Page 25 of One Golden Summer

“You’re the one who suggested I wouldn’t be able to stop myself from peeking.” Kirsty seemed tickled being able to toss that comment back at Saffron.

“I have a swimsuit on. It’s not like I’m naked.”

“Are you sure you want me to open my eyes?”

“Are you good at fumbling in the dark with another woman?” Saffron sucked in a breath, shocked by her words. These were the types of statements that could get her into hot water if leaked to the press.

Kirsty’s eyes flew open, and there was a mischievous twist to her lips. “I see how this is going to be.”

“At least, you can see now. For a moment, I thought we’d never leave the hut.” Saffron gazed at the daybed, realising that wouldn’t be a bad trade off. She glanced down at her feet. “How does this get on me?”

“One yank at a time.” Kirsty’s gaze roved over Saffron’s nearly six-foot frame. “This could take some time. Maybe we should send out for reinforcements. Or tea. A proper British woman can’t die without a final cup of tea.”

“You think you’re so funny. I’d like to see you get into motorbike leathers.” Come to think of it, Saffron would love to witness that first-hand.

“That’s an excellent point. You can put those on, but not this. Is this just a ruse to get me into the hut with you half naked?”

“I wish I could say that was the case.” Saffron tried to change her footing, but wobbled, and if it weren’t for Kirsty steadying Saffron, she would have crashed to the floor. “This was your idea. Help me.”

“Okay, okay. Let me get to work.” Kirsty leaned down, allowing Saffron to get a pleasing glimpse of cleavage.

Saffron placed a hand on top of Kirsty’s warm shoulder. “Who invented these things?”

“Probably the first brothel owner.” Kirsty yanked on one of the legs, nearly causing Saffron to topple over again.

“Did neoprene exist in biblical times?”

“I may remember the seventies, but not all the way back to ancient Egypt.”

After much tugging, grunting, and much more tugging, the wetsuit was on Saffron.

“Voilà!” Kirsty put her hand up for a high five.

Saffron slapped it, her fingers curling around the hand, before letting go. “Do you need help with yours?”

“Nah. I’m a pro.”

“Okay, then. I guess I’ll step outside.” The air whooshed out of her chest, like a balloon being speared by a knife.

On the porch, Saffron strained to hear Kirsty call out for help, but no such luck.

After a couple of minutes, Kirsty bounded out of the hut, tossing Saffron some water shoes. “Put these on while I get the kayak from the storage in the back.”

“Don’t you need help?”

“And risk getting sued if Hollywood’s It Girl breaks a leg? After the wetsuit incident, I think it’s best if I take care of the dangerous parts.” She winked. “Lock up the hut for me, please.” She tossed Saffron a gold-painted oyster shell that had been repurposed into a key ring.

Saffron took a seat to put on the shoes, watching Kirsty’s lithe body carry the kayak to the water’s edge. The woman had muscles on top of muscles. There was absolutely no way Kirsty was alive during the disco age. No way in hell. Not with a body like that. But why would she say it if it wasn’t true?

“You coming?” Kirsty waved.

Depends on your definition.

Saffron locked the door and made her way over the pebbled beach to start their adventure together.

Chapter 9

“This is lovely, spending a little time with you. We hardly see you anymore since you’ve been planning this divorce party.” Her mum walked beside Kirsty along the promenade, the warm July sunshine already buttering their backs. To their left, the sea caressed the pebble beach, not quite full of sun-worshippers yet at just gone 9am. However, the early-morning water sports crowd were out already, taking full advantage of the good weather.