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“When I was sixteen my PB was 10.75. The national record for under seventeens was 10.73 so I didn’t quite break it, but I was close. I’m faster now, but the New Zealand men’s record is 10.08 and I’m nowhere near that.”
“Who holds the New Zealand record?” she asks as we start walking back to the hotel.
“Eddie Osei-Nketia. His father held it before him for twenty-eight years. His name’s Augustine.”
She laughs and bends to fondle the spaniel’s ears. “Gus?”
“Yeah.”
“I like it.”
We cross the road and go back into the hotel. “Gus is dripping all over the floor,” she says as we go up in the elevator.
“Yeah, I’d better give the cleaner a tip when we go.”
She grins. “It must be nearly seven, right? We’re meeting Jamie and Emma at eight?”
“Yeah. I might rinse Gus off in the bath and then put the hair dryer on him.”
“I’ll help.”
We spend a fun fifteen minutes washing and drying Gus, by the end of which we’re both completely soaked, and then I give him a biscuit and let him collapse in his bed while we strip off and get in the shower together.
“Are you sore after last night?” I murmur as I wash her back with shower gel.
“Tender,” she admits. “Unsurprisingly considering the workout I got.”
I chuckle and turn her in my arms to face me. “I’m sorry about that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I’m not sorry for all the sex. But I am sorry if I hurt you.”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she whispers, kissing me. “You’re incredibly gentle considering you’re such a big guy.”
“You know how to say all the right things.”
She laughs as she smooths her hands across my chest and shoulders. “I meant in height and breadth, but yeah, that too.” She sighs then, slides her arms around me, and rests her cheek on my chest. I kiss the top of her wet curls, enjoying the feel of her wet skin against me.
“You okay?” I ask.
“Mm. Dad has his treatment tomorrow. I want to be there, but… I kinda don’t want this to end, you know?”
“Yeah.” I stroke her back, resting my lips on her hair.
“You’re busy too, aren’t you?” she asks. “You have to finish your project for Elizabeth.”
“Mm.”
“Your new microprocessor.”
I might not know her well, but I’ve been with her enough to pick up on the slight tease in her voice. She knows I was lying. I feel a twinge of guilt, wondering if she’ll mention it.
But she lifts her head, kisses me, and says, “I hope your week goes well and you finish your project in time. I’m sure you will.”
“I’m not going to have much free time,” I warn. “Any, in fact.”
“I know.” Her blue eyes are wide and open as I look from one to the other.
