Page 1 of One Cornish Summer With You
CHAPTER ONE
Surely, he had to be a bit mad?
Why else would he be sitting on the sea wall in a dark suit and tie, his shiny-shoed feet dangling over the edge? Wasn’t he sweltering in the sun that had arrived so unexpectedly in Cornwall for the late May bank holiday weekend?
The hot spell had taken almost everyone in Porthmellow by surprise, apart from Tammy, who ignored the forecasts and relied on her own knowledge of the Cornish coast gleaned from thirty-two years of living and working in the county.
Perhaps she should cut the man some slack. After all, she’d been working hard on her design and her body was glowing with the effort of scraping the rake over the firm sand. In contrast, Mr Suited and Booted was exposed to the keen edge of the Atlantic breeze. He might not be as hardy as Tammy, who was used to anything the Cornish climate might hurl at her.
She’d already decided he wasn’t from Porthmellow with his formal clothes and his light brown hair cut in a rather severe short style. He’d first come to her attention about half an hour ago when she was midway through her creation. Normally, she was so caught up in her work that she didn’tnotice anyone, which was what she should be doing now: focusing on finishing the design before the tide turned.
Even so, she risked one more glance and caught him staring out beyond the artwork to the waves that had started to roll back up the beach.
Unexpectedly, he switched his gaze to meet hers and seemed to smile, but Tammy turned away and dropped her eyes to the tribute she was creating to mark the fifth anniversary of her father, Neil’s, passing.
She’d been mulling over the design for weeks and still hadn’t made up her mind until she’d woken that morning. The rays streaming in through the window of her flat had warmed her face and helped her decide. The rising sun represented hope and a fresh start after all she and her family had been through.
She stepped back and laid her rake on the sand, satisfied that another mark would spoil the design and curious to get a closer look at the man who seemed as fascinated by her art as she was with him.
CHAPTER TWO
Shemustbe a tiny bit mad.
Ruan’s position gave him a bird’s-eye view of the intricate pattern the sand artist had etched on the beach. He was amazed that the elaborate design could be created with something as mundane as a garden rake.
Surely, though, it must be demoralising to spend so much time creating a stunning piece of art only to have it destroyed by the waves? Especially when her artwork was the perfect complement to the rugged Cornish setting: wild and beautiful … like the artist herself.
If there hadn’t been so many people milling around, Ruan would have laughed out loud at having a crush on someone he’d only seen from a distance.
He’d felt a right idiot, sipping his coffee dressed in a suit with sand clinging to the soles of his leather brogues. He’d have to try and clean them before his meeting – not to mention check the seat of his trousers for seagull poo. It had been all he could do to find a patch of wall that wasn’t spattered from the winged gangsters hanging around, ready to pounce on unwary tourists. Ruan had already witnessed one man losing his chips to a vicious-looking character who’d swooped from behind.
Ruan hoped the birds hadn’t yet developed a taste for organic flat whites. When he’d worked in Bristol, it had taken him ages to find the perfect coffee shop, so he’d been amazed to find a sophisticated roastery in a Cornish harbour town.
The sun was now high and hot, so he balanced his empty cup on the wall, took off his tie, put it in the front pocket of his laptop bag, and undid the top button of his shirt. Still uncomfortably warm, he dispensed with his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before turning his attention back to the artist.
She was packing away her folding rake in a duffle bag which she slung over bare shoulders gilded by the sun. Finally, she turned away from her design and looked upwards at Ruan, pulling the crinkly tendrils of hair out of her eyes as if she wanted to get a better view of him.
Goosebumps popped out on his exposed forearms. She was luminous, tanned and lithe in her vest top and denim shorts.
He half wished he’d kept his phone in his hand so he had an excuse to fix his eyes on its screen. He’d tucked it away in his bag to protect it from the sand. He couldn’t be without his phone: his clients, his cases – his whole business life – was contained there. His job depended on paying attention to detail. There was no room for distractions – including fanciful ideas about beach artists.
CHAPTER THREE
‘Wow. That’s amazing!’
‘How do you do that with only a rake?’
‘Can we take pictures?’
Voices rang out behind Tammy as people gathered around her sun design, crowding her. Keeping a smile fixed firmly in place, she offered a few brief answers while itching to get away.
‘Got a hat, love?’ The question came from a large man in a surf-branded T-shirt who, she guessed, had never caught a wave in his life. ‘Or something we can put money in?’
The question made Tammy’s spirits sink a little. Collecting coins on the beach wasn’t how she made her living, and besides, this piece of art was special. She certainly hadn’t done it for the money.
‘I don’t have a hat, but you could make a donation to the local charity if you like,’ she said pleasantly. ‘I can give you a business card with their website?’
The man’s brow puckered. ‘Between us, love, it’s the ideal chance to offload some change that’s wearing a hole in my pocket.’
