He wasn’t smiling. ‘I know you think that’s funny, but it really isn’t. You shouldn’t be going back to anyone’s place if they’re a stranger.’
‘Hello?’ Exasperated, she spread her hands. ‘I’m not going to be doing that, because I’m not an idiot. He’s new to the area, just moved down from Manchester, and we’re meeting on the little bridge next to the Kingsbridge Inn. Then we’re going to go for a walk along the riverside in broad daylight, have a nice chat and get to know each other. You never know, we might even go completely wild and pop into the pub for a drink. Then, when it’s time for me to come home, I’ll give you a call and ask you to pick me up.’
‘OK,’ said Will. ‘Don’t let him get you drunk.’
She rolled her eyes. Honestly. ‘I won’t get drunk.’
‘Have you emailed his details to anyone?’
‘They’re all on the app.’
‘D’you want to email them to me as well?’
‘No, Will. And this is supposed to be a happy time for me, OK? I’m actually hoping he’s going to turn out to be a nice guy and not a serial killer or a homicidal maniac.’
‘Sorry.’ He raised a hand from the steering wheel. ‘I’m sorry, I just . . .’
‘You don’t want to lose a good customer, I know.’ Layla smiled to show he was forgiven. ‘You’ve been reading too many psychological thrillers, that’s what’s got you thinking. I’ll be fine.’
As he dropped her off in Bourton on the Water, close to the Kingsbridge Inn, Will said conversationally, ‘Given any more thought to those driving lessons?’
‘No.’ Honestly, was he trying to put himself out of business?
‘Well, the offer still stands if you change your mind.’
That was never going to happen. ‘OK.’
‘Text me when you’re ready to head back.’
‘I will.’ She climbed out of the passenger seat.
‘Have a good time.’
‘Thanks.’
She waited until he’d driven off before taking a deep breath and preparing to turn to look at the low stone bridge across the River Windrush. She’d never been flat-out stood up before, but it was always a possibility; it could be about to happen now. If her date wasn’t here, she’d just have to walk up and down for a bit and pretend to be admiring the scenery before slipping away and sending that text to Will. Oh God, the humiliation . . .
But when she turned, he was there. Better still, he was watching her and smiling broadly, as if genuinely delighted by what he saw.
Best of all, he looked every bit as good as he did in his dating profile. Like, seriously good. Bonus!
Layla stepped off the pavement and narrowly avoided being mown down by a familiar car. Will, having turned around and come back along the high street, braked sharply and gave a pay-attention shake of his head as he drove past her.
Then he really had gone, and it was safe to cross the road.
‘Hello,’ said Harry Gray.
The butterflies were going crazy in her chest. ‘Hello.’
‘It’s you.’ He had an irresistibly infectious smile.
‘I know.’
‘No, I mean it’s you.’ He gestured towards her hair, her outfit, her shoes. ‘I was in Elliscombe last week and I saw you from a distance, walking down the street. I just felt . . . you know, it was one of those moments that catches you by surprise. I had this incredible urge to chase after you and find out who you were, but then you turned the corner and I lost my nerve, because what if you thought I was a complete lunatic and couldn’t get away fast enough? So I let you get away and spent the rest of the day kicking myself.’
‘Oh wow.’ Layla was speechless. It was astonishing enough discovering she was capable of evoking such a reaction from a stranger in the street, let alone a stranger of this calibre looks wise.
‘Then this morning I took a quick look at Fait and nearly dropped my phone when I saw you on there. Well, I was almost sure it was you; I couldn’t be a hundred per cent certain.’
‘And it was me?’
He nodded. ‘It was. If this isn’t fate, I don’t know what is.’
‘I know the person who invented the Fait app!’ Did that make her sound like a terrible name-dropper? Oh, but it was so relevant! ‘His name’s Shay and he came to my eighteenth birthday trip to Venice . . . He’s staying in Elliscombe right now!’
Harry grinned. ‘Well whoever he is, I owe him a drink.’
They walked side by side along the water’s edge, which felt easier than having to sit opposite each other in a pub and make potentially staccato face-to-face conversation. This way there wasn’t a hint of awkwardness and it was all Layla could do to stop herself casting covert sideways glances at him as they chatted away. Harry was a personal trainer and it showed; he was wearing jeans and a tight-fitting white T-shirt that clung to his biceps and clearly delineated abs. He had tanned, lightly freckled skin and green eyes, and his dark hair was cut really short, enhancing neat ears and the excellent shape of his skull. His cologne was fresh with a hint of pine, but in a good way rather than a lavatory-freshener one. His mum was from Yorkshire, his father Scottish. He’d been living in Manchester for the last six years.
‘And I talk too much,’ he concluded with a wry grin. ‘Sorry about that, it’s only because I’m so nervous. Anyway, enough about me. Tell me about you. What do you do for a living?’
Layla hesitated. It hadn’t taken her long to learn that if you wanted to get positive responses on dating apps, it helped if you didn’t announce from the word go that you were an accountant. Bracing herself slightly, she said, ‘I’m an accountant.’
‘What, seriously?’ He did a jokey double-take. ‘You don’t look like one. And I suppose you’re sick to the back teeth of hearing people say that to you.’
‘It happens quite often.’
‘Amazing. God, I love it, though. I love surprises. And I love what you’re wearing. Imagine looking the way you do and being able to fill in tax forms.’
Phew. Layla felt the last remnants of anxiety receding. He wasn’t put off by her profession and everything was going to be perfect.
‘Tell me more,’ he said. ‘Any other surprises I should know about?’
Now he was putting her on the spot. ‘Umm . . . I love Beyoncé?’
‘That’s not a surprise. Everyone loves Beyoncé.’
‘Let me save the rest of my surprises for now.’ They’d walked the length of the village on one side of the river, then back again on the other, and Layla’s high-heeled butterfly shoes were turning her toes numb. ‘Shall we stop and get a drink?’
‘Definitely. I want to know everything about you. Are you into fitness?’
May as well get it over with. She shook her head. ‘Not really, no.’ Was this going to put him off?
But Harry was smiling, showing no sign of being horrified and wanting to run a mile or maybe ten. ‘No worries, it makes a nice change. There’s more to life than body-sculpting and sit-ups.’
Phew. Thank goodness for that.
Two hours later, sounding bereft, he said, ‘Are you sure you have to go?’