The Little Wedding Island. Jaimie Admans

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ is this “charmingly romantic” or just an old lady who hasn’t found the way to the tip yet with all her junk?’

      I can’t help snorting at him. ‘Aw, she’s got to put her own stamp on the place, bless her. It’s cute and kitschy.’

      ‘There are people on the mainland who’d pay a fortune for this stuff.’

      ‘Antiques dealers?’

      ‘Scrap disposal merchants.’

      It makes me laugh again and he backs out onto the landing and beckons me over with his finger. ‘Look at that,’ he says when I join him on the landing. He’s pointing to another door with a little metal sign on it that says ‘bridal suite’, and then his finger moves towards a staircase in the corner with a sign that says ‘honeymoon suite’.

      ‘I’d love to see what counts as a honeymoon suite in this place. Can you imagine? It’s probably got bright red carpet and pink walls and rose petals everywhere. There’s probably even a waterbed that will spring a leak halfway through the night and gradually drown your downstairs neighbour. That bloke at the harbour did say it was overpriced here. Do you think they charge extra to keep cockroaches to a minimum in the honeymoon suite?’

      ‘There are no cockroaches.’

      ‘Let’s meet in the morning and reassess that assumption.’

      I laugh nervously because even though it’s a joke, the idea of meeting him in the morning for any reason is not an unwelcome one. Even if it’s to discuss cockroaches or lack thereof.

      ‘Well, I suppose we’d better…’ he says, trailing off, and I tell myself I’m imagining that he sounds as disappointed as I am at the thought of not spending more time with him.

      ‘Hang on, I’m still wearing your coat.’ I shrug it off my shoulders. ‘Thank you so much for the loan of it. You must’ve been freezing coming up here in only a T-shirt.’ I refuse to let my eyes wander to the way that dark T-shirt clings around his bicep muscles.

      ‘No, not at all. Look at me, I’m all sweaty. I’m still too hot.’

      Oh, you can say that again.

      I bundle the coat in my arms and hand it back to him, trying to ignore the dash of heat as his arm brushes against mine.

      ‘Well, thank you for your babysitting-the-seasick services, ma’am,’ he says, tipping an imaginary hat in my direction.

      ‘My pleasure. Thank you for not throwing up on me.’

      ‘Ah, I’m a chivalrous gentleman. Clara said so. Chivalrous gentlemen don’t throw up on people.’

      I want to laugh but I try to keep it serious. ‘Are you going to be okay now?’

      ‘Yeah. There’s nothing I can do to get myself out of here any quicker, and that guy on the dock didn’t exactly fill me with hope, so I’m going to go and lie down and have a nap.’ He glances at me. ‘God, that’s really rock ’n’ roll, isn’t it? You must be looking at me and thinking, “Look at this fun and exuberant young guy and what an exciting thrill ride of a life he leads.”’

      It makes me laugh again. ‘Actually I was thinking a nap sounds perfect.’

      ‘Well, I’d ask you to join me, but that would be overstepping the mark. So…’ He leans around the doorframe and peeks into my room. ‘Look, our headboards are in the same place on the adjoining wall, so it’ll be almost like we’re napping together. Look at how young and vibrant we are with our afternoon naps. I don’t suppose you brought a bingo game and a knitting pattern, did you? We could really show some pensioners how to have a good time.’

      I’m trying to suppress laughter because all I’ve done today is laugh at him and it’s got to be bordering on abnormal by now. He must think I’ve got a massive crush on him, or that I’m really nervous, or that he’s the funniest guy in the world, or d) all of the above. All it does is make my face contort as I try to hold back the laughter, which is about as successful as trying to stifle a yawn.

      ‘So I’ll see you for dinner tonight?’ he says.

      ‘Yeah. How nice is that? That’s so sweet of her to do that.’

      ‘Yeah, right. You check it for rat poison, I’ll run through the bill to see how much she’s charged us for it.’

      ‘Oh, stop being horrible,’ I say, whacking the coat he’s still holding, ostensibly whacking him. ‘She was very sweet. She’s probably lonely if she hasn’t got any guests in.’

      ‘Her husband’s probably chopped up in the freezer ready to go in stews she serves the guests.’

      I can’t stop myself laughing again and I have to walk away before I make his ego any bigger.

      ‘Bonnie?’

      I turn back to look at him and he meets my eyes, sudden seriousness in his. ‘I’m really looking forward to it.’ Then he smirks. ‘Even if it’s stew with unidentified meat.’

      Oh my God, this guy. I close the door behind me and lean against it, trying to breathe without laughing at something he’s said. The butterflies in my stomach are more like 747s, and I cannot stop smiling. He’s kind, and sweet, and hilarious. He loves his mum, he’s chivalrous, I’m sure he’s single, and he seems to like me too.

      Could The Little Wedding Island somehow have found my Mr Right and thrown us together on the same boat with a twist of fate?

Chapter Four

      Dinner with a gorgeous man wasn’t part of my plan when I packed for this trip, and every item of clothing I own that even resembles sexy is hanging in my wardrobe at home. The little black dress I wear for dates, with the neckline that’s got just the right amount of plunge, is there too. Not that this is a date. Of course it’s not. It’s just a lonely woman inviting her two guests to eat with her.

      I’ve not been lucky in love and there’s no way I’m lucky enough for Rohan to be as perfect as he seems. He’s probably got at least one girlfriend, psychopathic tendencies, or an unhealthy fascination with spiders. All three would be just my luck.

      There’s a knock on my door as I pull my tightest black top over my head. Paired with skinny jeans, it’s the closest thing I can do to sexy with only a suitcase full of crumpled clothing.

      ‘Hi.’ Rohan’s leaning against the doorframe and his face breaks into a grin as I pull the door open. ‘May I escort you to dinner?’

      I go all blushy again in an instant. No matter how much I’ve spent the past couple of hours telling myself to remain cool and aloof, my resolve crumbles at the sight of him.

      He’s showered and changed, his dark blond hair is pushed back from his face and messily styled enough that it looks done but I still want to run my hands through it, and he’s dressed in jeans and a button-down navy shirt, which somehow makes his eyes look even bluer than they did earlier.

      ‘I’d like that,’ I say, not quite trusting my voice to remain steady.

      He СКАЧАТЬ