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“Why?” I demand. “It’s so cold!”
“It’s easier with a wet suit and some special socks or boots. I got into it years ago.”
“Well, we’re all jumping in the hot tub afterwards,” Josie adds. “Which, by the way,” she says looking at me, “we need to find.”
We’ve not explored the grounds yet, and the rear garden isn’t big but there should be a barbecue and the shared use of a hot tub.
“Good idea. I’m not sold on wild swimming either, but I’m up for the hot tub, Ava.”
Ben smiles softly at me, and I know he’s probably just being nice—I did say I wasn’t keen on the lake swim idea—but irrationally, I don’t like him using my name.
“I hope there’s room for everyone,” I divert. “How big is it anyway?”
Sam tells us eight—which I already knew—before adding, “It’s an interesting way of getting to know your neighbours.”
Tabi catches my eye, grinning. I can just imagine what she thinks should be going on in a hot tub.
“But we would like to repay the favour more formally,” Sam continues, “so how about we cook for you all tomorrow?”
“I don’t think shop-bought pizza qualifies as cooking,” Max rebuffs.
Tabi guzzles more champagne, laughing loudly at Max’s joke. Josie and Laurence launch into a discussion about their favourite pizza toppings, restaurants and takeaways, while Max drops his head to whisper, “Thanks.”
“For dinner?”
“For lots of things.”
Perplexed, I struggle to know what to say. Or do. “So . . . is it the London work or the Cambridge work that you’re woefully unproductive at?”
Little by little, his smile grows until it occupies his entire face. “Sadly, both.”
“Oh, that’s too bad.”
“Yeah.”
“Sounds like you might need to polish your CV.”
“You’re meant to be encouraging a man who’s on his soon-to-be unemployed knees.”
“In which case, let me take a look at your CV; I’ll help you smarten it up for when you get fired.”
He searches my eyes as we share the lighter moment. “Because I like you, running girl, I’m gonna let that slide.”
Something liquid hot spikes through my veins when he uses that special name for me. And his voice was intimate rather than overly done. It was a perfect, delicious frisson of heat and friendship. And if I’m not mistaken, and I’m pretty sure my feminine intuition is not completely broken, he made a very gentle pass at me. I’m on the cusp of responding in some way, but instead I fidget, rearranging the cutlery on my plate, fiddling with the stem of the wine glass and letting my hair fall in my face.
And then the shame of the question I asked outside revisits, and I know I need to make amends. They’ve been nothing but well-behaved, courteous and pretty sober. After a couple of beers or glasses of bubbly, they’ve basically stuck to water. “I’m sorry for my question about your friends, earlier. That was uncalled for.”
“Please, don’t apologise. I understand.”
“I feel terrible.”
“It’s fine.” For all of two heart-stopping seconds, he places a hand on my forearm, squeezing gently. At first, I stiffen, then I tell myself to relax, the warm press of his palm no longer freaking me out. “You can make it up to me by critiquing my resumé.”
“Okay,” I say with a laugh, pretending he’s being serious and that this isn’t going to be some long-running joke between us.
Josie sends me an encouraging smile, and I try and feel good about what I’ve accomplished tonight. It took a while to settle into the evening, but I can be normal. I can joke. I’m capable of meeting handsome, charismatic guys and not shiver with fear.
“I think we should have pudding,” I tell Josie, unsure if she heard me. She was using her thumb to adjust the non-existent diamond ring on her finger. It’s a little loose on cold days and she makes sure the stone is pointing the correct way. But she took my suggestion and has put it away, for tonight at least, maybe even the entire weekend.
