He went to stand up, but she held up her hand.
‘Yes, I’m sorry. I was a bit thirsty that’s all.’
He pulled the throw back, his tracksuit bottoms still on and hanging low on his waist.
‘Tea?’ he offered, and she relaxed, nodding gratefully. ‘I can’t sleep either.’
***
She followed Cillian into the kitchen, him clicking on the kettle and her getting the cups out on auto pilot. They moved around each other in the space, tiptoeing and moving slowly. As she went to grab the milk, he reached for a spoon from the drawer, putting his hands on her hips as he gently navigated around her. She drew in a sharp, audible breath and felt herself tense. His hands were warm, but they stilled the second she gasped.
‘Sorry,’ he whispered dramatically, putting his hands up in the air. ‘I didn’t mean to …’
‘It’s fine.’ She waved him away, embarrassed. Reaching for the milk, she gave herself a second to pull her face into a less panicked expression. Duncan hadn’t touched her for such a long time, she’d quite forgotten how it felt. ‘You just surprised me.’
Cillian looked at her like he wanted to say something, but he closed his lips tight together.
‘Can I ask you something?’ he asked after a tense moment, his head turning to one side. ‘Without getting too personal?’
The kettle clicked off, and she focused on finishing her task. ‘Go ahead.’ She dared not look at him. Anything but the weight, please. Don’t talk about my weight.
He looked at her once more, his gaze dipping just for a second before he opened his mouth.
‘What did you really come here for?’
Chapter 11
On Judith’s farm a short distance away, Kenneth the cockerel opened his little birdy eyes and cleared his throat. Surveying all his sleeping hens, tucked away safe and sound in their straw-filled huts, he gave a little shake of his head to fluff out his feathers, and went to his usual place to do his alpha poultry duty and wake up the residents of Lizard Point. Standing up, tall and proud on the little blue gate, he steeled himself for the dawn call.
‘Cock-a doodle-doooo!’
April’s eyes sprang open, and she jerked up, regretting it when a dull ache reverberated around her head. A mixture of her injury and the wine she and Cillian had put away between them. She went to sit up, but found that she was pinned by something. A muscular arm around her middle. Looking around her, she saw that Cillian was fast asleep, his dark lashes fluttering as he leaned into her side.
‘Shit,’ she said, a little too loudly for the hour. Cillian’s eyes fluttered again, but she managed to get out from under him without waking him. She laid his head on one of the cushions, and covered him over with the throw. Looking at the clock, she knew Orla could wake at any minute. She needed to get away, and quick. Gathering her things from the bedroom, she made a quick exit out of the front door, still wearing Cillian’s clothes.
Closing it behind her, she sighed heavily. She’d enjoyed last night far too much, and this morning was a rude wake-up call. She didn’t have time for fantasies about the handyman, complicated ones at that. She needed him to help her with this place, not to file a sexual harassment charge against her and clean out what was left of her fast-dwindling bank account. What with all the repairs, the painting, the games room being kitted out, the touches to the interior of the chalets, she was about broke. She’d sunk just about every penny she’d ever had or inherited into the place, and it wasn’t officially open till the following week. She only had Martha’s income, and with Cillian’s wages and everything else, she was starting to panic.
Which was just how her mother must have felt, driving down here all those years ago. Without a plan and adrift. Free, but adrift just the same. April hadn’t even turned her phone on, relying on the office phone to make any business calls she needed. She’d been using the park’s email to correspond with customers and the like, so she was technically dead. Dead as far as social media went, anyway. Were you even a real person if you didn’t document your daily life for all to see? She used to love being social, but that was before Duncan, and before the baby elephant in the room grew too large for even her to ignore.
She walked down Cillian’s porch, turning left to go into her chalet and start the day. The early morning dew on the grass tickled her bare feet as she moved, and she wiggled her toes in among the blades. Looking across at Martha’s, she was startled to see her sitting on her porch, sketchbook in hand. Her glasses were halfway down the bridge of her nose, her keen eyes looking right at her.
‘Morning,’ she ventured, shuffling her bundle of clothing from one arm to the other. ‘You’re up early.’
‘Catches the worm, and all that,’ Martha replied briskly, tapping the sketchbook. ‘You?’
April’s eyes narrowed. How much had Martha seen? She tried to gauge it from her expression, but failed. Martha was a master of subterfuge, and April needed a bucket of coffee first to shake her brain into life. And a cold shower, because she couldn’t quite bring herself to block out how nice Cillian had felt wrapped around her on that couch. She regretted waking up early. Bloody cockerel.
‘Depends.’
Martha’s lip twitched. ‘On what?’
‘How much you saw.’
Martha smiled, pushing her glasses up her nose. ‘Come sit, please. I need to speak to you.’
April shot a glance back towards Cillian’s, before padding over barefoot. Martha pulled herself up, closing her sketchbook and motioning for her to follow her inside. April did as she was asked, wiping her bare feet as best she could.
In the lounge, on the coffee table, there was a large wooden box in the centre that hadn’t
