Page 29 of Romantic Hero
I snatch the biscuit tin off the table and put it safely back in the cupboard.
‘No more custard creams for River Oakley.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Hi hi! Sorry for bothering you but still not received your pages and wondering if the email gremlins somehow got them!! I checked my spam folder but no luck. Can you send again?? No worries if you forgot. But tonight/tomorrow would be great!!!!
All best
Bridget Xx
Funnily enough, when I chose my cute little racing-green Mini Cooper from the second-hand car showroom, I didn’t consider the possibility of one day having to fit a six-foot-four, two-hundred-and-forty-pound cowboy in the passenger seat.
‘Can you open your window, please?’ I ask River as I open my own. ‘It’s boiling and my glasses keep sliding down my nose.’
‘This ain’t even a car,’ River mutters as he presses the window down, half sticking his head out to get a bit more room. ‘It’s like toy town in here. Why wouldn’t you get yourself a truck?’
I pause as another car sneaks in line ahead of me, feeling a little jolt of pleasure as the driver waves her thanks.
River glances behind him into the back seat with a puzzled shake of the head. ‘Plenty more room in a truck.’ I peer across at him as he wriggles about uncomfortably. His thighs are spread wide, as if that’s the only way he can sit, but his top half is sort of folded in half. His precious Stetson has its own seat in the back next to a tote bag stuffed with a stack of Bedlam Creek books River insisted I brought with us so that he could do some more investigating into what might be going on and how he may have ended up here. In the boot sits my biggest suitcase, and in it are all mine and River’s new clothes, the jeans and harmonica from his cowhide holdall, plus a bag full of make-up and some heavy-duty Spanx to go beneath the silver sequin dress.
‘Okay,’ River says efficiently as we pull onto the motorway. ‘Last night we covered the history of you and Henry. Main takeaways – you met Henry at the London Library two weeks after Josie passed away in 2021, he helped you get through the worst of your grief and you were immediately smitten with each other. He is considerate and astute, cares very much about art and literature and poetry, enjoyed showing his love for you via grand romantic gestures –barf– hates reality TV and horseradish, loves cricket and lakes, and wanted to halt your relationship because he felt he was becoming emotionally apathetic and under-stimulated by it. Harsh.’
I nod sadly. ‘Yep.’
‘God, love really is a game for fools.’
‘I can see how you may think that – especially witnessingmy heartbreak – but it’s simply not true. Love is pretty much the whole point.’
River wrinkles his nose. ‘Agree to disagree?’
‘Hmm. For now.’
‘I was thinking,’ River taps his hands on the dashboard as I let another car overtake me, ‘that while we’ve got some time on the drive, it might be useful to find out more details about each other so that our dating comes off as a genuine thing.’
I chew on my lip. ‘Are you absolutely definitely sure we actually need to pretend to be dating?’
‘I am very sure.’
‘Won’t it make Henry retreat if he thinks I’m over him and that I’ve fully moved on?’
River reaches down and opens up the snack bag in the footwell even though we’ve only been in the car for fifteen minutes and everyone knows you should really be waiting about thirty minutes before accessing the snack bag on a trip. He pulls out a red apple and polishes it vigorously on his crisp white T-shirt. ‘No. It’s plain old human nature to want what you can’t have. As soon as Henry sees you with a man like me, that button will be well and truly pushed. He won’t know what to do with himself.’
‘A man like you?’ I groan.
‘Come on, we both know what I look like, Gertie. No use denying it. People focus on it far too much for my liking, but I’ll admit it comes in handy from time to time.’
‘Just when I think you couldn’t be more full of yourself.’
‘I’m only being honest.’ River grins. He takes a huge bite of the apple, crunching noisily, the sweet fresh scent of it wafting beneath my nose. ‘Haven’t you ever used your looks to get what you want? Sway things your way?’
‘My looks?’ I snort, glancing into the dash mirror to see a face that is objectively average. Dirty-blonde hair that could do with some highlights. Blue eyes that are big and long-lashed but a little far apart from each other. A snub nose that some days feels cute and elf-like but most days feels inelegant. I get a sudden memory of being a teenager, my auntie Mags remarking that looking at me was like seeing a funhouse mirror version of Josie. All the same parts, just a little off. ‘No.’
‘Is this modesty another version of you being polite?’ River asks with a roll of his eyes. ‘Because spare me. You must know how pretty you are.’
‘Shut up!’ I exclaim, my ears growing hot.
‘I’m serious. It’s a simple fact. You’re not exactly showing it off to your best advantage and all, but you’ve got the goods, Gertie.’
