Reach for the Stars: A feel good, uplifting romantic comedy

‘Am I getting this right? You’d like to scurry off somewhere and hide and instead you’re stuck with me. The unexpected guest.’ Nick gulped his tea. ‘I can only apologize.’

Ridiculously self-conscious, she fumbled in a cupboard for the emergency stash of chocolate biscuits. She popped off the tin’s lid and held it out to Nick, tightening her fingers to control the shake.

‘I’m being terribly rude. You’ve caught me on a bad day. Biscuit?’ She smiled, dredging up some cheerfulness she didn’t feel.

‘I’ve got a photo shoot coming up soon. I’m on a strict nutritional programme. I daren’t risk it.’

‘You wouldn’t risk it for a chocolate biscuit?’

He shook his head slowly, the line of his lips hard and tight.

‘I’d say “bad day” is one hell of an understatement. I have a suggestion. I’ll lie low here for as long it takes to sort my face out, keep out of your way, help you out in any way I can. And when it’s time for me to go you can tag along for a couple of days, keep me company on my photo shoot.’

‘That’s sweet, but really I couldn’t.’

‘Of course you could.’ The coaxing drawl fuddled her head. ‘It’ll be fun. The shoot’s in Paris.’

Chapter Three (#u91d75418-88a5-5e4c-aee4-00b120aed93c)

‘You’re inviting me to Paris with you? Seriously?’

To make things more stupefying she had a flashback to the delicious hold his body had had over hers when they’d danced together at the wedding on Christmas Eve. It was some sort of caught-on-the-rebound related delirium evidently. Either that, or overwork.

‘Think it over. No need to decide right away. Sounds like you could use some fun.’

Discombobulated she walked away from him carrying her mug of tea and the biscuit tin into the living room.

‘We don’t know each other.’ Balancing on the arm of the sofa she bit into the crumbly digestive and tasted the smooth milk chocolate on her tongue. ‘I feel a smidge bad. You sure you don’t want one?’

He shook his head and opened a smart holdall with a posh label on it and took out a selection of vitamins and potions. He unscrewed the top of what looked like a toothpaste tube and squirted green goo onto his tongue, chasing it with a swig of tea. ‘What I want to do and what I can do are two different things.’

‘What the heck was that?’

‘A food supplement.’ He made a face. ‘Part of my energizing diet.’ Nonchalantly, he opened each of the multiple pots in turn and popped a single pill from each.

Layla pulled a face. ‘Crikey. Give me a chocolate biscuit over that lot, any day of the week.

He put all the little tubs, packs and tubes bag into the holdall and stared at them for a second or two before zipping it up, a thoughtful look on his superlatively handsome face. ‘You know what, Red? You’re probably right. I think I will have a biscuit.’

That contagious smile twisted his lips and she handed over the packet.

‘Hello? Anybody in?’ Mervin wiped his boots on the doormat and stepped into the cottage. ‘You left the door ajar. You want to be careful about that. You don’t want just anybody letting themselves in.’ He gave Layla a quick once over. ‘By jingo, Layla love. What have you come as?’

‘I’m here to paint.’

He nodded wisely, and turned his attention to Nick. ‘What’s all this then?’ He bobbed his head in the direction of the doorway and gestured outside with his thumb. ‘I’ve had a report of an abandoned vehicle and lights on in a property that’s known to be unoccupied.’

‘Told you,’ Layla muttered at Nick in a whispered aside. ‘He’s here to arrest you.’

‘I take it that’s your car outside sir?’

‘It is. It’s a hire car.’

‘And the lights in the night?’

‘Guilty.’

Layla cringed. ‘You probably don’t want to be saying things like that.’

The puzzled policeman, eyebrows knitted, stood his ground, taking in the battered state of Nick’s face.

‘Cup of tea, Mervin?’ Since his arrival in the village he’d fast become the protector of his adopted community. He’d transformed her mum’s pub quiz group into the crack team to beat. To regain fitness after the accident Shelly had taken to hiking the coastal path, and Mervin often went too, the pair of them chaperoned by Ophelia.

‘No thanks, love. Things to do. I wouldn’t say no to a misfit though.’ His face turned red. ‘Sorry,’ he corrected, ‘I don’t know where that came from. I meant biscuit.’

Nick offered him the packet. ‘Help yourself.’

Layla knew exactly where the slip of the tongue had come from. He didn’t like the look of Nick.

‘Well, if everything’s alright here,’ he said through a mouthful of crumbs and not sounding entirely convinced, ‘I’ll leave you two to it.’ He beckoned Layla over to one side lowered his voice. ‘Looks like he’s seen better days. Are you sure he’s not bothering you? We had three complaints down at the station. I thought I’d better look in.’

‘He’s Maggie’s brother-in-law. He’s come to stay.’ She hesitated. ‘For a while.’

Mervin harrumphed, and Ophelia yelped, hinting that she’d like a biscuit. Nick took one, snapped a bit off which didn’t have chocolate on it, fed it to her and polished off the remainder himself.

‘I’m sorry I wasted your time,’ he told the policeman. He pointed to his eye apologetically. ‘I got into a scuffle with the press. Someone hit me with a camera.’ Silence. ‘By accident,’ he added. ‘Maggie kindly offered me the use of her place.’

Mervin stepped out into the sunny lane followed by Layla and the dog. He squatted and ruffled the dog’s fur. ‘I was sorry to hear about …’ He stumbled to find the right word and failed. ‘… You know!’

‘Yep. Thanks. Bye now.’ Layla avoided meeting the concern in his eyes.

The policeman stood his ground, not quite ready to leave. ‘You deserve better.’ He shook his head in disbelief. ‘As for Mr Pathetically-Poor-Parker in there.’ He gestured towards the house with his thumb. ‘The slightest whiff of trouble with him, and you know where to find me.’

‘Everthing’s okay, honest.’ She drew an X in the air with her finger. ‘Cross my heart.’ Since her mum’s accident and Joe’s departure everyone in Porthkara had been wrapping her in cotton wool so tightly, that it felt like she was in a straitjacket. She called Ophelia, walked briskly back inside and closed the door quickly. In a weird way, although she’d been shattered by the news that Joe was married, she felt calm – free to get on with living her own life.

There was a glimmer of curiosity on Nick’s compelling face.

‘Eavesdropping?’ She shut the door, closing everything out except him.

A muscle twitched in his cheek. ‘Not on purpose.’

The object of Nick’s mesmeric stare, she balled her fingers into fists, fighting off the chemical craziness of the smouldering attraction that had been distracting her since she’d walked in and found him asleep like Goldilocks. He was ridiculously fanciable, despite a black eye. Somehow it added to the loveable rogue thing he had going on. Even supposing the scandals written about him weren’t true, he had an undeniable air of mystique.

‘Since you’re here, I wonder if you’d mind helping me lug this lot upstairs?’ His cool vibe attracted and unsettled her simultaneously. She made a lunge for a bunch of paintbrushes and a colour chart, feeling like a klutz.

‘Sure thing.’

As he followed her up the narrow staircase, laden with paint pots and dust sheets, he marveled at his not entirely perfect view of her dungaree clad behind. At the top of the stairs she elbowed open the door to a small bedroom and dumped everything on the floor.