Trudging back to bed, I grab for the t-shirt and slip it over my head. I freeze, wondering if he saw it. But I will refuse to let him have it back; it’s the best thing I’ve ever slept in. I fall into bed with a satisfying oomph.
Charlie
I’ve spent most of the early morning watching as the removal guys tear down the gazebo and packed away all the wedding décor. When they leave, I head back inside. I’ve only had one cup of coffee this morning, and my stomach grumbles in protest. When I hit the kitchen, I salivate from the scent of bacon in the air.
Sophie has her back to me as she hovers over a sizzling frying pan. Walking over, I peer over her shoulder and inhale. I’m not sure if I’m smelling her or the food, but they’re both equally delicious.
“Good morning,” I say into her ear.
She startles and leans away, elbowing me in the side. I let out a laugh.
“Any chance I can have a taste?” I’m a little surprised I let the words slip out.
But then she replies, “Maybe… If you’re lucky.”
Her words do something to my insides, and for a moment I’m paralysed, a response on the tip of my tongue. But then she turns to me, and it’s like a cold hose has been sprayed over my libido. The lighting highlights the bruise on her face. And…there goes my hand on a journey all on its own, reaching out to touch her.
Her fingers wrap around my wrist, stopping my descent. “It’s fine,” she croaks. “And thank you for putting me to bed.”
Letting go, she turns back to the stove. My hand goes to the small of her back. I lean in, about to whisper into her ear, when footsteps and the clicking of a walking stick stop me.
Turning my head just as Ana and Evie come into the kitchen, I smile.
“Good morning, ladies,” I say, heading over to greet them with a kiss on each cheek. They sit at the kitchen table, and I offer to make them some tea.
“Looks like you received a better greeting than I did,” Soph says with a playful grin. She stands facing us, a spatula in one hand and a tea towel in the other.
Without a word, I stalk back over to her, and she doesn’t move as I step in front of her. I lean down. An audible gasp escapes her slightly parted lips, and I kiss her on the cheek, lingering longer than I should before moving to whisper in her ear. “I wouldn’t want my favourite girl to feel left out.” My lips graze the silky skin of her ear lobe, and it takes everything in me to step away. Her cheeks glow red as she swats me with the tea towel. I turn back to the kettle, trying to hide my arousal, keeping my body in front of the counter.
Dead kittens.
I regard the women in front of me when we’re all seated and can’t fight my smile. One of the things I miss the most from growing up is sitting down to eat breakfast as a family. A wave of nostalgia rolls over me. Seeing Ana and Evie—how they’re ageing has come out of nowhere—it’s all-encompassing…both physically and psychologically. Time waits for no one.
It’s moments like this I try not to take for granted, but then the guilt creeps in. As much as my dad hasn’t been the man I knew him to be, I’m an adult now, and I know I could be a better son. We aren’t close like we once were, and in fleeting moments like this, I think maybe it’s something I should consider remedying.
But for now, I soak up the company and enjoy my home-made breakfast. Sophie knows the way to my heart, even if she doesn’t know it yet and it’s not just through my stomach. The thought causes me to swallow hard.
I say goodbye to Ana and Evie as they get up to leave. They’re off to the local community hall for bingo.
“So, are you off to play bingo, too?” I ask Sophie once we’re alone.
She swats me with the tea towel, again. “So, what if I was?” she challenges.
I hold my hands up. “Hey, I’m not judging. You like what you like.”
“True,” she says, and scans the length of my body, her eyes lingering for a few seconds before she nods then tries to squeeze past me. I make no attempt to move out of her way when her hip skims mine.
Reaching around me, she brushes her shoulder across my chest. My fingers tingle, wanting to take hold of her waist. I lean closer when the heavy clank of cutlery stalls me. She pulls back, holding the plates. Her cheeks begin to colour, and I take them from her, my fingers rubbing over the back of her hand as I do.
What I really want to do is rub my thumb along the seam of her plump lips before dipping my head and stealing a kiss. Instead, I’m the one brushing past her as I take the dirty plates to the sink.
She’s behind me now, her hands lightly touch my hips, but heat pierces my skin.
“Move you. Go on, get out of here. Haven’t you got work to get to?” She asks.
Her voice holds a rough note, a tinge of nerves. And as much as I would love to stick around, she’s right. I do still have a business to run.
“I do but I can help clear up this mess,” I say.
She shakes her head. “Stop it, it doesn’t take two of us to rinse some plates and fill a dishwasher.”
I take that as a hint. “Okay, well thank you for breakfast,” I say and lean in to kiss her on the cheek. Again, any excuse to get close to her.
“You’re welcome,” she says, her cheeks warm.
I put distance between us, temptation on the tip of my tongue.
“I’ll see you tonight?”
“Of course,” she replies.
I smile and turn, forcing myself to leave her to it. Shit, I am well and truly screwed.
I still can’t believe this place is mine. Admittedly, when I first made the decision to invest in a bar after graduation, it was to piss my dad off. But truth is, I love it. I’ve been my own boss for a couple of years now and I’m finally finding my feet.
It took a while to get the aesthetics as I imagined. I had to work hard with a contractor to have it just how I wanted. With a series of horseshoe style booths on one side and the wall opposite lined with high stools and a solid oak finish bar. Leaving more than enough room in the middle for smaller round tables and soft cushioned chairs. So, it’s both open or intimate depending on where you’re seated.
The walls are lined with local artists work of famous London landmarks. Ambient lighting which can be adjusted to the time of day. And the bar overlooks the entire space and is fitted with ceiling-high mirrors.
I walk through the bar and find Olly, my right-hand man, with his back to me drying some glasses. He glances up and eyes me in the mirror, nodding with a smile on his face.
“Alright mate, was everything okay yesterday?” I ask, scanning the fridges behind him to see what needs replenishing.
“Yep, no dramas. How was the wedding?”
I smile. “It was eventful,” I say as I come around to start stacking the glasses on their rack.
“I bet Felicity was as radiant as ever, and what about Sophie?” he asks. His eyes holding a gleam of eagerness as he awaits my reply.
“Felicity was the blushing bride and Sophie…” She was fucking gorgeous. “Was fine until a dimwit ex of hers showed up to the reception, but I took care of it,” I say, grinding my jaw.
He points the dishcloth towards my hands. “I did wonder if you’d gone a round or two with a punching bag without me.”