Carrington’s at Christmas: The Complete Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s, Ice Creams at Carrington’s. Alexandra Brown
of you. You fancy the pants off him, so just go for it. Grab him with both hands … one on each bum cheek,’ she urges. ‘You never know, he could be your Valentine date, imagine that?’ And for a brief moment I try, but the thought is just so ridiculous I can’t even seem to get an image of it in my head.
‘Have you finally gone mad?’ I laugh, trying to change the subject.
‘Well, think about it at least. Anyway, how do you know he’s shagging Maxine? I’ll ask Nathan.’ And before I can shout ‘NOOO!’ I hear her muffled voice quizzing him. My insides churn – what if it gets back to Tom that I’ve been asking about him? The shame of it. ‘Right, Nathan says that as far as he knows he’s not a player. A true gentleman, apparently. But then he only knows him from the club … but he agrees with me, and I say just go for it.’
‘Stop it. I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation,’ I say, wishing I’d never mentioned it.
‘Remember what I said about James, and I was right then, wasn’t I?’
‘Yes. But that was totally different. He was happily married, or so I thought, and besides he asked me out. And we’ve been friends for ages.’
‘OK. So next time you’re alone with Tom … well, just try flirting a bit.’ There’s a scratchy sound, as if Sam has dropped the phone, but then I hear her telling Nathan that it’s ‘girls’ talk’. ‘Sorry about that, I don’t want him hearing my seduction secrets,’ she laughs.
‘So are you having a good weekend?’ I ask, keen to change the subject.
‘Faab-u-lous.’ I hear Sam squealing, followed by a squelchy sound that I guess to be Nathan’s lips. ‘Georgie, I have to go. But try to have fun. And remember … one on each cheek!’
The line goes dead. For a few minutes I ponder on everything Sam said. The idea is ludicrous. But perhaps I am just being paranoid – even Eddie seems to think so. I allow myself a moment to indulge in fantasising about Tom, before dragging myself back to reality. He’s probably in his room right now, laughing his head off.
25
The hotel lounge is deserted when I eventually make it back down, but then I am half an hour late.
‘Can you tell me which way the pier is, please?’ I ask a passing uniformed girl, figuring it won’t be too hard to catch up with the others, given the size of the group.
‘Sure, I’ll show you on a tourist map. We have some behind the reception desk.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, wondering if anyone would notice if I sloped off home instead. It’s a miserable day outside. All grey sky with bruised-looking clouds.
‘It’s OK. I know the way.’ It’s Tom, and he must be standing right behind me. My face freezes, and then panic swirls through me. Blooming typical. I brace myself, waiting for him to say something about earlier, desperately willing my cheeks to stop burning. I swallow hard and remember Sam’s advice to brave it out before turning around. But it’s no use … the minute I see his gorgeous smiling face, I crumble.
‘What are you doing here?’ I ask, nerves making me sound ridiculously shrill. I cringe. His name definitely wasn’t down on the list. Looking taken aback, he hesitates before answering.
‘I thought I’d wait for you. You don’t mind do you?’
‘No, no, I … I guess not.’
‘Great.’ He smiles. ‘Let’s make our way over to the crazy golf then. The others were heading there first,’ he says, cheerfully, gesturing for me to lead the way. I force my legs into action and head over towards the exit, willing my cheeks to stop burning. I’m speechless, and his coolness throws me. It’s as if my utterly embarrassing performance in his bedroom never happened.
We make it to the promenade and manage to find the crazy golf, but the others aren’t there.
‘You OK?’ Tom asks.
‘Sure, why wouldn’t I be?’
‘No reason. You’re very quiet, that’s all. You barely said a word on the way here.’
‘Well, you walk very fast,’ I say, trying not to gasp as I rest my elbow on a nearby wall. It was all I could do to keep up with him, let alone hold a coherent conversation too. Besides, I’m not entirely convinced I want to talk to him, if he’s in cahoots with Maxine.
‘Oh, you should have said. Sorry,’ he says, obliviously.
‘Never mind. Look, they’re obviously not here, let’s go,’ I say, turning to leave.
‘Ahh. But it would be a shame not to have a game at least,’ he says, smiling and making a pleading face.
‘Are you kidding? It looks like it’s about to pour down,’ I say, peering up at the thunderous black clouds.
‘No. Come on, it’ll be a laugh,’ he gestures with his head towards the ticket booth. I hesitate. ‘I love crazy golf,’ he grins again and my guard subsides.
‘Take one of the buggies love … if you’re worried about getting wet,’ the tattooed guy on the booth hollers out to us, pointing to a queue of miniature buggies. I frown, seriously wondering if we’ll both actually fit on the minuscule seat. It would be just my luck to get wedged in and end up making an idiot of myself in front of Tom again.
‘Go on! Live a little. My treat. I’ll sort out the clubs and balls,’ Tom adds, eagerly, already walking towards the ticket booth. I nod. So Nathan was right, he is the perfect gentleman. But then I remember how cosy he was with Maxine in the corridor that time. This is probably all part of their game. Well, they’re not going to catch me out. Oh no no no.
*
‘So, have you played golf before?’ Tom asks. He locks his dark brown eyes onto mine as I turn to face him. My resolve from earlier floats away. He looks incredible. He smells incredible. Vanilla and chocolate. And no matter how hard I try, I can’t seem to stop my body from tingling all over with desire for him.
‘Well, a little. My dad used to show me,’ I say, trying to sound normal in spite of my pounding heart. ‘He was a great player,’ I then add, biting my lip at the sudden bittersweet memory.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. Has he passed away?’ he asks, gently.
‘Oh no, nothing like that.’ I shake my head. ‘We, err … just don’t see much of each other any more,’ I finish, wishing there was more room in the buggy. His thigh is pressed against mine, and the intensity of his touch feels like a furnace scalding through the fabric of my trousers.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking as though he genuinely cares as I remember the happy times with Dad. Once again I reflect that, with everything that’s happened recently, I’ve seen a glimpse of what it might have really been like for him all those years ago. I reiterate my promise to myself to call him when I get back.
We arrive at the first tee, and Tom leaps out of the buggy and hands me a club.
‘Thanks, but I’m left-handed, so this won’t be any good. I’ll just watch.’ Ha! I feel pleased with myself for managing to call his bluff.
‘I know you are,’ Tom says smoothly. ‘But it’s a double-sided club. I checked with the guy on the ticket booth.’ Hmmm. He looks taken aback, and I instantly feel embarrassed by how curt I’m being with him, and secretly flattered that he noticed I was left-handed. He hands me the club, followed by a bag of balls, before heading off. I follow along behind him, studying how his perfectly cut jeans fit nicely around his impressively taut bottom. I remember Sam’s bum-cheek comment, and grin.
‘Are you sure you’re OK?’ Tom asks as I arrive next to him.
‘Yes, yes I’m fine,’ I reply, trying to get my lust