Chapter 8 Titus

• I nod. “I’ve been working with the Royal Astronomical Society, using artificial intelligence to search for exoplanets by studying the variation of a star’s brightness over time.”
• “Jesus. I look at the moon through a very cheap telescope. It’s not quite the same thing.”
• I chuckle. “Even so, it’s cool to know you’re interested in it.”
• “I’ll show you my observatory in a minute.” Her eyes twinkle. “So, can you take a few days off?”
• I study her, slightly taken aback. There’s no reason I can’t cancel the meetings—I’ve already attended the most important ones, and the conference was something I signed up for to fill in time. But is that what I want? To stay here, in Heidi’s tiny cottage, and spend a few days doing nothing but pottering around Devon, looking at the sites?
• I discover that actually, yes, it sounds like something I very much want to do. But there is a problem.
• Asking her to go with me for the weekend was one thing—I’d have asked the same of Huxley’s other sisters if they were the only person I knew in another country. But staying in her house… spending time alone…
• The thing is, I like her. A lot. She’s young and sexy, and I have a sneaky feeling she likes me too. I think we could have had a lot of fun together. If she wasn’t related to my best mate.
• “I don’t know,” I say softly. “You’re Huxley’s kid sister, and you’re recovering from a bad breakup. The last thing you need is… complications.”
• She meets my eyes, and we study each other for a moment.
• “Just to make things clear,” she says, “sex isn’t on the table.”
• My eyebrows rise. “Right.”
• “Or on the bed or the floor or anywhere else in this extremely small cottage.”
• That makes me laugh. “Okay.”
• “We aren’t going to do anything that involves removal of clothing.”
• “Got it.”
• “We’re friends, aren’t we?” she adds.
• “Of course.”
• “And I’d like it to stay that way.”
• “Definitely.”
• “I didn’t want you worrying,” she says. “It’s always best to be direct.”
• “Absolutely.”
• “We’re grownups, right? We can spend time together without getting involved. Even though we’re attracted to one another.”
• “You’re attracted to me?”
• “Um… no…?”
• We both laugh. “You’re right,” I tell her, trying not to think about her admission. “Best to be open.”
• I think I can see a glimmer of hope in her eyes, and it occurs to me then that she might be glad of my presence here because it’ll be some protection for her if her ex comes knocking again. Not that she can’t stand up for herself, because she obviously can, but it might give her some peace of mind. And I think Huxley would like that.
• “All right,” I say, “I’ll stay, and you can show me around.”
• “Great!” She beams. “So anywhere you fancy going?”
• “Dartmoor, I guess. I don’t know what else is here.”
• “What are you interested in seeing? Nature? Cities? History?”
• “History, definitely, as we don’t have much in New Zealand.” I check my watch. “I should do a bit of work before we go out, if that’s okay. I need to cancel those meetings, and catch up on emails.”
• “Of course. What about if, when you’re done, we take a walk through the village, and maybe have lunch at The Monolith? It’s a pub.”
• “The one with a standing stone? I thought maybe it was fake.”
• “No, it’s real, and it dates to about 2,500 BC. Legend has it that if you touch it, you either die, go mad, or fall in love.”
• “Not sure which I’d prefer.”
• She grins. “The pub does great food, including cream teas, which you absolutely have to have in Devon. Then we could take a drive across the moors. And I’ll find something interesting to do this evening.”
• “Okay, sounds great. First though, I’ll help you wash up, and then you can show me your observatory.”
• She laughs, goes over to the sink, and starts running the hot water. “I was joking. It’s not a real observatory.”
• “I gathered.”
• “It’s pretty cool, though. Do you have a telescope?”
• “I do.” As I pick up the tea towel and start drying the clean crockery she puts on the draining board, I think about my Celestron Equatorial Schmidt-Cassegrain, which I love almost beyond all things. “I’ve been into astronomy since I was a boy. My mum’s dad works at the Institute of Theoretical Astrophysics in Norway, and whenever he’s visited, we go stargazing.”
• She slots a plate into the stand. “He must be really proud of you.”
• “Yeah, I think so.” I watch bubbles rising from the sink, rainbow-colored in the sunlight. One lands on her arm and pops. She has elegant hands, with long, tapering fingers and neat nails painted a sparkly pink. I can’t help but think of those fingers on my thigh, sliding up over my skin to take me in hand…
• She lifts her gaze to mine, and I realize she’s waiting for me to say something.
• “Ah, sorry?” I say. “I zoned out for a moment.”
• Her lips twitch as if she can guess what I was thinking, but she just says, “I asked if you can speak Norwegian.”
• “Yeah, not quite fluent, but enough to make myself understood there.”
• “You’ve been there?”
• “Yes, a few times. It’s where I got the tattoos.” I hold out my arms.
• She drops her gaze to them. “That makes sense. They’re magnificent.”
• “Thank you.”
• “I love the wolf.” She reaches out a wet finger and brushes it against the wolf’s head. A frisson runs all the way up my arm and then back down my spine. As if she felt it, too, she glances at me, then lowers her gaze and slides her hand back into the water to finish off the last mug.
• I take it from her and dry it, hoping I’m not doing the wrong thing by saying I’ll stay with her. She was right—we are grownups, and we should be able to control ourselves. It’s not easy though, when all I can think about is kissing her.
• The dishes done, she hangs up the tea towel and says, “Come this way,” and leads me through the kitchen and out the back door into the garden.
• It’s tiny, with a paved patio bearing a round plastic table and two chairs, and a rectangle of grass that’s the size of the rug in my living room. At the bottom, though, is a greenhouse, and she crosses the lawn in her bare feet, opens the door, and lets me precede her inside.
• It’s a makeshift observatory, with a small, beginner’s refractor telescope standing on a plastic table in the center. “Not quite in your league, I’m sure,” she says, a little embarrassed.
• It’s not a patch on my Celestron, but what impresses me are the star charts she has spread out on the benches all around the greenhouse. They’re very detailed, mapping the constellations visible in the northern hemisphere, and she’s annotated them with the positions of the planets throughout the year, as well as marking things like the phases of the moon.
• “I watched the Perseid meteor shower the night before last,” she says. “So many shooting stars, it was spectacular.”
• “You’ve been looking at Messier 13, too.” I tap the chart showing the Hercules globular cluster she’s marked with a Post-it Note.
• “Yeah, it’s an excellent target for observation at this time of the year because of its high altitude at night. Although you know that, obviously.”
• “It’s a great setup,” I say. “I’m impressed.”
• She nudges me. “You don’t have to give me false flattery.”
• “I don’t do that.”
• She laughs. “No, I forgot you were a Kiwi guy. Oh, mind out!” She just catches the telescope as I knock into it.
• I wince. “Sorry.”
• “I need to bolt everything down when you’re around. It’s like having a young colt in the house.”
• “Are you comparing me to a stallion?”
• “Jesus, are we back to Sir Richard again?”
• We both laugh, and I follow her back out and across the lawn to the house.
• “Okay,” she says, “you crack on with your work and then we’ll go out a bit later.”
• “Do you mind if I set up in the living room?”
• “Of course not. I’m going to do some baking. Do you like muffins?”
• “I like food, Heidi, I don’t care what sort it is. I’ll eat anything.”
• “Right, then I’ll make some muffins.” She starts opening cupboard doors and taking out ingredients.
• I retrieve my laptop from my flight bag, bring it downstairs, and plug it in by the sofa. Then I open it up and start checking my emails.
• Heidi comes in and says, “Do you prefer to work in silence, or shall I put some music on?”
• “I don’t mind noise. Music would be good.”
• She goes over to what I realize is a record player, selects an album from the cupboard beneath it, and puts it on before returning to the kitchen. Stevie Wonder’s voice starts singingYou Are the Sunshine of My Life, and Heidi joins in, her voice like the sunlight filling the house, bright and uplifting.
• I stretch out my legs and prop my feet on the coffee table, surprised that I feel a mixture of happiness and contentment. Usually by now I’m knee-deep in meetings or immersed in computer code, and it feels like a vacation just to do something different.
• I spend a couple of hours working, canceling the meetings I had planned for the next few days, answering emails, and reading a couple of reports my team have emailed to me from New Zealand. Halfway through, Heidi brings in a cup of coffee and a warm banana-and-chocolate muffin dripping with butter, which I eat with pleasure while I finish the reports.
• “Want any washing done?” she asks. “It’s a nice day to hang it out on the line.”
• “Are you sure?”
• “Yeah. It’s not often I get the chance to fondle a gorgeous guy’s boxers.”
• I laugh and get up. “You’re a naughty girl.”
• She grins at me, and I roll my eyes and go upstairs to fetch the clothes I’ve worn over the past week. I bring them down and give them to her, and she takes them out to the laundry.
• Sometime later, when I finish the last report, I close the laptop and lean it against the chair, get up and stretch, then go into the kitchen. I can see Heidi through the window in the garden, so I cross to the doorway and lean against the post, my hands in my pockets.
• She’s hanging up the washing on the rotary line. As I watch, she picks up a pair of my boxers, shakes them to get rid of the creases, and pegs them up. When she’s done, she puts her hands on her hips and studies them, then gives a soft laugh before she turns to collect another item from the basket. Only then does she see me and straighten.
• I raise my eyebrows, and to my delight she turns completely scarlet.
• “No need to ask what’s going through your mind,” I say, amused.
• “Can you blame me?” She’s obviously determined to pretend she isn’t blushing. “I’ve heard about Sir Richard.” She lifts her eyebrows. “Is it true?”
• “Not at all. Two, three inches max.” She giggles, and I give a wry smile. “Who told you that?” I’m pretty sure she’s not in touch with my ex.
• “Evie bumped into Claire. Apparently she’d had a few and was happy to share some details about your family jewels.” She laughs and turns to hang a shirt on the line.
• I don’t say anything. When she’s done, she picks up the empty laundry basket and comes to stand in front of me.
• “Don’t look at me like that,” she says. “I wouldn’t be human if I wasn’t intrigued.”
• “Please don’t talk about my family jewels. It gives me goosebumps.”
• She chuckles. “I only said we wouldn’t have sex,” she points out. “I didn’t say we couldn’t talk about it.” She winks at me and squeezes by to go into the laundry room.
• I sigh and follow her in. I’m beginning to realize I’m subjecting myself to a form of torture by staying here. It’s easy to tell her we’re not going to get involved. It’s a lot harder to carry it through when she’s teasing me, and looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes.
• She’s Huxley’s kid sister. She’s Huxley’s kid sister.
• Say it like a mantra, dude, and maybe it’ll eventually sink in.