Chapter 21

21

N athan was rooted to the spot. His lungs seized up as Gennie came down the stairs in an emerald green dress. She was a knockout, all curves and class. The kind of woman who made a man forget his own name, postcode, and how to breathe.

She wasn’t in heels, she was wearing a pair of chucks with her dress. Total perfection.

Just like that, he was signed, sealed, and delivered into the hands of this Yankee goddess who’d turned his world over.

‘Gennie’s so pretty!’ Abby beamed at her dad. ‘Are you going on a date? Like on the telly?’

He let out a cough – in an attempt to dislodge his heart that had somehow migrated there. ‘Something like that, sweet pea.’

‘You look like a lady,’ Abby said to Gennie, eyes wide as saucers.

Gennie’s laugh hit him like a double shot of Talisker, warm and smoky. ‘Thanks, Abster. You look pretty spiffy yourself in your Octonauts jammies.’

Gordon and Martin shared a look that was about as subtle as a foghorn. ‘You two have a good night,’ Gordon said, waggling his eyebrows. ‘Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.’

‘Aye, and that leaves a lot of room for interpretation.’ Martin chuckled.

Nathan rolled his eyes. ‘Awright, you lot. Not too many sweeties and to bed at nine.’

Her tiny hand covered her mouth. ‘We won’t, Da. Pirate’s promise.’

Nathan kissed her hair. ‘Be good for Gordon and Martin, aye?’

She nodded, face scrunched up in adorable earnestness. ‘Aye!’

He turned to Gennie, and she stood close. So close he smelled her, vanilla and something like sunshine on warm skin. Left him half-mad with the need to pull her against him, to bury his face in the crook of her neck.

But he didn’t. Not with an audience. Not when everything was so new, so fragile.

Whatever the hell ‘everything’ was.

‘Ready?’ His voice grated like rusted metal.

She smiled, her eyes sparkling in the soft light of the hallway. ‘Born ready.’

They stepped out into the night, the cool air fell like a blanket on his hot face. He opened the passenger door and the gentleman his mum had raised went head-to-head with the inner caveman who wanted to toss her over his shoulder and leg it back to his lair.

She slid into the seat and her dress rode up to reveal a slice of toned thigh. He swallowed hard, his fingers itching to touch, to explore that smooth skin.

This was going to be a long night.

He walked around to the driver’s side. There were so many ways this could go wrong. She was too young, too bright, too good for the likes of him. But as he slid behind the wheel and met her gaze, his doubts melted away. She was here, with him, and that was all that mattered. He’d sort out the rest later.

‘Let’s go.’ Her lips curved in a smile that would make a saint sin.

Nathan had no choice but to grin back. ‘Yeah, let’s.’

His hands clutched the wheel like a lifeline as he navigated the winding roads. The forest to the side was a thick tapestry of shadows and whispers. The moonlight filtered through the trees and cast eerie patterns on the tarmac that danced and swayed like drunken ghosts.

‘So, Abby,’ Gennie said and broke the silence. ‘Must be tough, raising her on your own.’

Nathan grunted, his eyes fixed on the road. ‘It’s not easy, but we manage. We don’t know any other way.’

‘She’s an amazing kid, though. I adore that little munchkin. You’re doing a fantastic job.’

He glanced at her, surprised and flustered at the compliment. ‘Thanks. I try my best.’

The conversation lulled and the weight of silence pressed down on them. His mind scrambled for something, anything to say.

‘How’s your ankle?’ he asked and cringed at his social clumsiness.

‘Better,’ she said with a smile in her voice. ‘Should be back to kicking ass in no time.’

Their hands touched as they both reached for the radio, static buzzing as if they’d stuck their fingers in a socket. He jerked his hand back, his skin burning from the contact.

‘Almost there. You picked a spot in the middle of nowhere, Gennie. Hope you’re hungry.’

‘Oh, I’m starving. The Tayside Arms came highly recommended by some of the crew. Can’t wait to see what all the fuss is about. Hey, if it sucks, we can always get a burger.’

‘Heard of the place, but I’ve never been. And I can always scramble you some eggs.’ He smiled again, and the stiffness eased from his shoulders. It was becoming a habit around her.

His hand hovered at the small of Gennie’s back as they approached the Tayside Arms. Her body heat seeped through the flimsy dress like a brand on his palm. She’d insisted on leaving her coat in the car. ‘There’s never enough space in those places. Also, my dress looks amazing.’

He couldn’t have agreed more. That sinful slip was showcasing every God-given and hard-earned curve.

Lord have mercy on me.

A brief, rustling movement in the bushes caught his eye. Probably the breeze. Lampposts spilled spots of light across the garden, where autumn leaves clung to their branches like old men to their pints.

The Tayside Arms was a historic and elegant stone building, a former large stable on the estate around the corner, with a steep, moss-covered roof, small panelled windows, and a sturdy chimney. The front was a wide porch supported by white columns.

As they stepped inside, the faint scent of wood smoke from the fireplace enveloped them. The low drone of posh twats discussing the weather and house prices hummed in the background.

The server greeted them and led them through the small gaps between tables.

Gennie froze when a leggy redhead and her entourage swanned past, cackling like a coven of witches. The ginger bird waved at them and smirked like she knew all the secrets of the universe.

‘Friends of yours?’ Nathan asked.

A hint of crimson coloured her cheeks. ‘For your information: that was Emmy-winner Zarah Shah. The lead in the film we’re shooting. She plays Maid Marian.’

He shrugged. ‘Doesn’t ring a bell.’

She let out a soft snort. ‘Doesn’t surprise me.’

He led her further in, his hand still at her back. In his case, a gesture that screamed ‘mine’ louder than a hickey.

A whisper slipped past them, barely audible over the din. ‘Isn’t she a bit too young for him?’

Nathan’s teeth ground together as if he meant to turn them to dust. The impulse to pull Gennie closer, to shield her from the prying eyes and wagging tongues, welled up inside him. But he resisted and settled for a subtle squeeze of reassurance.

Let the bastards talk. He knew the truth. She was right for him. As right as gin after a shite day, as right as that first sip of coffee in the morning.

After they sat down, Nathan scanned the menu. His eyes narrowed at the pretentious writing. ‘Who the hell named a cocktail “Persephone’s Pomegranate”? Eton snobs, that’s who.’

She laughed, and the sound warmed him from bollocks to brain. He could get high on that laugh alone. ‘I’ll stick with a glass of white. Can’t go wrong with the classics. Not when you’re driving that is.’

‘Fair enough. I’m going to try the “Midsummer Night’s Dream”.’ As the waiter left, Gennie leaned forward, her elbows on the table. ‘You know, we’re doing this all backwards.’

He cocked his head. ‘How so?’

‘Well, usually it’s the date first, then the making out, then the cosy nights in. We’ve gone in reverse.’

‘Aye, well, we’re not ones for convention, are we?’

She reached her hand across the table to brush against his. ‘No, I suppose we aren’t.’

He was in deep, and he knew it. This woman, with her quick wit and infectious laugh, had got under his skin like no one had in years. If ever.

Nope, not ever.

It was equal parts thrilling and shocking, the way she made him drop his guard. But the walls around his heart were there for a reason, built brick by painful brick. He couldn’t let himself forget that. At least not completely. No matter how much he might want to.

But fuck, he wanted to. Badly. He wanted to bask in the joy that was Gentlestorm Rivers.

And he would for as long as she was here.

After that? He’d have to see. Maybe he could persuade her to stay a bit longer. For now, she was with him, and he was taking in every bit of her.

Conversation was easy then. She told him about her stunt school times, he reciprocated with stories about Abby that had her in stitches. Being able to share his love for his little girl with someone else – it was an incredible feeling.

As Nathan carved into his grilled chicken, he scanned the restaurant and his hair stood on end. For a heartbeat, he could have sworn someone was watching them, but the notion disappeared as quickly as it had come.

‘You okay?’ Gennie’s voice pulled him back.

‘All good.’ He pushed his paranoia aside. ‘Just thinking how amazing you look tonight.’

That was the understatement of the century.

A pretty blush stained her cheeks. ‘Is that so?’

His heart stuttered in his chest and a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the glass of wine. Christ, the things this woman did to him. ‘I’m not one for flattery. You’re beautiful, Gennie. Inside and out.’

Those golden eyes with a ring of deep brown, flecks of amber and green, like sunlight filtering through leaves. They were sharp enough to cut glass and held a question that made his chest tighten. There was also a calm in them. It was this calmness that knocked him out. It made him think that she knew things – things about life, about him – that he hadn’t figured out yet.

The twelve years between them? Irrelevant.

‘I have news.’ She took his hand.

News? His heart banged against his bones like it was trying to break free and run away with her. ‘Shoot.’

‘I got a call from Darius, our stunt coordinator. Chloe Winslow had to stop filming. A critical intervention by friends and family, apparently. They shipped her off to the Betty Ford Clinic. Now he wants me to step in with some of her last scenes.’

‘Acting? Is that what you want?’ She had the looks, no doubt. But that was a huge step into the snake pit.

‘I think so. My ankle’s almost back to normal, and the rib’s healing. It’s a great opportunity.’

He reached out and tenderly swept a strand of hair from her face. ‘Promise me you’ll be careful. Not just with your body. The limelight is a bitch.’

‘I will. But sometimes I think it can also make life easier. Being famous means getting what you want, fewer problems. I do often wonder what life must be like for people like Zarah Shah. Living in a mansion, getting dresses sent, no worries about cash flow…’

‘Being famous means different problems, not fewer.’ He was worried because he cared so much it felt like his chest was caving in.

And caring? Perilous territory for a man like him.

Gennie leaned back in her chair and eyed him as he fiddled with his spoon, the remains of their shared sticky toffee pudding scattered across the plate.

‘So then,’ her voice was probing, ‘are you gonna tell me more about this huge scandal of yours, or do I have to start grilling you like the chicken you just had?’