Page 84 of Washed Up

‘With you? Definitely not,’ said Brian. ‘The man’s got to have some standards.’

Bobby laughed even as Frankie’s heart sank into her shoes. At least it wasn’t her mother, who was now leaning against the kitchen counter looking most put out.

‘I thought I was the one sorting out young Dylan,’ she said, pursing her lips.

‘He’s far too young for you,’ said her husband with a snort. ‘Plus, you are a married woman might I remind you.’

Lily waved a hand. ‘Whatever,’ she said like a petulant teenager.

Frankie rolled her eyes, then turned to Bobby. ‘Come on, if you’re coming.’

‘How about an autograph, do people still do those?’ said Bobby as if no one else had spoken, and Frankie smiled at the little glimpse of teenage Bobby she’d missed for so long.

‘You can ask,’ she said, shrugging. ‘If you want to look like an idiot.’

‘Hey…’

‘Just saying.’

And so now here she was, mooching around outside the hotel, waiting for Dylan, while Bobby chatted to Sally in reception. All she needed was Jake to turn up and it would be the perfect morning.

‘Hey, Frankie,’ said a voice. Not Jake’s, thankfully.

Dylan was standing before her, two enormous bags at his feet, arms folded as if he’d been watching her for a while.

‘Good morning,’ she said, instantly self-conscious under the heat of his stare. ‘How was your night?’

‘Great, actually. I opened the windows and listened to the sea. It’s healing, somehow.’

‘You need healing?’ she said before she could stop herself.

And there it was again. The flash of something in those navy eyes, just for a split second. Something darker. Frankie frowned, but a moment later she was already wondering if maybe she’d imagined it.

‘No, no, of course not,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘I meant, I don’t know, soothing, perhaps?’

‘That’s for sure. Shall we go?’ said Frankie, wondering if they could get away without Bobby spotting them. Somehow Dylan must have slipped past him in the lobby. Apparently, he’d been too – ahem – busy with Sally to notice the international rock star walking past.

‘Dylan Wright as I live and breathe,’ came his dulcet tones at that very moment.

To his credit, Dylan plastered a smile onto his face. ‘The very same,’ he said, putting out a hand to shake Bobby’s.

Bobby’s eyes widened as he took it. ‘Woah. It genuinely is you. I thought Frankie was making it up. She does that.’

Dylan looked amused as he threw her a look. ‘Does she, now?’

‘I absolutely do not,’ said Frankie. ‘Dylan, this is my brother, Bobby. The bad news is, he’s a big fan, sorry about that. The good news is, he’s only here for a few more days.’

‘Perfect,’ said Dylan, smiling warmly at Bobby, who had gone on shaking his hand as if he didn’t want to let it go. ‘Great to meet you, Bobby.’

‘Likewise. She’s right, I am a big fan.’

‘Well, that’s kind of you to say, thanks, man. Nice island you got here.’

‘Oh, cheers. We like it. It’s a real babe magnet.’

‘Ha, I’m sure. They flock over on the ferry for a glimpse of the famous Bobby.’

‘Something like that.’