Good Enough to Trust (Good Enough, Book 2 - Going Back) (11 page)

“Yay, you’re out
of the land of nod. I did hammer on the door a couple of times but I thought
this might work better.” He gave another couple of sharp beeps. “Come on
sleepyhead, let’s be having you.”

It was my fault I
suppose, I had invited him over because I couldn’t ignore his texts anymore and
it wasn’t fair on him or me, or Ollie. I had to find out what he was expecting
from all this, what I wanted and how the hell that fitted in with all the rest.

“Play with your
toys quietly for two minutes.”

He grinned and I
pulled the window to, and shut out the cold air. Pulling on jeans while I was
cleaning my teeth worked okay, the jumper over my head not as well, but I’m
sure the faint smell of peppermint on wool wasn’t too bad. I’d more or less
given up on worrying about my hair, there’s only so much gunk a girl can put on
to try and stop the frizz and I think I’d exceeded it. For some reason last
time I’d been here I’d not noticed, whether it was the freedom, the being in
love or just the being young bit— but wild hair hadn’t seemed so important. I
pulled on my oversized pea jacket and tried to push the niggle inside away;
being in love, yeah I guess I’d thought I was. And if I thought it, it was as
good as being it.

Love. So maybe I
had come down here for a reason, not just running away. But it didn’t change
the past. And it didn’t mean it was reciprocated. He might not have left me
before, but I was pretty damned sure he had now.

I clambered into
the passenger side at exactly the same time Will climbed into the driver’s seat
and we nearly clashed heads. He kissed the tip of my nose and ruffled my hair,
so it was a damned good job I hadn’t wasted anymore time trying to tame it.
There was something about Will though, rugged, solid, the type of guy every
girl should think she wants. Uncomplicated too, I bet if Will told you he’d be
there for you then he would. Every single step of the way.

“What’s going on
in that head of yours?”

“Believe me, you
don’t want to know.”

“Betcha I do.” He
shoved the gearbox into reverse and set off back up the narrow, rutted driveway
at about double the speed I went when I was facing the right way. And about
five times the speed that Holly had done yesterday, although if he hit a tree
he probably wouldn’t notice. If Holly had the whole car might have caved in.
“So, where first?”

“A smuggler’s
cave.” He’d told me that he’d show me the hidden side of Cornwall, the bits the
tourists missed out on, so I’d challenged him to take me to six places of my
choosing, all off the beaten track. Seemed fair enough to me.

Will found me a
cave. I’m not convinced it was the real deal, but he spun a good story about
smuggling in the middle of the night, even though I’m sure some of the lines
came from ‘Smuggler’s Song’, and even in my ignorance I’d imagine a smuggler would
be mad to try and land along this part of the coastline in the middle of the
night.

“So how did they
get the stuff up to the top? I mean, you need to be closely related to a goat
to get up here when you’re not carrying stuff. How would you get barrels up?”

“Ah, you’re
related to a goat? That explains some things.”

“Like?”

“Those weird
noises you make.” I thumped him as hard as I could seeing as we were sandwiched
together at the bottom of a steep path. He made a funny sheep crossed with a
cow type of noise.

“I don’t do that,
you cheeky thing.” I progressed to a sharp poke in the ribs, and he groaned and
caught my hand, pulling me tighter against him.

“Want a bet? It’s
very sexy you know.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“You don’t believe
me, do you?”

I raised a
sceptical eyebrow. “About the sexiness of goat noises or the smuggler bit?”

“Both. Okay, how
about I take you to the best place for hot chocolate in the country?”

“Big claim.”

“It is.”

“So hot chocolate
is a Cornish speciality all of a sudden?”

“Hot chocolate is
a Cornish essential m’dear.”

I laughed, because
I couldn’t not when I was with Will. “What about beer?”

“Another
essential, same as whisky, which is why you need to believe in smuggler’s
caves. Come on.” He put out his hand and I grabbed it, letting him pull me
behind him up the rocky tangled pathway with an ease you just had to admire. A
goat-like ease. “Seeing as you stayed in bed so late I think we better get some
lunch.” I liked that too, a man’s recognition that I liked to stop and eat now
and again.

I settled for the
hot chocolate and was glad I had. The café was small, but oh so cosy, complete
with an open fire and a dozing cat and enough room for us to relax and spread
ourselves out a bit.

“Okay, I admit
it’s good.” I wiped the chocolate froth from my upper lip and glanced his way,
expecting him to be laughing at me, but he wasn’t even smiling he was just
looking.

“Sophie.”

I hate it when
people say Sophie like that.

“Will you stay?”

“You don’t think
I’m going to abandon a hot chocolate this good, do you?”

“You know what I
mean.” And I did, and he knew I did.

“I’m not sure I
belong here.”

“You could try it.
I’d like you to stay.” He wasn’t looking at my face anymore, he was looking
down at my hand. He buried it in his big, bear’s paw.

“You hardly know me.
I can be a right cow.” I laughed, tried to keep it light, but the way he was
gazing at my face told me it wasn’t working.

“I like cows.” But
he didn’t say it in a funny way, he reached out and traced a finger down my
cheek. “And I like you too, Sophie. Don’t ask me why.”

“Gee, ta, not
because of my sharp wit, stunning looks and body then?”

He ignored the
joke. “Oh I love your gorgeous body, and the way you laugh at everything.” He
was holding my hand, but it had a path straight to my heart. Which sounds corny,
but that’s the only way I could describe it. I wanted to shout, yes, yes, I’ll
stay, we’ll be happy. But I couldn’t.

“I’ve never met
anyone quite like you. You always see the bright side and you’re smart and
nothing like the other girls I’ve met.”

“That’s because I
don’t have to tramp the hillside and milk sheep every day getting all windblown
and miserable.”

“Ah, is that what
you were trying to do when I met you? Trying to milk my bullocks?”

“Don’t you milk
bullocks then?”

“I’d like to see
you try.” He gave me a mock stern look. “No, on second thoughts, I take that
back before you take it as a challenge and go and try.”

“See, I’d be
hopeless as a farmer’s wife. I know nothing.”

“You’d be a
gorgeous farmer’s wife, one of a kind. You’re different, unique.” It wasn’t his
normal confident grin; it was a question on his face that squeezed my heart,
the one he was holding, until it ached. But that was the trouble; loyal, steady
Will wanted a wife. And even if I was willing to try, I knew I’d make a crap one.
I’d be the wrong one.

“Different isn’t
enough though, is it?” Maybe it was for him, but for me, well I think I’d been
pretending, kidding myself that I didn’t need passion and adventure, but I did.
Which was why, all those years ago, I’d opted for daredevil Ollie and not the
measured excitement of Dane, with Dane I reckoned what you saw was what you
got, but with bad boy Ollie you’d just never be sure. Ever.

“It’s a start.
Stay Sophie. I’m not a city type, I can’t follow you back. I’m just a country
yokel.”

“You’re not just a
country yokel, Will.” He wasn’t, he was a gorgeous hunk of a man and even a
couple of weeks ago I would have been tempted to take him up on his offer. I
could have stayed here, at least for a year, had fun with Will and his
brothers. But I couldn’t just say yes anymore. Not even if my body kind of
wanted to. Even if I’d let Ollie down, I couldn’t let myself down. Not again.
And in his heart I’m sure Will knew that what we had was just, well just what
we had. “I’m not a city type either, but we’re different, we want different
things.”

“It’s him, isn’t
it? That Ollie, he’s the guy you came with the first time round and he’s why
you’ve come back.”

“I’m not right for
you Will.”

“An old line.”

“But a good one.”

He smiled, and it
nearly reached his eyes. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

“Maybe I’m just
not the type of girl who wants to settle down.”

“Oh, I doubt that
somehow.” He tucked my hair behind my ear. “You just haven’t found home yet.”
The brotherly hug was a bit like being with Charlie. “But you know where I am
if you need me. So, we can just have fun until you’ve finished whatever you
came down here to do?”

“We can.”

“How do you fancy
a ghost hunt?” So he took me to a house that was supposed to be haunted, then a
farm where you could buy Ruby Red beef that he said would melt in our mouths
and bought me a soft pink rose quartz stone that he said represented
unconditional love. He was a bit self conscious when he said it.

“It’s a happy
stone for a sad girl who likes to smile.”

“I’m not as sad as
I was.”

He smiled then,
and closed my fingers round the small gemstone and I wished life was simpler,
wished I could have loved him and stayed with him. “Come on, let’s go get the
steak cooked and drink a nice bottle of wine.”

He did that
building a fire bit when we got back and I watched the deep concentration on
his face as the flames took and he coaxed them into something more destructive.
And it was the look he’d had on his face as he’d coaxed me to the brink of
orgasm, the look he’d had when he asked me to trust him, the look he’d had when
he asked me to stay.

He was gorgeous,
like a good spoonful of Cornish cream, rich and full and good but someone I
knew I could have too much of. Life wasn’t fair, but no one ever said it was,
did they?

Will was a mate, a
brilliant mate, the type of man you could take out with your friends or share a
film and a bottle of wine with. But, whatever he said, I don’t think that would
ever be enough for him. Relationships are like that, one-sided sometimes. One
person wanting more, but putting up with less, never giving up, never
satisfied, always hoping. Or they can be equal. Wanting each other in the same
way. And that’s the glue that keeps them going, the glue that keeps people
together.

He half turned and
looked at me, the flickering flames behind him. “Don’t go, not yet.”

I might have
laughed at Holly and her ancient automobile, but at least it was vaguely
practical. Mine wasn’t, but I loved every glamorous inch of it. And there
weren’t that many, inches to spare that was, especially when you had suitcases
and rucksacks. The car had been a present to myself when I got my first pay
packet, the convertible I’d wanted since I’d passed my driving test. Speedy,
thirsty and a show off—yeah you didn’t need to be a psychologist to come up
with a comment.

I pushed and
prodded until the car gave in and swallowed up my belongings then I took one
last glance at my hidey-hole before heading back to real life.

There was still a
heavy dew on the grass and even the birds were hushed and I didn’t even put the
car stereo on, just let the steady thrum of the engine be the accompaniment as
we headed through the high hedged ghostly lanes. The sun was breaking through
by the time I got to the first ‘A’ road and was joined by the first of the
commuter traffic, but I still managed to keep up a steady speed as the eerie
dampness lifted and the weak winter sunlight trickled through.

I’d thought I’d
stay down here longer, but now I felt like I’d outstayed my welcome. Will was great,
but if I stayed, maybe it wouldn’t be as great because you can’t stay friends
forever when one of you wants more than the other, can you? Which was why I
couldn’t stay around Ollie any longer, because I wanted him. And if I stayed
I’d be messing up his life. He’d told me he couldn’t do it, couldn’t do the
‘him and me’ thing anymore. He’d realised it would never work, just as I’d
realised with Will. And it didn’t matter how much some tiny part of me wanted
to turn back the clock, if he didn’t want it then I couldn’t change a damned
thing. And I was old enough to realise.

I shifted down a
gear as the traffic built in front. He was happy down here; he had work, a
life. A life that didn’t include me, and when he came back from his few days
away the last thing he’d want to see was my beaming face welcoming him home. He
wanted peace and quiet, and I wasn’t so selfish that I was going to spoil it.
But I was sorry. Sorry that it had all gone wrong, but that’s fate I suppose –
the way it was meant to be whether I liked it or not.

The traffic had
slowed to a crawl and I wasn’t in the mood for sitting in traffic, so I turned
off the main road, onto a lane that I was pretty sure ambled its way back
towards the motorway at some point.