Chapter Ten
Violet
I clearly didn’t think this through.
I heave the massive wicker picnic hamper that Mum’s had for about ten years out of the car, and by the time I arrive at the park, I’m already limp with the heat. Not quite the impression I’d been planning. I didn’t want it to rain today, but it’s so humid, and I wipe my hair back from my damp face as I make my way across the expanse of grass, in the general direction of the duck pond.
Even though it’s almost midday, the park isn’t too crowded, mainly because the kids haven’t broken up from school yet. I collapse in the shade of an ancient tree and text Lucas directions.
He replies within about five seconds.
Before I unload the hamper, I check my reflection in my makeup mirror. My cheeks are flushed, and not in a good way, and patting them with tissues doesn’t exactly help. It’s hardly the sexy look I want to present when all I can think about is taking things with Lucas to the next level.
I’m not even sure how to ask him. With Geoff it was different. He kept the pressure up right from the first time we dated, although it was a few months until things just kind of escalated one night.
Too late to worry about it now. I can always practice my rusty seduction technique on him another time, when I’m not wilting.
At least my mascara hasn’t melted and given me the raccoon look.
…
Lucas
Violet’s sitting on a blanket in the shade of an oak, with a big floppy hat on her head and cut off shorts showing off her gorgeous legs. It’s only been a few days since we last saw each other, but it’s crazy how much I’ve missed her. Even the partying at Hydra couldn’t shift her from my mind.
I’m almost by her side before she swings around and sees me.
“Oh, hi.” Her voice is breathless—or is that my imagination? I can’t see her eyes as she’s wearing huge shades, but her cheeks are pink and lips glossy. Get your mind out of the gutter, Carter. “I thought you’d be coming from the other end of the park.”
“I didn’t bring the car. I walked.” Parking is a nightmare round here, and it’s only a twenty-minute stroll from home.
She curls her legs under her, and I catch sight of the monster-size picnic basket next to her. “You should’ve got me to meet you at your car. I would’ve carried that.”
“This is my treat, remember? Anyway, it’s not as heavy as it looks.” She smooths a few nonexistent wrinkles on the blanket with her hand. “I hope you’re hungry.”
“You bet.” I sit next to her, although not as close as I’d like. “I brought something to drink.” I place the bag with a bottle of pink sparkling wine and a couple of outdoor glasses between us.
She peeks into the bag. “You didn’t have to do that, but thanks. I made fruit slushies, but this looks better.”
“I like the sound of the fruit slushies.”
She smiles at me before kneeling and opening the basket. “I wasn’t sure if you’d think this was a dumb idea.”
I take the plates and napkins from her and place them on the blanket. “This is great. I’ve not been on a picnic in years.”
“Me, neither. I thought it’d be a bit different. Something to remember.”
“No chance of me forgetting this.”
“That could be taken more than one way.” She hands me a crusty French stick and bread knife. “At least it’s not raining.”
Instead of the variety of delicatessen-bought dishes I was expecting, she takes out several sealed containers of what looks like homemade food, which sends a warm glow through my chest. No girl has ever done anything like this for me before. As she arranges them on the blanket, I open the wine and pour us both a glass.
“Cheers.” I clink her glass, and she takes a small sip. She closes her eyes and savors every drop, and I’m so fascinated by the way the tip of her tongue slides across her lips, I forget to drink any myself.
“Happy belated birthday,” she says. “We’ve got pasta salad, and watercress, beetroot, and nasturtium salad, and some cold meats. Hope you like it.”
I pull the lid off a couple of containers. “Looks good.” I pile up my plate and dig in. “Tastes really good.”
“There’s, um, a pork pie if you want one.”
I’m not sure why she says it as though that’s something bad. “Sure. I love pork pies.” I love most food, and since it’s off-season, I can stuff my face today without getting a bollocking from the coaching staff.
Even though we’re in a public park, it’s strangely intimate sitting on a blanket sharing a picnic with Violet. Her salads are amazing, and the fruit slushie is weirdly addictive, and no one interrupts us for a selfie or autograph.
I could get used to this.
When we’ve finished, she dives into the basket again and brings out a small glass dish of sliced strawberries, four scones, a pot of clotted cream and miniature pot of jam.
“You thought of everything.”
“I did try and fit a pot of tea in there, but no luck.” She grins at me. “Fresh scones, baked this morning. I didn’t make the jam, though.”
I have three of the scones while she nibbles her way through one. “Any time you want to feed me again, just let me know.”
“I very nearly didn’t give you that invite.”
“Why not?”
She shrugs and avoids looking at me as she packs away her little pots. “I don’t know. It seemed like a good idea, and then I wasn’t sure, but I couldn’t think of anything to get you.”
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Hmm.” She hugs her knees, and I stretch out beside her, propping myself up on my forearm. “Well, I always give my friends something for their birthday.”
Now isn’t the time to ask her, but my gut feeling is she wants more, and if I’m wrong, I need to know. “Is that all we’ll ever be? Friends?”
She doesn’t answer straight away, and I can’t believe how hard I want her to say, No, we’re so much more.
“I don’t know.” She hesitates before resting her cheek on her knees, and I guess she’s looking at me, even though she’s still wearing her shades. “Being friends isn’t bad.”
She’s killing me. “You’re so good for my ego.”
She gives a small smile. “I think your ego’s all hype.”
“I’m just putting it out there, Violet. It’s your call.”
“You mean…something like a summer fling?”
I want more, but I’ve never thought that far ahead before. Except now, when I think about Harry and Alice and know that’s what I want. With Violet?
Why not? She’s the first girl who’s ever made me think of stuff like that.
“If you want.”
“Hmm,” she says again, like she’s thinking about it. I trace my finger over her knuckles, and such a brief touch shouldn’t be electrifying, but nothing’s usual when it comes to Violet.
There’s nothing I want more than to take her to bed, but if she’s not ready, I’m not rushing her. She’ll see not all players are the same.
“No strings.”
Her fingers twitch beneath mine, and she takes a deep breath. “No strings.”
I shift closer. “Does this mean I can kiss you?’
Some of the tension seeps from her. “Thought you’d never ask.”
“If I’d asked the day we met, you would’ve said yes?” I tug on her hand, and she inches toward me but doesn’t take the hint and lie next to me.
“I would’ve said no. I didn’t know you then.”
“Good answer.” I push myself onto my knees, so we’re facing each other, and gently pull her sunglasses off so I can see her eyes. It’s not even been a month yet since I first met her, but it’s the longest time I’ve ever waited to kiss a girl I wanted. Don’t fuck this up.
Her lips are soft and sexy, and raw need burns through me, diving straight to my dick. I want to slide my tongue inside her mouth and taste her. Don’t rush this.
Her fingers tangle in my hair, and I groan. The temptation is great to break my promise already, but instead I cradle her face with one hand and wind my other arm around her waist.
She sinks against me, soft and willing, her fingers exploring the back of my neck and shoulders.
We break for air, panting, and her satisfied grin makes me laugh. “That was worth waiting three weeks and five days for.”
“Well, I’m so relieved it wasn’t a disappointment.” She scores her nails across my shoulders, and I give a fake shudder.
“No chance of that.” I shift position so I’m no longer on my knees and tug her with me so we’re sitting next to each other.
“Is your knee okay?” She sounds concerned, and lightly traces the scars with the tip of her finger. “Does it hurt a lot?”
“No, it’s fine.” An odd glow heats my chest that she made the connection between my injury and why I moved. And if she noticed that, why don’t I tell her the truth? “Most of the time. Guess I’ve got used to favoring that knee, but it’s as back to normal now as it’ll ever be.”
“That’s good. I can’t imagine how you must feel, not being able to play. I’d hate it if I had to give up my designing.”
“It was brutal at the beginning of the year when we didn’t know if I’d screwed it up for good.” That’s a tactful way of saying, on the outside I wore my usual Carter the party animal face, while inside I was losing my mind.
“I bet you’re upset you had to miss the tour.”
“What, and miss this picnic with you?” I thread my fingers through hers and give her a mocking smile.
She scoffs, clearly not believing my bullshit. “Yeah, right.”
“If I’d been on tour, we could’ve done this yesterday.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “Okay, now that I believe.”
“And when I got back, I’d take you anywhere you wanted.”
“But since you didn’t go, that offer’s not on the table?”
“Try me.”
“Anywhere?” She sounds like she’s trying not to laugh.
“Hypothetically.”
“In that case, I’ve always wanted to do a grand tour of Europe. You know, visit Versailles and all the grand palaces. Oh, and I’ve always wanted to go to the Forbidden City. How amazing would that be?”
“It’s amazing,” I agree. “I went there as a kid with my family. Spent most of the time counting how many dragons I could find.”
I expect her to laugh, but instead she looks intrigued. “I love dragons. That must’ve been so cool, to search for them in the architecture and furnishings.”
It’s the first time anyone’s said that to me. They’re usually mock horrified by my apparent philistine attitude. My parents were bemused by my game, when we were surrounded by such an abundance of rich historical culture, but even at the age of ten I knew my limitations.
Harry was the bright twin. I was the comic relief.
“It was.” I’d even enjoyed the history Mum had been at pains to explain to us, although a week later I’d forgotten most of it. At least, that’d been my excuse when she’d tried discussing our trip with me. It was too much like hard work, especially when Harry knew all the answers without even breaking a sweat.
I could’ve tried harder. Yeah, hindsight is such an unforgiving bitch. I’ll always regret not pushing myself the way Mum wanted me to, but sport was the only subject at school I was any good at.
No idea where that gene came from. The only sport my parents enjoyed was golf.
“I’ll get there one day,” Violet says. “It’s on my bucket list. I mean, ruins are great, don’t get me wrong, but I’d rather visit places that are still standing.”
I force the memories to the back of my mind. There’s no point wishing for a second chance to make things right. And even if that were possible, I couldn’t change anything. I’d always be the anomaly in a family that discussed philosophy and ethics first thing in the morning as an accompaniment to Italian coffee and French croissants.
“Ruins?”
“Dad’s a builder, and he loves all the Roman ruins. We’d go on holiday to Rome to see the Coliseum but never made it to the Palazzo Colonna. My bucket list of places to visit is very long.”
“You never know. We might go visit them together one day.” And if I’m based in Spain, it’ll be even easier. Violet could fly over and stay with me for an extended holiday.
Shame I can’t share that possibility with her, but in a week or so the deal will be common knowledge.
If I pass my medical.
For the next couple of hours, we explore the park, hand in hand, with me carrying the basket even though she tried to take it from me. She barely reaches my shoulder, her gorgeous hair frames her face beneath the brim of her hat, and she hasn’t checked her makeup once.
“Oh,” she sighs, as we approach the deer park. “They’re so gorgeous. Such big, sad eyes.”
“You could always adopt one.”
“I might just do that.” She goes up on her toes and brushes a kiss on my lips. It’s sexy and tender, and I tug her close, enjoying the moment. I don’t remember the last time I spent the afternoon with a girl when we weren’t hounded by the press.
Then again, I’ve never done anything like this before. Thank fuck the paparazzi don’t hang out in local parks and are more focused on the team leaving for Hong Kong today than on stalking me. I don’t want Violet splashed across the gossip columns when she’s only just agreed to go out with me.
Should I warn her what might happen? I’ve never faced that question before because most of the time the girls on my arm live for the camera and exposure.
I’ve a feeling that conversation comes under the Don’t Fuck This Up banner. Plenty of time to talk about shit like that another day.
Although I want to spend the rest of the day with her, I’ve an appointment with my agent later this afternoon, as she wants to discuss my image rights ownership and the possibility of setting up my own image company. And tonight I’m flying to Scotland, where I’ve a photo-shoot tomorrow for a Christmas ad. I’ll probably have to stride across the heather wearing nothing but boxer briefs and a pair of boots.
And Friday, after seeing the doctors, I’ll know if my career’s back on track.