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More fool her for thinking they were done discussing her love life. ‘Attraction is overrated,’ she said, taking another swig of wine.
He frowned. ‘How do you figure that?’
‘It blindsides a person. It makes them act on physical impulse, rather than logical thinking. Look at my dad… His behaviour is hardly rational, is it?’
‘No, but can you be truly happy with someone you’re not attracted to?’
She had no idea, but if you weren’t overly invested in a person, then you wouldn’t be overly devastated when it all went tits-up, would you?
Unsurprisingly, Matt wasn’t done. ‘If there’s no attraction then a relationship is doomed from the start. Trust me, I’ve been there. At least if there’s attraction, the relationship stands a chance of going the distance. Without it, you might as well not bother.’
She wanted to ask him more, turn the tables and delve deeper, but the waitress returned and ruined the moment. ‘The band have just come on stage in the barn, if you wanted to see them,’ she said, collecting their plates. ‘You were asking about them earlier.’
‘I was, thanks.’ He gave her a friendly smile. ‘Can you add the bill for the meal to my room?’
‘Of course.’ The waitress smiled and disappeared.
Matt stood up and offered Beth his hand. ‘Shall we head over? Unless you’d prefer to have dessert first?’
‘I’m too full for pudding,’ she said, standing without taking his hand. ‘You didn’t have to pay for dinner. I can afford my own meal.’
‘I’m sure you can,’ he said, gesturing for her to exit ahead of him, like the annoyingly perfect gentleman he was. ‘Are you looking forward to seeing the band?’
‘I suppose so.’ Her legs felt slightly wobbly beneath her, as they made their way from the restaurant and headed outside. The cool evening air hit her like a slap, fuelling the effect of alcohol coursing through her veins. She was officially tipsy.
The barn was already filled with patrons dancing to The Cure’s song, ‘Friday I’m in Love’. The space was filled with hay bales, lanterns and farming instruments. Three young guys stood on stage, wearing granddad shirts and trouser braces with turned-up jeans, looking very cool and playing their guitars enthusiastically.
Beth was about to head for a bench seat, when Matt caught her elbow and swung her onto the dance floor, effortlessly capturing her in his arms and instantly swaying to the music.
Her initial instinct was to object, especially as the buzz in her blood was magnifying the feel of his warm body pressed against hers. But she hesitated long enough to make escaping impossible. Besides, the strength of his grip holding her steady and moving her to the music was making her shoulders relax another notch.
Having fought against the urge to escape, she went with her second instinct, and gave into the moment and enjoyed being held. It had been a long time since she’d danced with a man. But there was no need to panic. It was just Matt. Kind, courteous, gentle-giant Matt. No need to worry about her judgement letting her down on this occasion. He was the human equivalent of a used car. Trustworthy, reliable and safe.
As her guard lowered further, though, another feeling started creeping in. Slowly at first, like a snake winding its way through the undergrowth, so stealth-like and unobtrusive that it took a while to register the prickling sensation that was heightening her senses. She suddenly became aware of his wide chest pressing against hers, the way his beard was tickling her cheek and the feel of his hand splayed across her back.
Her belly began to clench, and like a lightning bolt, she realised too late what it was.
Attraction.
Chapter Thirteen
Sunday, 26thMay
Matt took in a deep breath as he admired the views ahead, savouring the chill of fresh morning air hitting his lungs. Wispy clouds moved at speed through the mottled blue sky, and the distant trees moved in unison as the breeze toyed with them, bending their branches and scattering the nesting birds. Three large flags flapped in the wind, each one attached to a pole, advertising the unique combination of rural countryside and commercial tourist attraction. The Cornish flag, a Union Jack, and a skull and crossbones. The Jamaica Inn had certainly lucked out in terms of location. There wasn’t another building in sight, only the expanse of Bodmin Moor stretching ahead, green, wild and enticing.
Tempted as he was to head off exploring, he’d promised to meet Beth after breakfast and check out the hotel’s remaining attractions, including the farm shop and the museum. Neither venue topped his list of appealing activities, but it was on their itinerary, and he knew better than to upset Beth’s rigid scheduling.
As he left the sunshine behind and entered the stone outbuilding converted into a museum, he fully expected his good feeling to fade. It seemed criminal to waste such a sunny day being stuck inside. But then he remembered how it had felt last night, dancing with Beth, and the idea of spending another day with her kept his mood afloat. Especially when he entered the museum and saw her dressed in a black cape, eyepatch and huge tricorn hat.
Unaware of him standing there, she was threatening the rubber parrot attached to Blackbeard’s shoulder. A warm sensation filled his gut as he discreetly watched her. She leant against the makeshift bar of an olde-worlde tavern and pretended to load the barrels of a huge pistol, blowing make-believe smoke away from the tip, as if it had just been fired. This was a side of Beth he hadn’t seen before. Playful, daft, relaxed.
His mind drifted back to the previous night, when their eyes had locked on the dance floor and he’d felt something pass between them – until she’d run off in a fluster. The optimist in him wondered if she’d felt the connection, too, and simply panicked. The pessimist in him told him she was drunk and had probably run off to throw up.
‘Hand over your silver, you bilge-sucking scallywag,’ she said, aiming the pistol at the statue.
‘I hope that thing’s not loaded,’ Matt said, making Beth startle and nearly drop the pistol.
She turned and aimed the gun at him. ‘You’ll pay for your treachery, you son of a biscuit eater.’ Then she frowned and said, ‘Apparently, that’s an insult.’
