Nearly Almost Somebody (38 page)

‘I want to talk to you,’ Patrick said as he walked over, never shifting his gaze from her eyes. ‘No hot, no cold. I just want to talk.’

‘What if I don’t want to talk?’

A small smile tugged at his mouth. ‘Well, there’s always your hallway idea.’

He took hold of her hand, linking his fingers with hers, and her resolve withered.

They sat on either side of the taxi, not speaking, not touching. He’d let go of her hand when he helped her into the car and hadn’t made a move to take it back. The journey lasted less than five minutes, but the whole time Libby stared out of the window, not daring to look at him. What could she say if she did? Why? It was the only word rattling around in her head. Why, why, why? Why be so nice and then so cold?

By the time, the taxi pulled into the Green, she wished they could drive for another five minutes, for another hour. What was Patrick expecting? A shag? Why did she come out with the fucking in the hallway wisecrack? As if she would. The taxi, with its vanilla air freshener, stifled her and her head swam from the wine she’d drunk. The second the car stopped, she threw open the door, sucking in a massive lungful of air.

Go home.

‘Come on,’ Patrick said, nodding towards his house. ‘I’ve got a surprise to show you.’

‘I’m not sure–’ She glanced at Maggie’s cottage, needing the security of familiar surroundings.

‘It’s fine.’ He took her hand. ‘It’s a nice surprise.’

‘Why?’

He glanced around the empty Green. ‘Why is it a nice surprise?’

‘No, why did you get me to see Jane? You were waiting for me, weren’t you?’

‘Can we go inside?’ His fingers linked with hers again, his thumb brushing the back of her hand.

‘But you were, weren’t you?’

He nodded.

‘Why?’ She stared into those perfectly non-brown eyes. Did he really care? If he kissed her now, showed her that he cared, she could forget about London. She could settle here, she really could.

Kiss me.

He didn’t. Instead, he tugged the shawl. The cold winter air ripped at her skin, but she didn’t shiver. Instead, she held her breath as Patrick looked her over. He didn’t share Robbie’s blatant desire to bend her over the sofa. No, Patrick looked her over with awe, as if he’d never seen a girl in a dress before.

Finally, a huge smile took over his face. ‘I was there because you always smell of roses and sweet peas.’

She laughed. ‘I smell of what?’

‘Come on, princess, I’ve something to show you.’ Still clutching her hand, he led her to his house.

Her heart hammered in her chest, surely loud enough for him to hear, as he unlocked the door. Should she sleep with him or play hard to get? Okay, he hadn’t said he loved her, but could he be her Somebody?

Please let Robbie be right.

‘What’s the surprise?’ she asked.

‘A cute little redhead I’ve had my eye on.’

Excuse me?
Trusting him to be joking, she followed him down the corridor to a closed door. A strange whimpering came from the other side.

‘You keep a cute little redhead locked in the kitchen? Should I run away, screaming for my life?’

His smile grew as he opened the door and a bundle of brown and white fur scurried around his feet, its tail a wagging blur.

‘Ohmigod, you’ve got a puppy.’

‘This is Isla.’ He kissed the Springer Spaniel’s head before sending her off to say hello to Libby. ‘And she’s a very clever girl who hasn’t weed everywhere. Well done, Isles.’

Still smiling, Libby knelt on the kitchen floor showering the puppy with love while Patrick put the kettle on. Was Isla the dog Patrick so desperately wanted when he was eleven?

‘How old is she?’

‘Twelve weeks. She’s the runt no one wanted because she has odd ears.’

Libby examined them. One was only half the size of the other. ‘She’s adorable.’

‘Want to see her party trick? She’s better at spinning around than you.’ He held Isla’s tail near her mouth and they both laughed watching her spin in circles trying to catch it. ‘She’s why I was so late tonight. I didn’t want to leave her on her own for too long.’

‘And there’s me thinking you didn’t like mangy mongrels.’

‘Of course I do. Not that she’s mangy.’

Libby sat on the slate flagstone floor, laughing as Isla scampered over her legs and turned the hold-ups into a mass of snags and tiny ladders.

‘Thank you, Isla. Now I look like a St Trinian’s sixth former. It’s a great look but I was going for classy tonight.’ She kissed the beautiful puppy. ‘If it’s not the cats and dogs you hate, why don’t you like Monday afternoons?’

He pottered around, shedding his jacket, opening a fresh pack of coffee, spooning it into a cafetière without answering her question.

‘You’ll never be happy,’ she said, throwing his words back at him, ‘if you don’t tell people about yourself.’

He sucked in one cheek, before shaking his head in defeat. ‘I prefer dealing with the large animals. The farmers and horse owners around here are a pretty decent bunch, but at the Haverton surgery the people are… Well, the cats and dogs aren’t always the best cared for, mostly through ignorance, but I hate it.’

He picked up Isla, laughing as he avoided her doggy kisses, and Libby’s walls tumbled. Patrick had the tall, dark and handsome boxes firmly ticked, and although the speed he completed his A to Z appalled her, he wasn’t an immoral egotist, not really. He adored animals and he’d gone out of his way to rebuild her life. Surely, he was her Somebody.

The kettle boiled, its click bringing her to reality. No, she had to stop thinking about romantic outcomes; she had to stay focused. With the cafetière filled, Patrick grabbed two mugs and a carton of milk and sat on the floor beside her, their backs against the wall. Isla curled up on his knee.

‘Is this how you pull all the girls? Lure them in with a puppy then have coffee on the kitchen floor?’

‘This would be a first.’

They weren’t even flirting. They were beyond it.

‘Do you want to get that apology out of the way?’ she asked.

He stroked Isla before taking a deep breath. ‘Okay, sod it. I’m sorry for the hot and cold. I’m sorry for walking out of the pub and I’m sorry for not talking to you when you came to say thank you. My parents were round, I think to find out who you were, but that was bloody rude. And Halloween? Unbelievably sorry.’

‘I’ll forgive you.’ She struggled not to grin.

‘But I’m not sorry for kissing you, ever.’

‘Are you some schizo stalker?’

‘No.’ He laughed, cringing. ‘But I’ll admit it’s kind of weird behaviour.’

She nodded. ‘So why?’

‘Why did I kiss you?’ He rested his head against the wall, smiling towards the ceiling. ‘Because you looked too cute not to.’

She elbowed him. ‘You know what I mean.’

Denying her an answer, he pushed the plunger then poured the coffee into two mugs. He handed the first to her. ‘A real cup. Not that yours is as bad as Hannah’s.’

Libby swatted his arm. ‘If I have coffee now I’ll be awake half the night.’

He didn’t hide his smile. ‘That’s the plan.’

Libby blushed redder than Isla’s wonky ears. ‘You’re not getting away with it that easily.
Why
?’

‘After the Miss Haverton story in the paper, Mum and Dad sent me to Spain. I had to disappear for a couple of months and when I came back there was to be no more trouble. I’m on a year’s probation, six months left to go.’

‘Okay.’

‘There are ground rules. No more drinking on a school night–’

‘That explains the whisky being against the rules.’

‘No hard drugs, including random drugs tests–’

‘Oh my god, and there’s me, waltzing in, tempting you to come to party where there’s more coke being inhaled than oxygen.’

He laughed and gently nudged her. ‘Tempting me. You certainly did that.’

‘I’m glad you kicked me out.’ No wonder he’d been so cross. ‘Sorry, sorry, sorry.’

‘Don’t be.’

‘So I get why you didn’t want to come to the party, but why avoid me and not talk to me? And why say you can’t be a distraction?’ She didn’t like the deep breath he took, or the ever lengthening pause. ‘Patrick?’

‘Because I’ve been a fucking awful son for the last couple of years and I want to make it up to my mum and dad.’ He sipped his coffee. ‘The other rules are no more scandals and no more newspaper articles.’

Exactly what I’ve become.
Libby stared at her coffee.
I’m a newspaper scandal waiting to happen. I need to stand up and walk out.

‘You’re already thinking about leaving, aren’t you?’

She nodded, still unable to look at him.

‘Please don’t.’

‘There’s a thousand pound bounty on our heads.’

‘I know.’

She picked at one of the snags in her holdups, laddering it. Why had she partied with Jack? Why had she had an affair with Robbie? This was her fault. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

‘Look, Libs, I’ve tried to stay away from you, but I think I’ve proved that I can’t.’

‘What are you going to do?’ she asked.

He sipped his coffee. ‘I have no idea. Do we have to worry about it now?’

Hot Patrick. This was Hot Patrick. Would he be cold again tomorrow? Surely not, not after tonight. She picked at another snag, making it run all the way down her leg.

‘I’ve spent the last seven days vowing not to get dragged into you again,’ she said.

‘Really? Who were you wearing the dress for?’

She couldn’t help her blushes. ‘It’s just a dress.’

‘That’s not just a dress.’ He picked at one of the snags and laughed as it laddered all the way down to her ankle.

‘Why did you even turn up tonight?’

‘I knew you’d be there in a killer dress.’

‘You know you can’t lie to me.’

‘I knew you’d be there in a killer dress and a bad mood, I couldn’t resist that.’ He toyed with another snag, but slowly, making the contact last longer. ‘I wanted to prove I could behave in black tie, but I wouldn’t have stayed an hour if you hadn’t been there. Even if you were sulking and pretending you hated me.’

‘I don’t hate you.’

His hand rested on her knee. ‘I’ve missed you.’

He was prepared to risk his parents’ disapproval for her, to put his reasons to one side for her. He was her Somebody. She put her half-drunk coffee down, her heart thumping as she leaned up to kiss him. Her lips had barely touched his when Isla growled.

Patrick laughed softly before reprimanding Isla, sending her to her basket. ‘Think she’s jealous?’

Libby smiled at the puppy. ‘I was here first, sweetheart.’

Okay, if this was happening, it wasn’t happening on the kitchen floor. Libby stood up, not missing Patrick’s frown at the laddered holdups.

‘You don’t like the St Trinian’s look?’

He shook his head.

‘You prefer angelic don’t you?’

When he nodded, she put a foot on the dining chair next to him and peeled off one of the hold ups. He raised his eyebrows and as she switched legs, his smile grew. Slowly, she slid the second stocking down and he stood, running his hand up her leg.

‘Do you think it’s too early to tell you I’m in love with your perfect legs?’ he asked.

Libby laughed, unable to stop gazing at his fabulous lips – utterly kissable and just a few inches from hers. She tipped her head up. No growling puppy would stop her this time. The kiss in the garden, the night Baxter died, had been full of nerves on both sides but showed how quickly things would hot up. There were no nerves this time.

She wound her arms around his neck as he pulled her closer, one hand toying with her hair, just like he had over dinner. An involuntary shiver ran through her body as his hand brushed her bare shoulders.

‘We still should’ve done this on Halloween,’ she said.

Patrick tried to smile mid-kiss. ‘Are you ever going to let me forget that?’

She shook her head and he paused, pushing her fringe out of her eyes. With their bodies so close, she could feel his heart beating, or was it hers? His breathing was as erratic as her own and this time, when he kissed her, his tongue gently toyed with hers. Play hard to get? Not a chance.

Without taking his lips from hers, he guided her out of the kitchen and they staggered through to the living room. The light from the fire in the wood burner and the fairy lights on the Christmas tree created the perfect setting – as if he’d planned it. Maybe he had. Seeing little point in acting coy, Libby began unbuttoning his shirt, adoring the pleased groan he gave. She eased his shirt off his shoulders and used the pause in kissing to check him out. How many times had she imagined him like this, shirtless and horny as hell? The reality was a lot sexier than her dreams. The mountain biking clearly did one hell of a job keeping him fit. She ran a finger over his perfectly toned abs, gazing up at him with a cheeky smile.

‘Enjoying yourself?’ he asked, grinning.

Her nails raked over his chest and flicked a nipple, wiping the smile off his face. He flinched and laughed, but flipped her around so she faced the wall and he stood behind her.

‘Two can play at that game,’ he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.