Page 6 of Strawberry Moon

CHAPTER THREE

The corner of Harry’s mouth lifts as I chuckle and snort. Eventually, I sober and sit up. “Okay. I’m ready.”

He blinks. “What for?”

“Your freakout.” I gesture to him. “Give it to me. I am ready .”

For a second, the green in his eyes glows, and then he sighs and rubs his eyes. “The things you say.”

Concern floods me. “Are you alright?” I knee walk along the bed until I’m in front of him.

I grab his T-shirt and immediately get a little distracted by how the fabric is warm from his skin.

Then I remember what I’m doing and pull him forward.

“Do you want to tell them it was a joke and we’re just friends? ” I ask.

He scrutinises my face, and for once, I can’t read his expression. “Do you want to?”

My instinctive reaction is a resounding no. I like being able to stand close to him and put my hand in his and feel his arm come over my shoulder, but more important than those silly longings are Harry’s feelings.

“I’ll do whatever you want,” I say, smiling at him. I raise my hand daringly and stroke his cheek, feeling the sharpness of the bone and the soft, crushed-silk texture of his skin. “I just want you to be happy.”

His eyes are very green, and I fall into them. Then he nods as if he’s come to a decision. “We’ll leave it as it is.”

We watch each other for a few seconds longer, and then I smile at him. “I’ll unpack if you want to have a shower.”

“A shower?”

“A thing in the bathroom that gets you wet. Goodness, it’s a good job I work in your wordy bookshop.”

He rolls his eyes, looking more like himself. When he steps away, it feels as though he’s taking all the warmth in the room with him. “Okay, if you don’t mind.”

“Course not. You haven’t got anything incriminating in your bag, have you?”

“Just my dignity.”

I wink at him. “I’ll hang it nicely, so the creases drop out,” I say reassuringly, and he gives his loud laugh that never fails to make me smile. It’s lusty and full of so much humour that it makes you laugh yourself.

“Minx,” he offers and wanders into the bathroom. The door shuts behind him, and I hear the shower start. My mouth immediately goes as dry as the Sahara Desert at the thought that he’s naked right now. Water will be cascading over his tight, muscled body.

I saw him once after a run when he’d stripped off his top and tied it around his waist. His chest had been wide and hairy, with abs I wished I could lick.

I’d walked into a bench and had to pretend that a seagull had chased me.

It had been a believable story because the seagulls in Cornwall will trot up and take the food out of your mouth if you’re not careful.

Last week one had casually walked into the Co-op and got itself a sandwich off the shelf.

I realise that I’m just sitting on the bed staring at a closed door when I should be consulting my manual. I reach down and dig the book from my bag. Opening it at my bookmark, I quickly scan the text. I immediately want to roll my eyes.

Fiona is turning out to be a bit of a wuss.

She hangs around Jared’s office fluttering her eyelashes at him so much it’s a wonder he hasn’t been blown away in the breeze.

She also long-sufferingly accepts his endless girlfriends using her like a skivvy.

And she sighs. A lot . It’s a constant surprise that the woman has any air left in her body.

I left her sighing in Jared’s office while she took dictation.

Jared strikes a pose at the window while she admires his profile.

Now I do roll my eyes. Why aren’t there details about his bum?

I doubt Jared’s bum could hold a candle to Harry’s.

I read on. Fiona gets an eyelash stuck in her eye, and Jared has to stand very close to her as he removes it.

This process takes so long that I surmise her lashes are longer than a lasso rope.

I snort and then a thought occurs to me. It’s very wicked and is solely inspired by this book that was apparently written by Satan.

Do I have the nerve? I lick my lips as I weigh up the possible outcome.

The bathroom door opens, and Harry appears with steam billowing around him like a particularly brilliant porn film I watched once. And my morals fly away like the Wicked Witch of the West’s flying monkeys.

“All yours,” he says just as I mutter, “Ouch,” and hold my hand up to my eye.

“What’s the matter?” He strides immediately to my side and cups my face in his big hands. His grip is firm, his eyes gentle. “Have you hurt yourself?”

“I have an eyelash stuck,” I mutter.

I wonder if I’ll go to hell for this. I mentally shrug. I always did like warmer climates.

He tilts my head back, his fingers warm and damp on my face. His shower gel smells of coconut and innocence from the wiles of Mills and Boon books. I should have bathed in a vat of it.

“Let me see,” he says. He’s decisive in a way that never fails to rev my engine. He manages to be both gentle and commanding, as if my welfare is his most important priority. My cock stirs, and all I can see are his eyes. The green is dark now—almost like a forest at night.

“See what?” I whisper.

He frowns. “The eyelash?”

“Oh. Yes, the…erm…eyelash.” I lick my lips. He’s so close, his scent weaving around me and his body hard and warm. “I think it might have gone.”

“Are you sure?”

“About what?” I ask breathily.

“I need to look at your eye,” he whispers. He’s leaning closer, his breaths coming faster, and my eyes slide closed as I clutch his arms, his skin like hot silk beneath my fingers.

“Harry,” I say breathily.

The knock on the door is like a clap of thunder, and we jump apart. My heart is hammering, and I swallow hard.

Harry gazes at the door as though he’s never seen one before. His chest is rising and falling rapidly as he pushes his hand through his hair.

I groan under my breath at the bulge beneath the towel. He gazes at me with wide eyes.

“Harry?” His mum’s voice breaks the spell.

“Yes.” He clears his throat and tries again. “What is it, Ma?”

“There’s been a bit of an emergency, darling. Your dad and I have to go out, and I don’t know how long we’ll be.”

I scramble off the bed and follow him as he strides to the door.

He flings it open and puts out a hand to stop his mum faceplanting.

She’s taken off her painting overall and is now wearing a blue-and-white patterned evening dress that sweeps the floor.

It looks expensive, but I notice the paint splatters on it with a smile.

She’s made an effort to braid her hair, but strands are already making an escape.

“What emergency?” Harry demands.

She waves her hand. “Well, not really an emergency but we’ve got to sort it out. Your grandfather’s been arrested again.”

“What?” he says.

“ Again ?” I ask.

She smiles at me. “It happens once a month. Sometimes more if England aren’t doing well at the cricket.”

I can’t think how to respond, but Harry is obviously made of sterner stuff. “What’s he done now?”

“The community transport bus arrived to pick up his neighbour for a hospital appointment, but they couldn’t get up the neighbour’s drive because someone had parked across it.”

“Oh god,” Harry sighs with resignation.

She grimaces. “The police took a teeny bit of a dim view of him hitting the offending car with his walking stick. He smashed two windows before they could get it off him.”

I bite my lip hard to hold in the laugh waiting to come out. “Oh dear,” I say demurely.

Harry smiles crookedly at me. “You can dial the astonishment down, Clem. This doesn’t even count as bad behaviour to you.”

“True.”

He chuckles and his mum looks between us with a smile.

“Anyway, your dad and I have got to go and get him out of the pokey. I’ve made a lasagne.

It’s in the Aga and should be ready about fiveish.

Help yourselves, because I don’t know what time we’ll be back.

Last week when we visited him, he made your dad watch a recording of our win over the Windies.

” She gives me a smile laced with a lot of Harry’s charm.

“So sorry we’re leaving on your first night, Clem. ”

I shrug. “Family comes first.”

Her smile brightens and then with a wave she vanishes down the stairs. We hear the murmur of voices and then the front door slams and silence descends.

I turn to face Harry and shake my head.

“What?” he asks.

“ Now I know why you get on with my grandad so well.”

He smiles and takes a step towards me making my heart thud. However, before he reaches me, he stops. “Shower’s all yours,” he says evenly.

“What?”

His lip twitches. “The thing that gets you wet is all yours.”

“How come when you say it, it sounds dirtier?”

“It’s a knack.” He grins. “Go and get changed. I want to take you out.”

“You do?” I say in far too breathy a voice.

He drifts a little closer. “I thought I’d take you for dinner.”

That sounds very much like a date to my hopeful heart, but I know if I were to say that, he’d beat Roadrunner in a race to exit the bedroom.

“Would you like that?”

I realise he’s still waiting for my answer. “I am very okay with that idea,” I say firmly.

His eyes sparkle and he’s so handsome and golden in the late afternoon light that I can’t take my gaze off him. “Well then,” he says in a hoarse voice. “Go and get changed. I’ll deal with my mum’s dinner.”

We stare at each other for a long few seconds, and I notice we’ve drawn closer. “You’re not getting ready,” he says in a low, hoarse voice that makes my balls tingle.

“I’m not terribly obedient.”

He rolls his eyes, fighting a smile. “That’s not exactly news.”

“Maybe I’m waiting for a kiss,” I say daringly, and bite my lip. Was that too much?