A Winter's Wish. Alice Ross

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ to be heading.

      He knocked back the remains of his wine, and poured another glass before starting to clear away the detritus. He heard Bea stomping up the stairs, a couple of loud sniffs informing him she was crying. He could follow her up and apologise – although what he’d be apologising for, he had no idea. But he couldn’t face another showdown. It didn’t matter what he said lately, it was wrong. The whole thing was wearing him down, sapping his energy, making him miserable. And miserable was the one thing he never, in a million years, would’ve thought Bea would ever make him …

      Stan had met Bea in Thailand. She’d been on a gap year after university, exploring the Orient with three girlfriends. Stan had been there on a fortnight’s holiday with the lads. He’d bypassed uni, failing to see the point of three years messing about, only to emerge with the same meaningless bit of paper as thousands of other kids, plus a mountain of debt. He’d known exactly what he wanted to do – be an accountant – and so he’d gone for it. Following impressive A-level results, he’d accepted a position as an accounts clerk at a small, local company.

      He’d used the opportunity as a springboard, taking advantage of the excellent training package. He worked hard and studied hard, sailing through the mountain of exams with flying colours. In fact, so focused had he been on his career, that girls hadn’t really featured in his life. Oh, he went out with the lads at the weekend and had the occasional – very occasional – one-night stand. And he and the lads went on holiday every summer – a booze-ridden couple of weeks in Marbella, Magaluf or Marmaris, or anywhere else beginning with M with cheap booze and plenty of totty. But, other than that, he didn’t really have much to do with the opposite sex. A couple of his mates were going out with girls they’d paired up with at school, already, at the tender age of twenty-two, talking about mortgages and babies. Stan hadn’t been interested in any of that. Until he met Bea.

      It had been on the beach, under the heat of the midday Thai sun. Stan and one of his mates had been messing about with a Frisbee, which accidentally hurtled straight into Bea’s neck as she came out of the sea.

      ‘Ow,’ she yelled, holding the Frisbee in one hand and rubbing her neck with the other. ‘That bloody hurt.’

      Stan opened his mouth to apologise, but no words came out. He’d been completely bowled over by the vision before him – the lean, toned body with skin the colour of golden honey; the scraps of red bikini, concealing bits he couldn’t even bring himself to think about; the cascade of dripping wet raven hair; the flashing huge green eyes—

      ‘Watch what you’re doing,’ she huffed, flinging the Frisbee back at him. And off she’d strutted up the beach. Leaving a speechless Stan gawping after her.

      ‘Phwoar, mate. You missed a chance there,’ sniggered his mate. ‘She’s drop-dead gorgeous.’

      She was drop-dead gorgeous but Stan had the distinct feeling she was also way out of his league. ‘Seemed a bit of a snotty cow to me,’ he replied.

      ‘I’d be snotty as well if someone had almost sliced my head off,’ his mate went on. ‘You should go after her. Buy her a drink.’

      ‘Nah,’ said Stan. ‘Come on. Let’s go back to the others and crack open a couple of cans. I’m parched.’

      And that, he’d thought, had been the end of it. Until, two nights later, they were in the local nightclub.

      He first spotted her as she made her way to the bar. Wearing a tiny pair of white shorts and a pink camisole. With her jet-black hair in two long plaits, she’d looked about twelve. But, remembering the luscious body in the bikini, was obviously a fully grown woman. Stan pretended he hadn’t seen her, until his mate piped up, ‘Hey, isn’t that Frisbee girl over there? The one from the beach?’

      Stan cast a cursory look in the direction of the bar. ‘Dunno. I can’t remember what she looked like.’

      ‘Well, I can. That’s definitely her. And she’s clocked you. She’s looking right over here.’

      Stan’s heart skipped a beat as he turned his head once again and met her emerald-green gaze. But the brief moment was broken as a crowd of rowdy German guys barged to the bar.

      Stan did his best not to think about her after that. Larking about with the lads, he knocked back more than his fair share of lager and was on his way back from the loo when he spotted Frisbee girl hemmed in a corner, one of the rowdy Germans leering over her. As inebriated as he was, Stan could tell it was not a place she wanted to be.

      Without even thinking of the consequences, he weaved his way over to them.

      ‘You ready to go?’ he asked her, hoping he sounded more assertive than he felt.

      Her eyes grew large. ‘Er, yes. Yes, I am,’ she replied with a shaky smile.

      ‘She vill be leaving with me,’ the German informed him.

      ‘I don’t think so, mate,’ retorted Stan, wondering how he hadn’t noticed the guy was a good foot taller than him and twice as broad, before he’d had this sudden attack of gallantness. The German sucked in a breath and straightened his back, adding several more inches to his already impressive form.

      ‘Maybe we should ask her who she wants to leave with,’ Stan piped up, hoping his voice wasn’t shaking half as much as his legs.

      They both turned to the girl. Looking completely terrified, she grabbed hold of Stan’s hand.

      ‘I’d like to go now, please,’ she said.

      Stan gave her a reassuring wink and, before the German could grow even taller, they scuttled out of the nightclub.

      ‘Thanks,’ she said, once outside. ‘I couldn’t get rid of him.’

      Stan shrugged as he tried desperately not to notice the shape of her breasts beneath the thin fabric of her top. ‘It was the least I could do after almost slicing your head off the other day.’

      She laughed. ‘You’re right. That hurt. But you’ve redeemed yourself tonight.’

      Stan smiled, breathing in the light, flowery scent of her perfume. ‘I don’t think we should go back in,’ he said. ‘Do you want to go for a drink or something?’

      She screwed up her nose. ‘Not really. I’m a bit knackered. I’d rather go back to the hotel.’

      ‘I’ll walk you.’

      She smiled her thanks. ‘I’m Bea, by the way. Short for Beatrice.’

      ‘Stan,’ said Stan. ‘Short for Robert.’

      That feeble joke which, to his delight, she’d found highly amusing, combined with his heroic antics, evidently wiped the previously Frisbee-marked slate clean. They were inseparable for the remainder of Stan’s holiday. But, as much as he was having the time of his life, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that it was temporary. Just a holiday romance. And when he returned home, he wouldn’t hear another word from her.

      Yet, despite Bea continuing her travels for the next few months, and him being back behind his accountancy desk, via the wonders of modern technology they did maintain contact. And when they both ended up working in London less than a year later – Stan for an international accountancy company; Bea for an advertising agency – their relationship went from СКАЧАТЬ