The Happy Endings Book Club (20 page)

Tilda started singing softly but Patrick poked her in the ribs a few times, which got her laughing and singing louder. Next up was “The First Noel”, then “The Twelve Days of Christmas”, which Tilda just swayed to because she only knew three of the twelve days.

She watched the crowd, everyone laughing and embracing this wonderful Christmas tradition that she hadn’t even thought about for decades. But mainly, she watched Patrick, and something inside her started to shift. Here was a man who had been dealt a hand of cards that many people would toss in. But he played that hand. He was so engaged with the people around him. He embraced life.

Tilda wanted to know him better. She wanted to talk and never stop talking to him. She wanted to know if he saw images when he dreamed, and if he was ever afraid of the dark. She wanted to hear about his childhood and his dreams for the future. What was his favorite color? Did he remember colors well? What tea did he drink? What moved him to tears?

She wanted to reach out and touch his face, because it was so beautiful. She wanted to know what it was like to wake up with him. And she wanted to know what it was like to lie naked with him.

And she would. Of that she was sure. She could envision that. She saw everything clearly now.

She moved closer to him. He placed a hand on her face and then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. Then he put the viola back under his chin and belted out “Joy to the World.”

And Tilda joined in, at the top of her lungs.

Clementine’s knees were shaking. What was she doing? Seriously! Turning up here unannounced like this
was
crazy.

She entered Sam’s apartment block and walked up the three flights of stairs. Each step of the way, she looked for an excuse to run. A sign that this was the wrong thing to do. But the stairwell was quite lovely. It was neat. Some of the apartments had potted plants outside the door, and welcome mats, which made Clementine feel better.

She reached Sam’s door and took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

It didn’t work.

She could hear music inside and pressed her ear to the door. Perhaps she should call first. Not that she had Sam’s phone number. Just Skype.

Bugger it. She was here. And she looked hot, in her boots and jeans. Her fringe was swept to one side. She was wearing cute cat-eye glasses. She’d had second thoughts about her jacket. Debra had taken one look at this one and laughed.

“You look like you work for FedEx.”

“That’s not nice, Debra. It makes me feel like shit.”

“Bollocks. I always tell you when you look hot.”

That was true. She was a good friend like that.

Clementine looked down at her coat. It was just a jacket. She’d remove it immediately anyway. Time to do it. She knocked.

God, she was so nervous. She clutched Sam’s present in front of her.

She heard the lock. The door swung open, and … it was a pretty blonde woman about her own age.

“Hi, do I need to sign for that?”

Clementine was thrown. Her eyes darted past the blonde to another woman, with dark hair and a familiar face, walking down the hall.

“Who is it, honey?”

“Delivery.”

“I’ll sign for it,” she said to the blonde.

The blonde turned and gave her a kiss. “Aren’t you sneaky, Sammy. Another present for me.”

And with that she disappeared down the hall.

“Clementine?”

“Your back healed quickly.”

“I thought you understood,” said Samantha. “I live with someone.”

“I thought you meant a roommate.”

Sam’s blue eyes flashed angrily. “Are you seriously that naive?”

And with that, Clementine turned and fled from the building.

*

Sadie ignored the throbbing in her skull that warned her not to open her eyes, ever, ever again, and did so anyway. Big mistake. He was there. He was next to her and looked nothing like the guy she’d come home with. That guy had been sexy, and charismatic, with an aristocratic air about him. This snoring beast had probably killed that guy, stowed the body and crawled into Sadie’s bed while she slept.

Fuck vodka, fuck lime, fuck soda, and fuck why did she drink so much?

Christmas, that’s why.

Sadie tried to pull her arm out from under him, but it was stuck. She considered chewing it off, but didn’t want the blood to ruin her new sheets … although letting Yeti-man shag her in them had pretty much destroyed her fondness for them anyway. Amazing how you could have three (okay, twelve) drinks too many and think that you’re christening a new set of sheets, when you’re just creating cringe-worthy memories you’ll relive every time you hang them on the line.

Why oh why oh why did she shag him? They’d had such a nice night. He was a nice guy. But he wasn’t her type. She
totally
wasn’t attracted to him. And she hated to think that by shagging him she’d given him the impression that she was.

He stirred slightly, and, bless him … quietly farted. Either that or he was lying on a mouse. Sadie couldn’t remember reading about that little idiosyncrasy on his VIP profile. It had assured her that he loved exploring new places (okay, so she could vouch for that), eating out (once again …), and was a voracious reader (he sure as hell kept reading the drinks menu last night!). But in all honesty, it was the quote. Sadie was a sucker for a good quote and Yeti-man here—or BookBoy55—had quoted Eleanor Roosevelt: “Great minds discuss ideas. Average minds discuss events. Small minds discuss people.”

What chance did she have? She didn’t care if he’d got the quote from a Celestial Seasonings tea packet. As a full-time single mother she was so sick of discussing school events and who did what to whom in the playground. She desperately missed discussing ideas. The only time anything of any real meaning came out her mouth was when she was at her monthly book club. The rest of the time it was just “pick that up” and “don’t hit your sister/brother” and “eat your vegetables.” She was desperate for some adult conversation. Some adult connection. She wanted to talk to someone. So she’d agreed to go out with BookBoy55 hoping they would be able to talk.

And they did. He was smart and funny and it was the best evening of conversation she’d ever had. The problem was his looks. He wasn’t her type. She liked pretty boys. Her friend Amanda had recently joked that she liked them young, dumb and full of cum. And she certainly had a history with that type of guy. But Sadie was the first to admit she was looking for something
a little
different now. She wasn’t interested in dumb … just young and cum.

Sadie wanted young, hot and smart. Was it too much to ask? Apparently, yes. This one was smart. But he also looked like the abominable snowman. He was huge. Tall, stocky, with big hands and features. Big everything, she now knew … She lay there staring at the ceiling, holding her aching head with her free hand. Why oh why oh why did she shag him? She scoured her brain for where things went off track. What the hell had happened last night?

*

Sadie walked into the restaurant and looked around. A large man in the corner was waving at the waiter, or waving away flies, but she couldn’t see her date. Damn it. She’d made sure she was late. She was nervous enough without arriving before her date. She was just about to ask to be seated when the waving giant stood and made his way toward her. She looked around. Was he coming to greet someone behind her? No. She realized with a sinking heart that this was BookBoy55. And by the time he reached her, large hand outstretched, big smile on his face, she was wondering how she was going to get out of the date.

“Sadie, Harry. You look just like your photo.”

“Nice to meet you.”
You look nothing like yours
, she thought.

Sadie silently fumed as she followed him back to the table. The photo he’d posted on the dating site was at least twenty years out of date. He must be twenty years older than her, and looked it, with his graying hair and beard. He looked more like Hagrid from Harry Potter than her ideal man. What a complete waste of time. She’d rather be home with a book.

He pulled her chair out for her and waited until she was seated to return to his own. He sat back and watched her for a moment. He didn’t seem nervous. In fact, he came across as a man very comfortable in his own skin. But then, thought Sadie, he’d had years to get used to it.

He opened the drinks menus and placed it in front of her. “Do you like wine? The Journey Valley cab sav is particularly good here.”

“I’ll have a vodka lime and soda.” She didn’t mean to snap, but did.

He didn’t react. “Excellent. I think I’ll join you.” He called the waiter over. “Four vodka lime and sodas, thank you.”

Sadie raised an eyebrow. “Four?”

“Yes, I figure we can slam one back and sit on the second. Might break the ice.”

Sadie smiled, for the first time since she’d arrived. “I’ve never done this before.”

“Order four vodkas?”

“No, I’ve done plenty of that.”

“Then you must mean the online dating thing.”

“Yes. I’m way out of my comfort zone.”

“I find that’s the best place to start.” Harry smiled. “So I know that you’re thirty-six, Libran, with two young kids and an interest in sports and an unquenchable thirst for reading.”

“You memorized my profile.”

“It wasn’t that long.”

“Well, it sums me up.”

“Oh, I highly doubt that. Even the most average people can’t be summed up in one sentence.” He watched her across the table. “Tell me about this unquenchable thirst.”

Sadie shuffled in her seat. Unquenchable thirst? Where the hell were the drinks? “It was probably a daft way to describe how I feel. To be honest, I’ve only become an avid reader in the past couple of years. Since having kids and especially since my divorce.”

“Books are great company.”

“So I’ve discovered.” Certainly better company than her ex, Craig, who wasn’t the brightest bulb in the box. Unfortunately he was a good-looking one, and it had taken Sadie seven years to recognize that beneath the drop-dead gorgeous exterior lay … well, not much.

The drinks arrived and they paused to order their meal. Then they smiled across the table at each other, clinked their first drinks, and tossed them back. Sadie felt the vodka hit her immediately. She picked up her second drink and sipped it slowly through a straw.

“Your profile said you’re an archaeologist.” It was that that had caught Sadie’s eye, not his out-of-date photo. She’d also missed all the other details on the profile. She’d just read
archaeologist
and knew she wanted to meet him.

“I’m a rescue archaeologist for the British Museum.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s say a developer goes into an area and starts tearing it up and comes across a find. They don’t want to waste time and money allowing the place to be excavated. So people like me fly in and we do our best to save, move, and preserve the archaeological site or monument.”

Sadie was genuinely impressed. “You’re like a superhero for artifacts.”

“I even have a cape and tights,” Harry grinned.

Sadie ran her eyes over his chest. He was a big man, that’s for sure. Pity about the lazy eye. It wasn’t too noticeable. Most people wouldn’t be aware of it at all. But Sadie could pick everything from a scurfy scalp to a stray nasal hair a mile away. She didn’t mean to notice people’s faults. They just jumped out at her.

She sipped her vodka. “So your profile said you’re divorced with kids?”

“Two sons and a daughter, all adults now.”

“Why did you get divorced?”

“We’d outgrown each other. It takes some courage to admit it and fortunately my ex-wife is a courageous woman. We’ve remained friends.”

“Do you see her often?”

“We have dinner when she’s in London. She’s French and lives in Paris now. She’s a lecturer at the Sorbonne.”

Sadie suddenly felt embarrassed by her “I’m an avid reader” speech. Harry seemed to sense that and changed the subject.

“How about you, Sadie? What do you do?”

The second vodka was hitting the spot and she motioned for the waiter to bring some more. “What do I do? Not much, Harry.” Sadie laughed, but there was a bitter thread beneath it. “I met my ex, Craig, when I was twenty. I was a fitness instructor at the gym he owned. I helped him build up his business. We opened a second, and then a third. By the time we divorced he had eight gyms all over London. Have you heard of Munn’s Gyms?”

Harry looked apologetic. “I’m not much of a gym person, sorry, Sadie.”

“No need to apologize. Turns out nor am I.” Sadie leaned forward on the table. “Around the time I had the kids, it finally occurred to me that I was bored out of my brain. I was still doing the books. I dealt with the accountants. Craig was more the frontman, I ran the back end. I stopped going to the gym, as you can probably tell.”

“No, I can’t. I think you’re stunning.”

Sadie was taken aback. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had been so straightforward about her attractiveness. The fact that she’d stopped working out had been a huge bone of contention between her and Craig.

Sadie looked around the room, unsure what she was trying to say. Then, because she felt she had nothing to lose with this man, she said, “I agreed to come out tonight because your profile sounded interesting. And quite frankly, my life has been rather dull for some time.”

“Then give me a chance to interest you.”

“I thought I was.”

“You’ve had one eye on the door since you arrived. How about you slip your shoes off and relax. It’s one night out of your life. Take this night and see if I interest you.”

Sadie stared at him. He was already interesting. He just wasn’t attractive. That wasn’t true either. He was striking, and certainly had a powerful build. She felt like she was dining with a Viking. But she’d be lying if she said he was her type.

Although her type was up for review.

Sadie had been so bowled over by Craig’s looks that she hadn’t noticed he lacked substance. Since the divorce, she’d only slept with one man. He was younger than her, and prettier, which they both silently acknowledged when they woke up together. It’s why she’d changed the age range on her VIP online dating profile. She couldn’t bear the humiliation again—or the thought of another evening of mundane conversation that eventually led to less than average sex. She hadn’t even had an orgasm.

Sadie smiled at Harry and slipped her shoes off.

“Great. Now … let’s get to know each other.”

And they did. They talked over their meal, and a few more vodkas. Then they went to a nearby bar and kept drinking. He held open doors, guided her across roads, pulled out chairs. He paid for dinner, and paid her compliments.

And best of all, he was interested in what she had to say.

“I’ve been looking after my friend’s bookshop for the past few days while she’s dealing with some personal stuff.”

“Are you enjoying it?”

“I love it.” Sadie’s eyes lit up. “It’s called the Happy Endings bookshop.”

“I know it. In Muswell Hill. Lovely little shop.” He smiled at her. “Are you after a happy ending?”

Sadie was embarrassed. “Aren’t we all? But what does it mean, anyway? I’d rather have a happy beginning and work up from there.”

“True. Not much point of a happy ending. What do you think being happy means?”

Christ, when was the last time a man had asked her opinion on anything? “I think people waste a lot of time thinking,
if I had that person, that job, that house, that body … then I’d be happy
. I think it’s about a shift in perspective. It’s seeing things clearly.”

“Do you see things clearly?”

“Not always. I’ve spent most of my life being bloody superficial.”

They stared at each other for a moment and she had a sudden and surprising surge of attraction toward him. He knew it too. He reached out and took her hand, and then continued talking. It felt like the most natural thing in the world.

They talked about books, and films and politics. He shared funny stories from the field about finding mummified remains and ancient civilizations. Harry had traveled far and wide, and listened to her dreams of how she wanted to. And as each hour passed, with each drink consumed, he became more and more attractive.

Until he led her into a taxi and home to her new sheets.

“You are one fucking gorgeous creature,” Harry growled as he peeled off her clothes the minute they got in the front door.

She could get used to these compliments.

Before she knew it, she was standing in nothing but her underwear in the hallway.

Harry pushed her against the wall and kissed her. Christ, he could kiss. He was good at it too.

“You taste delicious.” One hand skillfully undid her bra at the back while the other grabbed hold of her breast and lifted it to his lips. He ran his tongue over her nipple. She wrapped her arms around him. He was so big, so fucking masculine.

Her hand ran across his jeans and she felt something straining to get out.

“Let me touch you,” she groaned.

“Not yet.” His hand slipped into her underwear and then deftly parted her lips. And then one finger, just one finger, slowly rubbed—barely touching, it was so gentle.

“Feel how wet you are, Sadie?”

“Yes.”

“That means you want me.”

“I do.”

Sadie was still standing, pressed against the wall, but it was only his free arm holding her upright. Her legs were weak beneath her. She felt like she was dissolving.

He parted her legs and kneeled before her. His hands wrapped around her waist while his mouth ran a trail across her stomach … and down … inside her thigh … until his tongue gently rested on her, and then as she began to quiver beneath it, he began to lick.