Page 4 of The Forbidden Fling

David: Five isn’t excessive

Lukas: You said five cats were too many

David: The limit does not exist!!

Faye chuckled, scrolling through their conversation as they danced around Mean Girls references and came to the conclusion that having five cats wasn’t much different from having four.

Faye: I love you both so much.

And of course, the more cats, the merrier

She closed the app, taking in the four fluffy bundles curled together on her lock screen. Biscuit, Mochi, Angus, and Taco had helped her through the last few months, too, comforting her in that powerful way only animals could. She loved animals; animals were more trustworthy than people. That was one of the reasons she’d studied to become an ecologist. She wanted to protect them. To make a difference where it would matter.

Now, she couldn’t even do that. She’d had so much time off work that she’d had to move back in with her parents. Any sense of achievement had been overshadowed by her ruptured bowel.

That’s where the Sandy Springs course came in. No more feeling sorry for herself or locking herself away. She needed that enigma, needed to push herself. Not just for her sake, but for her dads. She’d put them through enough.

She blew out a breath, forcing herself to meet her gaze in the mirror. If she wanted that special quality, to be one of the enigma women, she needed to stay out of her comfort zone. She couldn’t let her dads down already.

After swapping her pyjamas for light blue jeans and giving her make-up a top-up, she grabbed her rucksack and headed down to the bar. She could show her face, do a few sudokus, and then head back upstairs. No biggie. If it was terrible and creepy, she was only a lift away from the comfort of her bed. She couldn’t stay up too late anyway, because Carla was picking her up in the morning. Her escape plan gave her enough courage to push open the bar door.

Like the rest of the hotel, the room had a cosy, snug feel. Pine-scented candles flickered on the tables, Portuguese music playing low through the speakers. Apart from three men chatting casually in the corner with Raul and another woman nursing a wine at the bar, it was quiet.

Faye approached, catching the eye of the impeccably dressed woman. Her dark chocolate eyes skimmed over Faye in a way that heated her cheeks. She was maybe late-thirties, with short blonde hair curled around her face, one side tucked behind her ear to reveal several hoop earrings and two sparkling studs. A fashionable burnt-orange pantsuit fitted her body perfectly.

Faye found it hard to look away. When she realised she’d been staring, she swallowed and uttered her best “Boa noite”, with a nod.

The woman’s lips lifted, and Faye followed the movement of her mouth. “Boa noite.” Her rich voice wrapped around Faye like liquid gold.

Raul approached with a big grin, scratching at his stubble. “What can I get for you?”

Faye forced her gaze on him and ordered a non-alcoholic beer that she didn’t really want. Ever since her surgery, carbonated drinks made her bloated and embarrassingly gassy, but she needed something to sip on to calm her nerves, and she didn’t know what else to get.

She took a seat on the worn—but surprisingly comfy—chair in the opposite corner to the men, almost spilling her beer. Wiping her clammy hands on her trousers, she forced her attention to the gold-framed paintings hanging on the walls. Anything to distract herself from the woman at the bar.

“Right. Sudoku,” she whispered to herself, clicking her pen and opening her book to the half-completed page she’d started on the plane. But the numbers danced on the paper, failing to hold her focus.

She tipped back the bottle, letting the ice-cold drink soothe her throat. But it couldn’t stop her heart from thumping in her chest.

In her peripheral vision, Faye swore that the dark gaze had turned in her direction. The heat in her cheeks spread lower, curling in her belly. The woman oozed confidence in the way she was combing her with her stare, as though she didn’t mind whether Faye noticed or not. Strong women were definitely a weakness of Faye’s, prompting the decade-old question: did she want to be them or be under them?

Her attention snapped back to the woman like an elastic band. The way her blonde hair curled and curved in short, textured waves around her face, as if it’d been effortlessly styled. Her carved cheekbones and smooth porcelain skin. Then that curved mouth that Faye wanted to trace with her fingertips.

Definitely the latter, then.

She bounced her leg, distracted, and dug her pen into the paper, creating a deep groove. It’d been a long time since her body had reacted like this. Dating with a chronic illness seemed impossible. Especially after her last attempt at dating ended with her being ghosted. The combination of long distance and intense Crohn’s flare-ups meant it was only a matter of time before her ex, Molly, had got fed up.

Now, dating with her stoma just seemed even more of an impossibility.

A sour feeling twisted through her gut. Oh… That’s why that woman is looking at me. Her hand drifted to her stomach. Maybe she hadn’t hidden her bag as well as she thought she had. Why else would an attractive woman be paying her attention?

Movement caused Faye to raise her head. The woman’s delicate ringed fingers were playing with the stem of her glass. Then she raised it for a sip and stood. She was leaving.

Guess that’s that, then.

Disappointment crept up Faye’s spine, but when those long, elegant legs strode past the exit, her chest tightened.

The woman was heading straight towards her.