Their Secret Spring Fling - chapter three

Back at her parents’ house, Polly tried to pretend that everything was normal. That nothing out of the ordinary had happened that day. That she hadn’t kissed Archie Thompson passionately outside the lighthouse. That her body hadn’t been overtaken with a desire, a need so strong she didn’t know how she’d be able to stop it.

Her mother and father were looking after Polly’s niece and nephew. She helped her mother prepare an early dinner for the five of them, and after, Sarah came to pick the kids up.

By 7:00 p.m. Polly was sitting in front of the television with her parents, who looked as though they had settled in for the night. They were yawning; she was wired.

Archie Thompson? Her nemesis? What was she thinking, kissing him? Worse than that, telling him she wanted more? Begging for it?

As her parents debated what to watch, Polly’s phone buzzed with a message.

Archie.

She stifled a groan.

Would you like to meet at the pub for a drink?

A drink would be good. She wasn’t tired, and what harm could it do? They should clear the air. Better to get the awkwardness out of the way, since they’d have to see one another again before they returned home and they both knew what had happened that afternoon couldn’t happen again.

‘Can I borrow the car? I’m meeting someone for a drink.’

Her parents gave her the keys and mercifully didn’t ask who she was meeting. Polly contemplated just leaving in the clothes she’d worn that day, but at the last minute changed into her most flattering pair of black trousers and a blue blouse. She drove the short distance to the pub, and as she pulled up, she saw he was waiting outside for her.

Almost like he thought she’d have second thoughts.

Or that he would.

Standing next to him at the bar, she could smell subtle notes of his high-end aftershave. He’d made an effort. Just as she had. Damn. This time it really did feel like a date and not a casual catch-up. He ordered them both glasses of wine and they found a table.

They sipped their wine and made small talk, but the kiss hung between them, like a heavy cloud that she expected to break over them at any moment.

Archie was wearing a crisp blue shirt, with the top few buttons undone, and slim-fit jeans that clung perfectly to his thighs. Just thinking of how those thighs might feel wrapped around her made her mouth go dry.

She turned her attention from his body to his hands. That should have been harmless enough. She’d seen his hands hundreds of times before, but now she remembered his fingers sliding into her hair as he cradled her head. His palms sliding over the curves of her waist and lower, pressing her against him. She shivered.

She should get out of here before she did something else she’d regret.

When she drank the last sip of her wine, she said, ‘This was a good idea. Clear the air. Get the awkwardness out of the way and carry on like nothing happened.’

He studied her. ‘We could do that. Or we could go upstairs.’

‘Upstairs?’ Too late she remembered that this was an old-style hotel, with rooms upstairs.

Bedrooms.

‘I’ve booked a room. Just in case you’d like some privacy.’

She leant back, reeling. It could happen. He’d made it possible. She could go upstairs now and do all the things to Archie Thompson she’d wanted to do at the lighthouse this afternoon.

‘Oh, no. Have I misread this horribly?’ Archie looked stricken and Polly almost laughed.

She picked up his hand. ‘No, you haven’t.’

She followed him, wordlessly, out of the bar and up the stairs. She’d never been up here before. Never had a need. It was an old building but, like the bar below, had been extensively renovated.

As she watched Archie slide the key into the lock, her stomach twisted. He seemed to pause for a moment before turning the knob, but his shoulders straightened and he pushed the door open. Archie Thompson. It would be a bit of fun. What harm could it do?

He closed the door behind her and she spied a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket.

‘Confident much?’ she said with a confidence she herself didn’t feel.

‘Only hopeful. Would you like a glass?’

She shook her head. ‘Maybe in a bit.’

The buzz of another glass of wine might take away her nerves, but she also didn’t want to lose the thrill that was coursing through her veins. Or the pressure building inside her. And they hadn’t even touched properly.

A holiday fling. With Archie Thompson?

Why not? No one else here got her like he did. No one else here knew what it was like to have two lives—a Diamond Bay life and a rest-of-the-world life. No one else knew what it was like to live and thrive in a metropolis. No one else was as unnerved as she was by the calmness of Diamond Bay.

They stepped towards one another and it happened in a rush. He smelt so good, tasted even better, felt familiar but exciting. Soft and hard in perfect amounts. They picked up where they’d broken off at the lighthouse.

His lips were soft and as full as she’d seen under the mask, but the stubble was excitingly rough against her chin. Her knees gave away, but at the same instant she felt herself being lifted and placed gently on the bed.

She was kissing Archie Thompson, she was undressing Archie Thompson and it wasn’t a trick. She could feel him unravelling beneath her fingertips, hear the shortness of his breath, see his lids flutter. Archie Thomson, who had almost kissed her once before, who had left her confused about her feelings for him for years…

‘Wait,’ she said.

They both froze. Archie’s hard body stilled against her soft one. This was madness, wasn’t it?

‘Why now?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Why didn’t you kiss me at Brendan’s twenty-first?’

He rolled back from her and sighed. She was sad to lose the heat from his body, but the view it afforded wasn’t bad. His shirt was unbuttoned, half off, exposing a broad chest smattered with light hair and a taut, flat stomach. Her fingers itched to caress him. Her mouth watered to kiss him.

‘Because you were my best mate’s sister.’

‘I still am.’

‘You know things are different now.’

‘How are they?’ Polly could think of a hundred reasons why, but she wanted to hear them from him.

‘We’re adults. We know the score. Neither of us will get hurt if we do this. Back then, I probably would have hurt you and I couldn’t live with that.’

She exhaled. Good, they were on the same page. This was a fling. That was all.

No one would get hurt.

Polly gave in to the itch in her fingers and traced a line down his chest, around his nipples. He sucked in a sharp breath, and she continued her sketch down his stomach, sliding her hand under the waistband of his pants.

They didn’t get around to opening the champagne.

***

‘Can we keep this between ourselves?’ she asked, her heart in her throat, as they lay tangled in one another, gloriously naked, a few hours later. She didn’t regret what had just happened, but she didn’t want word getting out either. Not to her brother, or her parents. And certainly not to her grandparents. It wasn’t that she thought they would disapprove; she dreaded their approval much more. They were bound to read more into this than there was. It was just a holiday fling.

‘If you want,’ he replied.

‘I think it’d be for the best.’

She picked up her phone and looked at the time. It was nearly midnight.

‘I really need to get back to my parents’. They’ll wonder where I am and they need the car in the morning.’

‘Of course. I should get home as well.’

Polly slipped her clothes and shoes back on while Archie stayed lying in the bed, watching her. Her stomach tightened with desire building up again, but she had to get back. Having her family know about this would only complicate matters and this was just a casual fling. A one-off.

Once she’d tidied herself up, she walked to the door. She held on to the handle, not knowing what to say or how to leave things.

‘Well, this was nice,’ she said. Nice? Her entire body was still thrumming. She felt better than she had in months.

Archie looked at her from the bed. All he was wearing was a grin. ‘You know, I wasn’t sure if you’d be able to make it tonight. The room’s booked for tomorrow as well. If you’re interested…’

***

It became their routine. Sleep in their own beds, then head out for the day with each another, telling their families they were going on a picnic or a bushwalk, only to walk as far as the bed in the hotel and order room service for lunch. Her parents waved her off every morning and she returned for dinner most nights, but she spent the days with Archie.

It felt illicit.

That was why it was so fun; the secrecy made it so exciting.

And it was fun. It was addictive, dizzying and exciting. She couldn’t get enough of his body, making love with him. But it wasn’t just that. She loved lying in bed with him afterwards, holding one another, talking about everything and nothing, all at once.

When she felt herself become too comfortable, too dizzy with lust, she would remind herself that it was just a fling. Enjoying a holiday fling with Archie was one thing, but anything more was out of the question. They lived on different continents, neither of them were cut out for commitment and in a week’s time they would both board planes that were headed in opposite directions.

And that was fine, her job kept her busy. Chefs worked ridiculous hours. Chefs in Manhattan worked the worst. And it was how she liked it. The pace, the challenge. She had plans. Big ones.

This was a fling only, and that was perfect.

***

Archie was having a great holiday. Better than he had ever expected. Each night he caught up with his mother, saw old friends. But the days were for Polly, holed up in what he’d come to think of as their room. A small but comfortable room above the pub where he and Polly spent hot mornings and languid afternoons. Where they left the outside world at the door and their clothes on the floor.

The day before the anniversary party, Brendan invited him and Polly over for dinner and board games.

‘We can’t arrive together. They’ll suspect something,’ Polly said as she dressed herself that afternoon in the hotel room.

‘They’ll suspect that I gave you a lift. And besides, we’re not teenagers. We’re grown, independent adults who can come to and from dinner parties as we like.’

Polly nodded.

‘And so what if they do? It’s none of their business. And once we both leave…’

He ended the sentence there. They both knew the missing words. It was unnecessarily cruel to say them.

And once we both leave, this ends.

The days spent with Polly in their room above the pub were the happiest he’d had in years. They clicked. She understood his London life, but she understood his Diamond Bay life too. She was fun. She didn’t laugh at his jokes out of politeness; she laughed at his jokes because she got them. They got one another.

And Polly was beautiful. He couldn’t get enough of her. Their days together were too short and the nights spent alone in his bed to maintain the privacy of the relationship were too long.

But he was beginning to suspect some of the residents of Diamond Bay were onto them, despite their attempts to keep the relationship under wraps. It was a small town and the pub was a local. It was difficult to keep that he was renting a room every day a secret, even if the owners were discreet. He agreed with Polly that they should keep quiet about their fling. He didn’t want well-meaning friends and family interfering either. Especially when he and Polly both knew this was a temporary thing.

They both understood that after the anniversary party, they would go back to their respective cities. It was for the best—neither of them were suited to commitment. They both had their own lives.

If Brendan suspected anything when they arrived at his house at the same time, he didn’t say anything. Nor did Sarah.

The house smelt amazing, but Sarah was fussing.

‘Can I do anything to help?’ Polly asked.

‘No,’ Brendan barked. ‘You can sit down and have a glass of wine. She’s nervous enough cooking for you as it is.’

‘Oh, no, Sarah. I love being cooked for. I spend my life cooking for others. I dream of home-cooked meals I didn’t make myself.’

Sarah’s shoulders dropped and her face relaxed into a smile. ‘I do hope it’s okay.’

‘If it’s even half as good as it smells, it’ll be amazing.’

It was strange, being in the kitchen, Brendan passing him a beer, and he and Polly standing next to one another like they were here together. Like a couple. Even as he chatted to Brendan, he kept an ear out for what Polly was saying to Sarah. Wishing he could reach out and grab her hand. Slide his arm around her waist and pull her against him.

***

‘Okay, Pictionary,’ Brendan said after dinner. ‘Archie and I versus Sarah and Polly.’

Polly laughed. ‘Not on your life, you cheat! You and Sarah, Archie and I.’

‘I don’t cheat, but he does. I’ll be watching you closely,’ Brendan warned.

They sat on the floor around the coffee table. Archie was glad of the chance to have a reason to sit close to Polly.

He took the first card and saw the competitive gleam in Polly’s eye. He wanted to win the game for her, knowing now how it had hurt her so much when he and Brendan had ganged up on her when they were kids. Cheating was the easiest way to do that. But he also wanted to prove to her that the times he actually had cheated were few and far between.

In the end it wasn’t a decision he had to make. The first card read ‘atlas’, and after guessing ‘book’, she immediately guessed correctly. In turn, it took him two guesses to get her ‘opera’.

Brendan eyed them suspiciously.

‘We’re not cheating,’ they said in unison.

‘That’s not what I meant,’ her brother retorted.

***

Even though she was having a great evening, Polly longed to leave her brother’s house and get back in the car with Archie, even if it was just for a short while. He drove them up the road towards town and pulled over to the side of the road in the dark. Once he cut the engine, he turned to her and they fell into each other, their lips finding one another’s instantly. Her body tugged towards him, longing to be closer than the car seats allowed. As the pressure built up inside her in an exquisite, impossible torture, Polly pulled away, panting.

‘Do you think you could come up with an excuse to spend the night with me?’ Archie asked.

‘Not go home?’

He nodded his head.

She wanted to. But spending a whole night together? Actually falling asleep together? That was dangerous. And not because it would signal to their family that they were more than friends, but because it would mean that to Polly as well.

Don’t be silly, Polly, how is it any different to what you’ve already been doing?

But it was.

Because she knew that if she spent the entire night with him, they would be crossing the line they had agreed not to cross.

The feeling had been creeping up on her for days; she wasn’t sure what she wanted, only that it was more than what she had now. Seeing her friends and family so content, she was beginning to wonder if she really could make space in her life for someone else.

But even if she was ready to settle down, sadly she wouldn’t be doing it with commitment-averse adventurer Archie.