Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart

Chapter Twelve

PERRY

By six o’clock everybody’s left not just for the day, but for the weekend. It’s been a busy week, more so than normal, and I’m wondering what to cook for dinner. James and I haven’t shared many meals together, mostly because of his work commitments, but when his eyes light up and he gives me an appreciative smile, I can’t help the warmth that uncoils in my stomach.

Like last night.

Chatting in the kitchen, James back early for once, it felt homely, domestic, and settled. It’s a side of James I didn’t know before. It’s a lot more serious and caring, so different to the flirty and coolly arrogant man who visited Elliot. I liked that man, I liked him very much, but I like this version of James more.

I lean back in my chair, turning it from side to side as I look out over the empty outer office.

I’d surprised myself that I told him something about my idea for the patisserie and cake business, which I’m only just sorting out in my own head. It still feels like such a fragile idea, but James is so easy to talk to that telling him seemed to be the natural thing to do. He makes me feel safe and secure but then he would, I suppose, because after all he rescued me. I huff and shake my head. Twenty-five year old men really shouldn’t need saving.

Safe and secure are the last things I should be getting used to. Leaving my good job with Elliot to set up a business is a risky venture. But, it’s not just a business I’m planning, but a whole change of life, because I want to do all this down in Brighton on the South coast.

I didn’t tell him that last part, and I’m not exactly sure why.

“Perry? Are you all right?” Elliot’s standing in the doorway to his office, a slight frown on his face as he peers at me.

“Erm, yes, I’m fine. Just thinking about things I need to do this weekend.”

“Then you should go off and do them. There’s nothing pressing that needs you to be here at this time on a Friday,” Elliot says, shrugging into his coat.

He’s smiling at me yet I recognise an order when I hear one. Elliot’s orders are always cloaked in soft velvet.

“Nothing urgent, like you say.” I switch off my computer and stand up. A ringing phone cuts through the silent office and I look to see where it’s coming from, so I can dash to answer, but Elliot’s already pulling his mobile from his pocket, a big smile on his face. I know who it is.

“Hello, sweetheart.”

Elliot throws a quick glance at me. He’s gone a little red and his mouth curls up in a sheepish smile, as he turns aside and talks to Freddie, his fiancé. Elliot’s voice is low, but I can’t help but catch the talk about drinks and dinner out somewhere as I get ready to leave. A date night. Drinks and dinner, Elliot and Freddie wrapped up in each other. It’s lovely, I’m happy for these two good and decent people, but Elliot’s voice, soft as he speaks to Freddie, leaves me feeling emptier than I have in a long, long time.

Ending his call, Elliot’s bidding me good night, and he’s gone, leaving me alone in the office. I’m about to leave when the phone on my desk rings, and I pick it up without thinking.

“Elliot Hendrick’s office,” I say, as my hand automatically reaches out to restart my computer.

“I was right, you are still at work.” The voice, the deep purr of a classic car, sends shivers across my skin. Down the telephone line, James chuckles. “If Elliot’s going to have you working at gone six on a Friday, you need to put in for a pay rise.”

“He told me to go, so I’m just leaving.”

“Good, because that means you can meet me at The Breaker’s Yard. There’ll be a glass of something chilled and white waiting for you in five minutes.”

The empty place in my chest begins to fill. My day has just got a whole lot better.

* * *

I spot James as soon as I push open the door to the pub. God, but he looks good. Suited and booted, sharp and clean cut, a silver fox fantasy in classic Saville Row. Is it any wonder I’ve harboured a crush on him since the first day I set eyes on him? There’s no denying James is very… crushable.

In truth it makes me feel a bit silly, because crushes are only for teenagers. Allegedly. Perhaps I should call it an infatuation instead. Hmm, no, perhaps not, because that makes me sound like some kind of stalker.

Lounging back in his seat, I’m struck once again by his ease and self-assurance. It’s magnetic, and I’m not the only one who recognises that, because the guy James is talking to is focused completely, one hundred percent on him. The guy’s so tall and muscular, he could’ve stepped out of a fitness magazine. He’s smiling as he runs his fingers through his hair, flirting for all he’s worth, and James is smiling up at him and something cold and heavy settles in the pit of my stomach. Jealousy, as hard and unmissable as a punch in the face.

But what’s the point of jealousy? A man like James won’t look at a man like me…not seriously… we’ve become friends, but that’s all…

James says something to the man and they both turn to look at me. My heart lurches. I’ve been standing here gawping because I didn’t think they’d seen me, that I’d been as invisible as I always am.

Mr. Muscles doesn’t look happy, but James’ smile is wide and bright but also softer. Even across the busy pub, it’s impossible not to know that he’s looking at me and only me, as though there’s not a soul around. A bump and a muttered apology shakes me out of my trance. The hubbub rushes in and breaks the spell. Mr. Muscles has gone, leaving James alone at the table where he’s waiting for me.

“New Zealand sauvignon blanc.” He edges the glass across as I sit down opposite him. “That’s right, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. Thank you.” I take a sip, swallowing down the wine as I swallow down the urge to ask who the guy was.

“How was work? I hope Elliot’s not been giving you a hard time and keeping you chained to your desk?” He smiles at me over the rim of his glass, mischief shining in his eyes. I shake my head, and laugh.

“No, that’s not his style. I mean that’s not to say he doesn’t expect me to work hard because he does, but I enjoy working for him.”

“I’ve not seen him for a while, I really must get in touch.”

“He’s gone to meet Freddie this evening. A date night, by the sound of it.” Despondency creeps into my voice.

“Oh?” James quirks his brows in response, looking at me as though he’s waiting for me to elaborate. I swallow the groan. Elliot’s my boss, but he’s also James’ best friend. I’m wondering what to say, when James throws me a lifeline.

“Was Elliot getting all moony? And by that, of course, I don’t mean was he showing you his naked arse.”

Thank God I’ve not got a mouthful of wine, because I’d be spraying it all over James.

“No,” I splutter. “They were just having that couply kind of conversation.” I sip my drink and look out over the busy pub. Couply conversations. Date nights. What to do together over the weekend. Deciding on trips away… All the things people do in happy, settled relationships.

“Ah, the couply thing. I think if awards were handed out for coupledom, they’d be getting one with a big pink bow tied to it. It’s the road they’ve taken and I know their journey will be smooth and strewn with rose petals, but for me it was scattered with rocks, pot holes and more than a few landmines.”

I start. I’m not totally surprised by what he’s said, but more the fact that he’s said it, and to me. It’s the first piece of truly personal information he’s given me.

“It didn’t really work for me, either.” The car crash that was Grant, but he wasn’t the first, not really. Boyfriends who made it clear they weren’t interested in much after the first few fucks.

“Not yet, but I’m sure it will. I think being settled and living in a nice house with a white picket fence will suit you. No doubt you’ll have a dog, too, that wears one of those tartan coats.”

“You’re taking the piss,” I grumble, but I rather like the picture he’s painted.

James laughs. “Just a little. Some are cut out for that kind of life. For those who aren’t, try though they might, they’re ultimately doomed to failure.”

His brow creases and he takes a slug from his glass. He looks over the rim at me, meeting my eyes and seeing no doubt the million questions I’ve got about what’s put him on the rock-strewn path. James sighs and puts down his glass.

“There’s no reason not to tell you, because it’s no big secret.”

“You don’t have to tell me anything.” But I hope you will…

“I know, but I want to. But first, we’ll have another drink.” He jumps up and weaves his way to the bar, leaving me hanging on the cliff edge.

The place is getting busy, and it takes him a little while to get served. I watch him as he laughs and chats with other customers, drawing long, admiring looks. He could have any man he wants in this place.

But it’ll never be me…

Fuck it. I really need to stop thinking like this. I’m tired, it’s been a long week, I’ve got a lot on my mind. That’s all it is and, anyway, he’s just as good as said he steers clear of coupledom.

As soon as he’s back in his seat, James doesn’t waste any time.

“I was with somebody for four years. I was in my mid-thirties, so I don’t have the excuse of having been too young to have tried the whole settling down thing. We lived together. Alex was — is — his name. He was lovely. Kind, gentle, thoughtful. It was impossible not to love him—”

“And did you?” I burst out, unable to stop the words flying out of my mouth. Mortification grabs me by the throat. “I am so sorry, that was…”

James gives a half shrug. “Yes, I did. The problem was I didn’t love him enough. That’s what he said, when we finally split up, and he was right. Everything was great, at first, being the loving and committed couple but the novelty wore off. For me.”

Oh. I know what’s coming and James’ lips twist in a small, humourless smile.

“Other men. Temptation, lots of temptation I didn’t try very hard to resist. We tried to mend what had been damaged, what I’d damaged, because the fault was all mine. We even went for couple’s counselling.”

He barks out a hard laugh, and takes a slug of his drink.

“It was a waste of time, because I knew what the issue was. It was as though I was condemning myself to eating the same meal at the same time every single day, when all I really wanted was the never ending choice of a constantly changing smorgasbord. Which is just another way of saying that I didn’t want to tie myself down to one man. Who in their right mind would put up with that? Not Alex, not in the end. When we split up, I made my share of the house we’d bought together over to him. It felt like the right thing to do. I walked away with nothing.”

James’ lips set in a straight line, his eyes darker somehow, and guarded. It’s as though he’s pulled on a mask. It’s impossible to know what he’s thinking, but those last words… They resonate with something that sounds like sadness.

He smiles, that crooked smile that’s so typically James, bringing the life back to his features.

“It’s not an untypical story, I don’t think. Two people who want different things from life. I like to claim it’s hereditary. My grandfather had a whole separate family. My parents, before they died, remained married but both had always been serial adulterers, and my brother makes no secret of his numerous affairs and the resultant offspring. At least that isn’t an issue for me.” He tilts his head and gazes at me, one brow cocked. “Do you think I’m a complete and utter bastard, or just a common and garden, plain and simple one?”

“You’re truthful at least, which is something. You’re clear about what you do and what you don’t want. I suppose anybody you got involved with would know where they stood.”

He huffs, or kind of, which I take to be confirmation. He’s right about it being a common enough story, but something heavy and dull seems to settle in my stomach.

“What happened to him? To Alex?” The need to know what became of the man James didn’t love enough claws at me.

“Oh, he found the life and the happiness he’d never have got from me. He’s been married for a few years, now, and the last I heard he and his husband were living in a French farmhouse growing grapes and raising chickens. Or goats. Well, some species of smelly animal.”

It’s a nice image, but I keep that to myself. I open my mouth to say something, but whatever it is it’s knocked out of me as I gasp and lunge forward over the table, spilling most of my drink. Twisting around, there’s a beefy guy standing behind me. Clutching a pint, he’s swaying and slopping most of it over the side. He’s plastered.

“Watch what you’re doing, you idiot.” James’ voice, which is more of a growl, is hard and menacing, and my attention darts back to him. His eyes are narrowed slits. Cold and dangerous, they’re fixed on the guy who’s staggered into me.

“It was an accident, s’all. No need to get narky.” The guy’s slurring slightly. His eyes slide to me, and he grins. “Sorry gorgeous.” He slaps his hand hard on my shoulder, almost pushing me face down on the table.

“Get off—” I try to shake him off, but his meaty paw’s heavy.

“Take your hand off him. Now.”

James’ voice, clear, clipped, each word so sharp it could draw blood.

The drunk’s hand jerks off my shoulder, and he stumbles back a step.

James is sitting up ramrod straight, not a muscle moving. Tense and coiled, he’s ready to spring into action in a heartbeat.

My heart thunders in my chest, and I look from James, still and icy calm, then back to the drunk.

The guy’s in danger, and he knows it even though he’s pissed. Something’s pierced the beer haze and he’s wondering what to do and how to save face. The small group of men he’s with stop talking and they’re looking between us, at this quiet little stand-off. The drunk grins but it’s more like a grimace, as he takes another step back and holds up the hand not clutching what’s left of his pint.

“Sorry. An accident, okay?”

James smiles, as warm as an iceberg, and the guy mumbles another sorry as he turns round to his mates. As one, they move away a few paces.

“Are you okay?” James asks, turning his attention back to me, his eyes full of concern.

“Yes, I’m fine. And thank you.” I resist the urge to rub my shoulder. The guy had squeezed hard.

For a second James doesn’t say anything as he keeps his gaze fixed on me, before he nods and carries on drinking. I’m thankful the situation didn’t escalate. James closed the guy down with a few clipped words, icy enough to freeze over the Sahara.

“Bloody hell,” he mutters as his phone rings. “Sorry, I have to take this then I’ll close the damn thing down.”

As James gets caught up in his call, I cast surreptitious glances his way. The pub’s noisy and he’s speaking low and fast. I can’t hear him but it’s not his conversation I’m thinking about, but the fact that he’s rescued me again. I shift around in my seat and finish what’s left of my drink, doing my best to ignore that James’ controlled display of top dog was totally alpha, and kind of hot.

Fuck. I really, really, really can’t start thinking along those lines, and especially not after what he’s told me.

“Earth to Perry.”

“What? Sorry?”

James is giving me his narrow-eyed, crooked smile, the one that always makes me think he has a secret.

“I said, shall we get out of here? Maybe head somewhere a bit quieter?”

The bar’s got busier and making our way out is like wading through treacle. James is behind me, and I’m convinced my gasp can be heard over the din when his breath wafts against my ear.

“I’ve not eaten much today and I’m starving.” He places a hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crush. A shiver runs through me but this isn’t a touch I want to ease out of. He’s not the only one who’s starving. I am too, but it’s not for food.

Oh, God… Everything he’s told me, it should be a clanging, deafening alarm, but just the feel of his hand through my jacket and shirt, is enough to set my pulse racing.

“There’s a really good Indian place just off one of the smaller side streets. The curries are light and fragrant, with not an oily vindaloo in sight. What do you reckon?” he says, just as we emerge onto the street. He’s smiling and there’s a kind of anticipation in his eyes, like he’s hoping I’ll say yes.

Of course I do.

“That’d be great.” My stomach rumbles its assent. “But this is my treat, okay?”

“But you cooked yesterday. Most days, actually.”

“That’s not the point.” And it isn’t. James is charging me a token rent, and we both know it, so if I can pay for dinner then I will. I hold James’ gaze, determined not to back down.

James’ smile turns deliciously wolfish.

“Are you offering to buy me dinner, Mr Buckland? I don’t put out that easily, you know.”

It’s the second time this evening he’s made me gasp.

“No, that’s not why…”

James’ answering deep chuckle tumbles down my spine.

“I was only teasing. You should know that’s what I do. And as for putting out, it takes a side dish of aloo gobi and a naan for that to happen.”

He strides off and I dart after him.

Aloo gobi and naan… Maybe I should add them to the shopping list…