AllFreeNovel
Share Us
CHAPTER 18
The first drop of rain fell as Oliver pulled out his tent poles at Fowlers Bay.
By the time he’d got his tent up, there was a steady light veil of rain falling from a gunmetal sky and the sweat was pouring off his brow thanks to a combination of heat and humidity.
By the time they were forced, elbows bumping and hips squeezed next to each other, to eat a simple pasta supper inside the Shaggin’ Wagon, the rain was sheeting down outside, along with the rumble of thunder and flashes of lightning.
“What did you say about February being hot and dry?” Felicity asked in a tone of pure innocence.
Oliver smiled ruefully. “There are, of course, the occasional exceptions to the rule. It won’t last though.”
“That’s what you said earlier about the clouds.” She turned and looked out the window.
“I can’t see any blue sky out there.”
As it grew dark, they played cards. It reminded him of camping with Aaron as a kid. He’d always let Aaron win, because he’d be be a right little shit if he didn’t.
Afterwards, he sat in the front seat with his computer wedged on his lap, trying to write a few lines of his manuscript. Felicity lay on the narrow mattress, her head buried in her book and her breasts in her tiny sundress way too distracting.
Eventually there was a lull in the pattering on the roof. The light had faded and the smell of rain and salty sea air struck him as he opened the door and bade her goodnight.
“Goodnight, Oliver.” She turned the page of her book, gave him a vague wave. “Stay dry.”
He stifled a sense of disappointment. No way did they need a replay of two nights ago.
He was weary, he realised as he undressed in his tent. He’d done most of the driving today, and trying to keep his reactions towards Felicity in check had led to a couple of nights of bad sleep. So, no. He wasn’t going to think about crazily bright blue eyes or tumbling red hair on golden freckled shoulders. Or breasts…
He awoke with a start sometime later, to a definite feeling of dampness. Modify that. Wetness.Sloshingwetness.
Water was leaking through the ground cover, which he guessed he hadn’t secured properly, and now his sleeping bag was soaked. Next thing there was a crash of thunder, a streak of lightning and the wind whipped up, as if from nowhere.
In seconds the tent was like a handkerchief blowing in the wind, the only thing pinning it down being him. Desperately, Oliver struggled to the entrance, unzipped it and started to push in the pegs deeper as the rain ran in torrents over his bare shoulders, strapped his hair to his head and his T-shirt to his back.
He managed to get a peg in, only to have it rip out again, and suddenly the tent was dancing happily off into the stormy night, scraping along the gravel of the camp site, heading for the beach.
Jesus Christ almighty, an angry god had it in for him.
A light went on in the Shaggin’ Wagon. Felicity, wrapped in a sarong, came out on the step, the wind whipping her hair around her face.
“Get back inside,” he shouted. “You’ll get soaked.”
“Where’s your tent?” she shouted back.
“Over there.” He pointed. “I’m going to retrieve it.”
“I’ll help you.”
They wrestled the tent back, only to find most of the tent pegs were missing.
Felicity flapped her hands. “Give up, Oliver.”
“That’s fine for you to say.”
“You need to come into the van and dry off.”
They stood and stared at each other. Her sarong clung to every curve and her nipples were two hard peaks.
Unbelievable.
