of hurt and loss, all the little cracks in his heart suddenly heavy in his chest.

He shook it off, concentrating on stirring the coffee, one small motion at a time. Just breathe, Jack.

He set a second mug in place on the coffee machine, letting out a small sigh. He tiptoed once more around the downstairs area, curiosity about Lucy’s abode pulling him in the direction of the lounge. A couple of paperbacks were left out on the side: One Day and Pride and Prejudice. Romance novels. Was that what Lucy hoped for, he wondered, happy ever afters and a prince charming? Could he really step up to the mark? Be that kind of guy? Last night everything had seemed magical and perfect, and all he could wish for. But today, in the cold light of day, a million questions and fears were surfacing in his mind.

His stomach suddenly felt a little queasy, a gnawing anxiety in his gut. He took a steadying sip of his coffee. Why couldn’t it just be simple? Couldn’t he just go with the flow? He managed it in the rest of his life. But he was no romantic hero. And the last thing Jack wanted to do was hurt Lucy. If he couldn’t do this thing right, then maybe he shouldn’t do it at all.

And then suddenly there she was, walking into the kitchen, hair washed, with damp dark waves curling below her shoulders, dressed in a casual but pretty floral T-shirt and her trademark cropped jeans. She was like a ray of sunshine, breezing in with a ‘Morning, Daisy,’ a radiant smile for Jack, and the promise of croissants to warm in the oven, as she hunted for them in the freezer.

They were soon sat at the breakfast bar, with glasses of orange juice and crisp buttery croissants spread thickly with butter and local strawberry jam. Daisy now fed, but still loitering at their feet, eager for any stray crumbs. Lucy was chatting away as they sat there together, like a real couple. And Jack couldn’t help but feel a rising uneasiness.

‘So,’ asked Lucy, chirpily, ‘what’s on today, then? Do you want to do something, go somewhere … a walk maybe?’

So, she was hoping they’d spend the day together. Head off for a romantic walk, come back home, maybe cook lunch together … make love again …

‘Ah, I’m sorry Luce,’ he stuttered. ‘I promised Matt, that’s the guy I lodge with, that we’d go out cycling today. Gotta be getting back soon, I’m afraid.’ The white lie spilled from his lips before he even knew what he was saying. And as he markedly glanced at his wristwatch, he hated himself for it. ‘And I do only have a tuxedo with me to wear,’ he laughed nervously. He did in fact have shorts and a T-shirt back at the campervan. He’d intended rough camping last night, after all.

‘Oh … I see. Well, no worries. We can catch up again soon.’ Lucy looked down quickly as she bit into her croissant, trying to hide her disappointment.

‘Yeah, of course we can. It’s been great … last night …’ He couldn’t even begin to express his feelings for this girl. But he also couldn’t begin to express the rising sense of panic clouding in, a clenching in his chest.

‘Yeah, it was really lovely,’ she finished the sentence for him, as her soulful dark eyes held his. ‘Thanks again … for the cocktails on the beach, for everything.’

‘You’re very welcome.’ Jack gave a smile but his fears and vulnerabilities were crowding in. He found himself feeling prickly, and far too raw with emotion.

Lucy stood at the doorway to her cottage watching Jack walk away, off through the village on a sunny Tuesday morning, dressed in a dinner suit, his dark-blond hair ruffled, as if he was doing a very smart walk of shame. She couldn’t help but smile at that, but then … a thought struck her. Was he in fact feeling a sense of guilt or shame, trying to make his escape with that quick getaway? Or was she just feeling a bit vulnerable, paranoid?

Ugh, why did relationships do this to you, over and over? Get you all excited, make you feel blissfully happy for a few magical hours, and then screw your heart up like a paper ball?