Page 90 of Washed Up

She tutted. ‘He’s not my– He’s not hulking and he’s not my fisherman,’ she said all in a rush.

‘He’s not? You guys looked pretty cosy on the beach.’

‘I’ve told you already, that was nothing.’

Dylan studied her, his navy-blue eyes intense. ‘You didn’t, actually.’

‘I didn’t?’

‘No. You just stammered a bit. But you never actually said what the situation was.’

Frankie crossed her arms. ‘I thought you were here to write,’ she said before she could stop herself. ‘Alone, you said.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘It’s got everything to do with it. Otherwise, why would you care what I get up to with the hulking fisherman?’

Dylan’s eyes narrowed. ‘So you are together.’

‘I didn’t say that.’

His face shut down. ‘You didn’t have to. Read you loud and clear. I’ll just hole up here and you just carry on doing whatever it is you do here and that’s that. Okay?’

‘Fine,’ said Frankie, though it was anything but.

‘Fine,’ said Dylan, his gaze steady.

‘I’ll go, then,’ said Frankie.

Dylan moved ever so slightly towards her, then stopped, as if unsure of what response he might get. ‘Dinner, though?’ he said hesitantly.

‘I thought you needed to get some writing done.’

‘Tomorrow night?’ he said, as if they hadn’t just got sidetracked.

She hesitated. She urgently needed to do something about Jake before she even contemplated considering anything happening with the handsome musician man, if that was anywhere near the realms of possibility… or she’d never hear the end of it. This island was a den of gossipmongers. Especially when it came to A-list celebrities making a move on one of their own. But then, she also really didn’t want to let this opportunity go.

‘Tuesday?’ he offered, smooth as you like.

‘Wednesday?’ said Frankie, a smile threatening to break the tension. She chewed her lip to try to contain it.

He let out a breath. ‘Good. Wednesday, it is. See you in the hotel at 8pm.’

‘Fine.’

‘Good.’

Frankie turned and fled before he could change his mind.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Frankie was so giddy she could barely walk in a straight line as she skipped away from the cottage, spirits soaring, stomach churning. She had another date with Dylan Wright.

Or more realistically, she was having dinner with Dylan Wright because he knew no one else on the island but still, that was a start. More than a start. It was an opportunity and a test and terrifying all in equal measure, and she knew she desperately needed to do something about poor Jake before anything else happened. And then, what? She’d sail away with Dylan and follow him on tour or something? This whole thing was crazy. She needed to calm down. She needed a coffee.

And what of poor Jake? Whenever she thought of him her stomach twisted. She knew she wasn’t being fair but didn’t know how to make it right.

Frankie’s feet had taken her down the hill to Belvoir Bay without her even noticing, as they always did when she was conflicted about something. She flumped down on a free bench outside the café.