Page 33 of One Cornish Summer With You
‘Ruan …’
His eyes were still tightly closed when Tammy murmured his name.
‘Ruan,’ she said again, louder and making it sound like the key to a magic portal. An open sesame … Where had these fanciful feelings come from? This terrifying jumble of physical feelings and emotions he couldn’t put a name to?
‘Wow,’ he murmured.
‘Mmm. Wow …’
‘I don’t want this to end,’ he said.
She stiffened in his arms. He knew immediately that he’d said the wrong thing. The worst thing.
‘Everything has to end,’ she murmured, lowering her hands to his waist and resting them lightly there, as if she wanted to get away but was letting him down gently. Why had he said such a stupid thing? It was way too soon for her and he hadn’t really known what he meant himself.
‘This thing – between us. Us,’ she said. ‘We should enjoy it while it lasts.’
‘While it lasts? It’s only just started.’
‘Yes, but I want us to have no illusions.’
‘Illusions about what?’
She shook her head. ‘About some kind of holiday romance.’
‘I’m not on holiday,’ he said indignantly. ‘I live and work here.’
‘So you’re definitely planning to stay in the caravan?’ she asked.
‘Well, no. That is only temporary. I – need a more permanent home. I just haven’t decided one hundred per cent where that should be yet. It depends on work and on – other stuff.’
‘Don’t make it depend on me,’ she muttered. Then she spoke briskly. ‘Right, I have to go. It’s later than I thought. I promised to call round to Lola’s to help her eldest with his school art project.’
‘OK … Lucky boy.’
‘He won’t think that, but Lola says he needs inspiration.’She hesitated. ‘I really enjoyed today. It was fun having a helper and sharing – everything. I just need to take things a little slowly for now. OK?’
‘Of course it’s OK. Take it at any pace you want to. It’s all good,’ he said, torn between hope and disappointment.
‘Thanks. See you soon, then.’
Back at the car, Ruan flicked the lock on his Audi.
She got into her van, leaving Ruan wrestling with a much more pressing problem than admitting he’d inherited a beautiful old wreck. Tammy hadn’t suggested they make another date.
She closed the door of her van.
Christ. He had to try to salvage the evening.
He leaned down to the open window. ‘I’ll call you tomorrow, then? Fix something up?’ he said with a what he hoped was an encouraging, though not desperate, smile.
She nodded and smiled back. ‘Sure. That’d be good.’
‘Great,’ he said warmly. ‘Speak soon.’
With a wave, she started the van and drove off, leaving him on the clifftop, trying to make sense of a mix of conflicting emotions. She’d told him she wanted to take things slowly and then asked him whether he planned on staying around again.
She was as changeable as the sea and as unpredictable: and probably even more of a threat to his previously ordered, safe life. A life that – he realised to his horror – would be drabber and paler without her in it.
