The Beach Holiday by Isabelle Broom

Author:Isabelle Broom [Broom, Isabelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 28

We half-ran, half-stumbled across the sand, my hand in Cellan’s as the two of us gave in to helpless laughter. By the time we reached the steps, I was out of breath – more from laughter than exertion – but Cellan did not give me time to recover.

‘Come on!’ he said, pulling me up behind him. His palm felt hot and dry. I gripped him tighter.

We had strolled down the beach without attracting so much as a glance a few hours previously, but now every pair of eyes seemed to be on us, following us, intrigued by us.

‘Hold up,’ I cried, as we thundered down the opposite side of the steps to the road. ‘I want to put my shoes on.’

Cellan shook his head. ‘No time. Here.’ He crouched with his back to me. ‘Get on.’

‘I’m not letting you piggyback me.’

‘It’s that or a fireman’s lift.’

When I didn’t immediately move, he made as if to stand and I yelped in alarm.

‘OK, OK – I’m getting on.’

There was nothing remotely sexy about a piggyback, but my body seemed to think otherwise. Almost as soon as my legs were wrapped around Cellan, and his hands were on my thighs, the same throbbing urgency that had taken over down on the blanket began to course through me once again. I was glad that Cellan could not see my face but guessed he must be aware of my heart beating. I could feel his, and it was pounding.

‘Where’s your hat?’ I asked.

Cellan froze. ‘Oh, shit.’

‘We can go back?’

‘No, no.’ He shook his head and continued walking. ‘Maddy will keep hold of it for me until I next see her.’

‘Your hair smells nice,’ I told him, sniffing it appreciatively.

‘Thanks.’

‘And you’re actually quite muscular, aren’t you?’ I added, moving my hands across his chest in an exploratory fashion. ‘Well done you.’

He grunted. ‘You have fantastic legs,’ he said. ‘But then, I knew that already.’

‘Been looking, have you?’

‘Yes.’

There was something in the tone of his ‘yes’ that made me pause, and the silence that followed felt loaded. Cellan carried me all the way back through the centre of the village, past the busy outdoor tables of restaurants, the open doors of noisy bars, and an ice-cream parlour with a queue snaking out and along the block, until eventually we reached the truck.

‘You have the keys,’ he said, but it was a moment before he relinquished his grip on me. I slithered to the ground as decorously as I could manage, dropping my eyes immediately to my bag when he turned, flustered under the weight of his gaze.

There was a click and a flash of headlights as the truck’s central locking system disengaged, and Cellan opened the passenger door.

‘I’m just going to put my shoes on,’ I said, hopping up sideways onto the seat.

Cellan reached down and took hold of my feet in his hands. ‘They’re all sandy.’

There was a wedge in my throat, and a pulse began to thrum somewhere deep inside.

‘It’s OK,’ I said, but

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