27. Twenty-Seven

Twenty-Seven

L ucy's words ring in my ears as we cross the well-tended gardens in the sultry Spanish sunshine to the noisiest of the hotel's four swimming pools.

The pool area is filled with semi-naked bodies frolicking and shrieking against a backdrop of a dance tune blaring out from DJ decks set up on the far side of the pool. The men are all muscly and sporting brightly coloured swim shorts as they chat up women or splash about in the pool. The women are split into two groups; they're either working very hard to act demure – perched on the side of the pool, trying not to get wet – or they're dancing to try and attract male attention, wearing very revealing swimwear. Neither activity appeals to me.

Lucy shoves a glass of champagne in my hand before I can say no. "Have a drink and enjoy yourself."

I take a swig of the fizzy liquid and watch as her eyes light up at the sound of her phone beeping yet again.

"Ooh, it's Steve." She beams, and then I watch as her face falls. "Oh my God."

"What?"

Her eyes widen with shock and lift to mine. "He says he likes my bikini."

I frown as the meaning behind the words sinks in. "How can he possibly know what you're wearing?"

She spins round, her eyes scanning the pool area. "Because he's here."

"This doesn't make sense. How can he be here? How does he even know which hotel we're staying in?"

"He asked me the name of the hotel when he texted me first thing this morning. He's here. In Ibiza. In this hotel."

If she's right, then Big Steve has clearly got it bad, and I can't help but tease her. "This is so romantic. He's flown out here to come and see you."

Her eyes hone in on something across the pool, and she gasps. "There he is."

I follow her gaze. Amid the gyrating bodies stands the large, recognisable unit that is Big Steve, dressed in smart black shorts and a white T-shirt so tight that his biceps look set to pop.

Bloody hell. He has got it bad.

She frantically waves at him. "Shit! I'm nervous. Do I look okay?"

I can't help but laugh. Nothing ever normally fazes her.

"You look good."

She stops waving, hand paused in mid-air. "Oh my God!"

Big Steve hasn't moved, but a familiar figure has joined him. I'm sure my heart stops beating, and for a moment, I think I'm seeing things. Art stands across the pool from me. A tight black T-shirt clings to his body, and tan chino shorts encase his firm thighs.

Why does he always have to look so good? It makes everything so much more difficult.

" This is romantic," Lucy pipes up. "Art's travelled across several countries to track down the woman he loves."

The two men exchange words and begin to weave through the revellers around the pool towards us. Art focuses on me as he approaches, and his lips are set into a hard line.

My pulse thuds in my ears as reality begins to sink in. He's come for me. So much for thinking I'd have time and space away from him for a while. I knock back my champagne in one mouthful, and my head swims with a tumble of emotions as I try to work out how I feel. I'd imagine he's incredibly pissed off. On top of the fact that I ran off – which he really didn't want me to do – the last time I saw him, I kneed him in the balls. I'm preparing myself for another fight.

As Big Steve and Art move closer, a leggy blonde flings her arms around his neck, and jealousy instantly stabs at my gut. I watch with a fizzle of pride as he deftly pulls her off him, squashing her advances, and carries on, heading my way.

As the two men reach us, an awkward pause descends for two very different reasons.

Art looks me over, and I instantly know he hates the bikini I'm wearing because I'm showing too much flesh, but there are more important things to argue about right now.

I fold my arms and give him a determined look. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to fetch what's mine."

Dark eyes hold mine. I press my lips together to suppress the shiver running down my spine, even in this thirty-degree heat.

"Maybe you two should go and talk," Big Steve suggests, looking from me to Art. "Lucy and I can stay here and have a chat."

She flutters her eyelashes and beams at his suggestion. "Yes," she agrees, barely able to tear her eyes away from him. "We'll stay here. You two go up to the room."

"Good idea," Art replies.