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‘What, as in wine vineyard?’
‘Yep.’
‘I didn’t know we had any of those in the UK.’
‘Me neither, but then I’m not exactly a wine connoisseur. Anyway, TripAdvisor said it was nice, so I booked us in. I thought you might enjoy the wine tasting, but it was already fully booked, I’m afraid. But the restaurant had availability, and we can wander around afterwards if we want to.’
‘It’s probably for the best. If I drink at lunchtime, I’m likely to go to sleep.’
‘We don’t want that. I’ve saved the best till last.’
‘Oh, yes? What’s that?’
‘Wait and see.’
Lunch proves to be quite the eye-opener. Not the food, although that is very nice, but I learn something new about Noah. I know that he makes a mean sandwich, but it’s soon clear to me that he knows quite a lot more than that, as he navigates the slightly intimidating menu confidently, choosing dishes that I totally wouldn’t have predicted.
‘This is a side to you I haven’t seen before,’ I remark.
‘I do love decent grub,’ he admits. ‘I sometimes think that, if I hadn’t gone into the building trade, I’d have trained as a chef.’
‘Do you regret it?’
‘No. I admire what chefs do, but I wouldn’t swap working environments. I get fresh air, and they get a sweat pit. I reckon I chose the right path.’ He spreads a little smoked mackerel mousse on a piece of sourdough, takes a bite and groans with pleasure.
‘God, this is amazing,’ he enthuses. ‘Try some.’ He carefully breaks another piece of sourdough, spreads it with mousse and holds it out to me. I open my mouth to allow him to pop it in and he’s right. It does taste incredible, but I’m momentarily distracted by the intimacy of the moment where his fingers lightly brushed my lips and I had to concentrate very hard to prevent myself from kissing them.
Our final stop of the day turns out to be a beautiful, sandy beach. It’s quite crowded on this warm, summer day, and Noah has to try a few places before he finds a parking space, but it’s the perfect end to a brilliant day. I buy us both ice creams, and we take off our shoes and paddle in the icy sea. As the sun starts to dip, we head back to Ashford, where we go to a different pub from the usual one and sit contentedly in the garden, sipping ice-cold beers.
‘This has been the best day,’ I tell him enthusiastically when he drops me back at the caravan park. ‘Thank you so much.’ Without thinking, I rise onto my tiptoes, wrap my arms around him and give him a kiss.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I stammer when I realise what I’ve done.
‘It’s fine,’ he smiles. ‘That was the perfect end to the perfect day.’
‘Oh, was it?’ I’m both embarrassed and kind of wanting to do it again. My lips are tingling gently, and I’m not sure it’s all to do with his stubble.
‘Yeah. A bit short, if I’m being completely honest, but otherwise good.’
‘You poor thing.’ I reach up and press my lips to his again, letting them linger this time.
When I pull back, it’s obvious that something vital has shifted. There’s an intensity in his eyes that I’ve never seen before, and I’m both excited and scared of it. Our eyes are locked on to each other, my heart starts thumping in my chest, and I can sense the endorphins rushing into my system. Agonisingly slowly, he moves forwards until our lips meet once more.
I’m fizzing. This is nothing like kissing Lee. This is raw and exciting, and my body takes on a life of its own, pressing harder against him as my hands dig into his back. As his arms move to encircle me in return, our mouths open and our tongues find each other, everything feels right.
This is wrong, my inner voice tells me.This is everything you said you would never do again.
That niggle of doubt is enough to bring me to my senses with a thump.
‘I’m sorry. I can’t do this,’ I tell him as I break off the kiss and slip out of his arms.
Without another word, I turn on my heel and flee into the safety of the caravan, slamming the door behind me.
24
Noah is avoiding me. He’s trying to pretend that everything is normal, but it’s obvious he can’t bear to be in the same place as me. As soon as the morning meetings finish, he’s always got something urgent he needs to go and deal with, and he’s stopped calling in to the office unless he absolutely has to. If I go and find him on site, he’ll invent a reason to deflect me onto someone else. It’s Friday morning and I’m dreading the weekend ahead; there’s no way I can go round to his house until we’ve cleared the air, and we can’t do that while he’s keeping as far away from me as possible. But the truth is that I miss him terribly, and it’s going to be a very long and boring weekend on my own.
‘This isexactlywhy office romances are a bad idea,’ I’d said to Ava earlier in the week.
