The days were flying by. Yesterday they’d been kayaking, which had been awesome until they’d fallen in. The look on Ben’s face as she’d turned round to look at him too quickly would be forever etched in her memory. Not horror, or anger, or even surprise. Oh no, he’d stared at her with a kind of tender resignation. Like he’d absolutely expected them to end up in the lake. Something that had become clear when Marcus had come over to them afterwards and laughingly handed Ben a ten-pound note.
‘You bet Marcus we’d capsize?’ She’d asked, part impressed, part insulted.
He’d given her a wry smile. ‘You and me, in a boat. Did you really think there’d be any other outcome?’
She’d not been able to contradict him, because that’s who they were. Mismatched, some of the viewers had commented. A couple who rubbed each other the wrong way. It was why there were always a steady number of votes to split them up. Yet the threshold hadn’t been reached, because there were an equal number of viewers who saw what she felt. When they rubbed together, the sparks, the chemistry … it was phenomenal. Addictive. They could be arguing one minute, but the next he would have her pinned to the wall, her legs wrapped around his waist, his mouth attacking hers.
Apparently, their heated interaction in the hallway the other day had sent viewing figures soaring.
Molly wondered what those viewers would think if they knew how much hotter things got behind closed doors.
Yet despite the clamour for more steamy moments, the production team had decided the voting pattern was sufficient to warrant shaking their pairing up and teaming her with Duncan to do the maze this morning. She couldn’t even blame them, because if she’d been a viewer, she’d definitely have voted to put the other two ex-lovers together. See whether there were still sparks between them.
‘Have you and Ben talked about your wedding then?’ Duncan asked as they made their way along the labyrinth of hedges.
His blue eyes weren’t as bewitching as Ben’s hazel eyes. They didn’t make her so stupidly giddy that she lost herself in them. But they were concerned, caring. They were the same eyes that had helped her through the bleakness of her break up with Ben. ‘He doesn’t want to get married.’
Duncan halted. ‘Whoa. That’s … wow. Why the hell not?’
‘He has his reasons.’ And she thought she understood them. He’d only seen a dark side of marriage. Helena had wanted to marry him so he could look after her, pull her out of her depression.
‘He doesn’t want to marry you, or he doesn’t want to get married?’
‘Doesn’t want to get married.’ Yet if he met someone he absolutely couldn’t image living without, would he be prepared to open his mind to the possibility? I really don’t think I can. It wasn’t a hard no, though maybe it was a hard no for her?
Duncan started walking again, signalling for her to take the left turn. ‘How do you feel about that, babe? You always wanted marriage.’ He smiled sadly. ‘Remember how excited you got when you thought I was proposing that day I told you about the show?’
Embarrassment flooded her. ‘I remember.’ She didn’t feel like the same person she’d been then though. Being on the show had given her a lift, a confidence boost. She’d proven she could handle herself in front of cameras, face whatever task was given her. At the fete, her upcycled clothes had been a huge success, impressing Ben so much he’d promised to help her set up a business.
This Molly felt she was capable of running one.
This Molly was capable of making a man like Ben – confident, smart, drop-dead gorgeous – fall in love with her. And okay, he didn’t want to marry her, but wasn’t the fact that he thought she was worth loving impressive enough?
‘I meant what I said the other day.’ Duncan took her arm and steered her towards the path on the right. ‘It’s not too late. Tell the producers you want to swop to me, and I’ll tell them the same.’ He smiled down at her. ‘We could be one of their success stories, babe. The couple who get married at the end of the series.’
She laughed, remembering how invested they’d been as viewers, desperately hoping at least one of the couples got their happy ever after. Yet as his words settled over her, she remembered their last conversation. ‘You said if I wasn’t going to marry you, you were going to try and work things out with Jasmine.’ She turned to face him. ‘Duncan, do you really want to marry me? Think about that carefully. Not whether you want to get married, but whether you want to live the rest of your life with me.’ Feeling a wave of affection, she touched his cheek. ‘I appreciate the offer, I really do. And the me who joined the show would have jumped at the chance. But this me … I’m not sure if that’s the right way forward anymore. I’m worried we both wanted the marriage, more than we wanted each other?’
His eyebrows crunched together. ‘What do you mean?’
‘You talked about wanting a family, a wife you could support so she could have your kids. Maybe that’s your dream, Duncan. Not marriage to me, but marriage to someone who’ll give you that.’ Raising onto her tiptoes, she pressed a light kiss on his cheek. ‘Let’s talk again, but whatever happens, know that I really care for you, and I’ll be forever grateful to you for loving me at a time when I thought nobody ever would.’ Feeling a ball of emotion rise in her throat, she swallowed it down and pointed behind them. ‘Now, I think we’ve been doing this maze all wrong. We need to go back and take the path on the left.’
He shook his head. ‘Nah, you’re rubbish at directions, remember? Don’t worry, I’ve got this. Let’s keep going.’
She shook her head, experiencing a sudden pang of longing for the man she should have been in the maze with. Ben argued with her, disagreed with her. But he never put her down. ‘You go your way and I’ll go mine. I’ll see you at the exit.’ She smiled. ‘I’ll be the one sitting on the bench, waiting for you.’
* * *
Ben looked down at his towelling robe and sighed, possibly for the hundredth time since they’d arrived at the spa a few hours ago.
What was he doing in a spa? Fuck knows. After lunch they’d been given the opportunity to choose their own date – something about how this would highlight another of the key foundations of marriage, compromise. He couldn’t remember seeing any of that in either his own or his parents’ marriages.
It wasn’t even as if compromise was specific to marriage. It was essential in any relationship. Not that he’d needed to compromise today though. The moment Natalie had mentioned the option of an afternoon at a spa, Molly’s eyes had lit up so much, agreeing to it had been a no-brainer. He’d even gone along with ‘the mud thing’, and the massage. His exact words had been ‘I’ll do anything, as long as I don’t have to spend the day in white towelling.’
His capitulation might have had something to do with the anguish of seeing her walk off with Duncan to the blasted maze a few hours earlier. Or the relief when he’d watched her come out without the man.
Or maybe he just loved seeing her happy.
The thought buzzed around his brain, causing a few sparks in his subconscious, but those sparks died when he realised he wouldn’t be making her happy in a few days’ time. Not when he turned her down at the altar.
‘It isn’t white.’
Molly gave him a cute smile, the one where she was trying not to laugh but her eyes were so bright it was impossible for him not to know how amused she was.
‘It’s a robe.’ There had been a choice of white or brown – mink, the lady had said, as if it helped. ‘You’ve got me sitting here in a robe, waiting to have a facial, having just had a salt body scrub.’ He might as well cut off his balls and hand them to her.
‘But just look how sexy you are.’ Her gaze travelled the length of him and he couldn’t lie, his ego swelled at the appreciation in it. ‘You’ve got all the women going ga-ga over you.’
‘Most of the women here are twice my age,’ he pointed out. Three years ago he would have left it at that, assuming what he was about to say next was obvious. Now he was learning to state the obvious. ‘And you’re the only one whose opinion matters.’
Her expression turned soft, and he was fast discovering there was a tremendous satisfaction in knowing that sometimes he got his words right.
She reached across her lounger – yes, they weren’t just in twin robes, they were sitting side by side on ruddy loungers – and whispered. ‘I think you look sexy.’
It wasn’t the glimpse of her cleavage, or even the husk of her voice. It was the promise in her eyes that had him finding his trunks embarrassingly tight. ‘That’s nothing to how sexy you look, but we need to change the subject.’
She gave him a smile that was part siren, part I’m about to giggle. Unable to help himself, he put his hands on either side of her face and gave her a brief but thorough kiss before gently pushing her back on her lounger. ‘What’s after the facial?’
‘We’ve got our couple’s massages.’ An image of a naked Molly spread out on a table flashed across his mind. Not helping. But then she picked up the leaflet they’d been given when they arrived and started to read it. ‘I still don’t know whether we should go for the hot rocks, or a clay wrap, or just a full body massage. And we need to decide Swedish or Shiatsu, Thai or deep tissue. Or we could do an aromatherapy massage.’ She let out a long, delighted sigh. ‘So many decisions. And after that, we have pedicures.’
And now his libido was back under control. ‘I’ll do hot rocks, clay, Swedish, whatever. But I’m drawing the line at a pedicure.’
She wriggled her toes, which should not look as sexy as they did. ‘Don’t you want to give your feet a treat?’
‘No. However, I do plan on enjoying your primped and polished feet later.’
She giggled, but any further conversation was interrupted as they were escorted by a staff member to the treatment room. There they were shown two tables swathed in towels and asked to lie down. He’d just climbed onto his when there was a knock on the door. His stomach hurtled south as his sister stepped inside, the camera crew in tow.
He was never going to live this down.
‘Getting ready for your facials, I see.’ Rachel struggled to school her expression into one of consummate professional, and not of smirking younger sister about to see her brother exfoliated. ‘Are you having fun?’
‘So much fun,’ Molly answered, leaning back on her elbows on the massage table, beaming smile firmly in place. She was like a kid who’d been told she could spend the day in a sweet shop and eat everything she saw.
‘And you, Ben?’ Rachel’s mouth started to twitch.
He gave her a hard stare. ‘About as much fun as you’d expect.’
‘Well, don’t mind the camera crew. They’ll keep out of the way. You just lie back and … err … enjoy.’ And now his sister was biting the inside of her cheek, her eyes bursting with silent laughter.
‘Oh we will,’ Molly replied as he reluctantly got into the supine position beside her. ‘Just think, our faces are going to be like a pair of babies’ bums after this.’
It was clearly too much for Rachel. She let out a huge roar of laughter, before slapping a hand over her mouth. ‘Oh shit, sorry. It’s just, seeing Ben … no, never mind … ignore me.’ Fighting more laughter, she waved towards the two women therapists. ‘Start whenever you’re ready.’
One of them began to waffle on about cleansing, exfoliation, massage, creams, steaming and … a face mask? He was going to get a fucking face mask?
‘What have you got me into?’ He hissed under his breath at Molly.
She smiled sweetly. ‘You’ll thank me later when we’re all exfoliated and polished. And relaxed, so very, very relaxed.’ She winked. ‘And maybe a bit sleepy, too. So sleepy we might have to go to bed early.’
Immediately the thought of his sister sniggering in the corner, of the cameras watching him have God knows what done to his face, became minor irritations. Yet as he anticipated his evening, lurking in the back of his mind, encroaching too near to be dismissed, was the knowledge his time with Molly was soon going to come to a crashing end.