Page 61 of Cover Story
Connor said this in an amused tone but they were swapping real information. After this jarring experience, a small bloodletting was occurring. It was underscored by yet more gales of rain.
‘I’m only going by what you said …’
‘People are actions and words, aren’t they.’
‘Look, I thought you had a bit of an attitude at the start, that was all. I didn’t think really badly of you,’ Bel said.
‘Hah! And you didn’t have an attitude?’
‘You can’t keep doing this, you know, the playground argumentative technique of “I know you are but what am I?” As I remember it, I saidoh hi new internand you looked at me like I was Rasputin’s bloated river corpse.’
‘I think the operative word here islooked.Are you telepathic?’ Connor said.
‘What were you thinking, then?’
A pause.
‘I don’t remember but it wouldn’t have been critical.’
‘Sounds like your brain needs to tell your face,’ Bel said.
‘Wait,I’mthe one who’s immature?’
Bel giggled.
‘I love that seconds ago we were afraid for our lives and now we’re bickering. We’re like a straight-to-DVD buddy cop movie,’ she said.
‘Doubting I have a conscience mere minutes after I prepared to save you from the consequences of your own actions is very you, huh?’
‘I didn’t doubt that!’ Bel said. ‘I was trying to figure your processes out. I’m insanely grateful.’
‘Night,’ Connor said, with world-weary intonation, turning over.
‘Night.’
All Bel had intended to do was say a heartfelt thank you, so that had gone brilliantly. After five or so minutes of feeling guilty, Bel said: ‘Connor?’
Silence.
‘In case there’s any doubt, I appreciate you being here so much.’
There was no reply.
35
Bel
MORNING (sorry, feels odd to message)– our guests left at dawn, Amber’s texted me, will fill you in shortly. I’m making breakfast for whenever you’re ready but you’re off-duty regards The Double Act. Feel free to have a shower if you want one.
Towels in there too. Just don’t nick my Springsteen tee, I saw you coveting it. Bx
Connor rubbed the sleep from his eyes and reread Bel’s words. He could smell frying bacon and hear music downstairs. He was embarrassed to discover he’d slept through Bel waking and getting up, and not only that, he’d kicked the sheet off in the post-thunderstorm heat, lying face down in his pants.
Oh well. If ever there was a bed partner who’d decline to ogle his arse, it was Bel Macauley.
He pondered that he found her infinitely easier to deal with when they dropped the pretence: not with company, but with each other. She had unexpectedly clung to him in their mutual terror last night, the soft squish of her breasts pressed hardagainst his rib cage and the dark rum perfume-smell of her hair in his mouth and nose again. Connor had been completely disarmed by her vulnerability and stroked her hair in nervous auto response, as if they really were seeing each other. He’d had time to notice she was wearing a bra, and the modesty of it was unexpected. He’d thought of Bel as confident to the point of careless. Maybe the underwear was about finding him deeply off-putting– the bed share was pretty agonising.
When it became clear that the threat was simply an incontinent pug dog gone rogue, he and Bel had nearly sobbed with relief. Connor was disturbed to discover his survival energies didn’t exactly dissipate but converted into a briefly powerful urge to further reassure Bel with his presence. He even kidded himself there was half a minute where she felt the same, that if he’d crushed his mouth against hers and started feverishly unbuttoning the silly pyjamas, she’d have let him. Bel would have been utterly revolted if she knew– and frankly, Connor was too. Apart from anything else, he was supposed to be trustworthy.
