Читать книгу The Secret Cove in Croatia - Julie Caplin - Страница 11

‘Oof.’ Maddie hit a broad wall of chest as she rounded the corner of the back – no, she must remember to call it the stern – of the boat as she headed out for an early morning trip to the bakery, Bobis, that Zita had recommended. She hadn’t expected to see anyone at this ridiculous hour.

‘Sorry. Oh, it’s you.’ Nick’s voice sounded disapproving.

She raised her gaze to meet narrowed blue eyes.

‘What? You don’t apologise to the help?’ sniped Maddie. How disappointing to realise that he was Nina’s brother.

‘That’s not what I meant.’ He glared down at her and she glared back up at him. They were like two boxers in a ring, posturing before either threw the first punch. He stepped back with a snarky smile. ‘After you,’ he said, allowing her to go first down the gangplank.

She inclined her head with a brief nod and strode down the narrow corridor, clutching the wicker basket, the discovery of which, five minutes ago, had given her so much pleasure – she’d always wanted to go shopping with a proper basket. Now she wanted to use it to bash the irritating Nick over the head.

He fell into step with her as she hit the jetty. ‘Where are you headed?’

‘Into Split,’ she replied, remembering that he was a guest and she owed him a modicum of politeness. At this hour she’d assumed all the guests were asleep.

‘Is the centre far?’ asked Nick, shading his eyes against the already brilliant sunshine and looking towards the town.

‘Not too far, but a good twenty-minute walk,’ she said.

‘Presumably I’ve got time to see it, if you’re going in. The boat won’t leave without you.’

He stuck like unwanted glue beside her as they walked along the jetty. Unfortunately, from here there was only one route along the promenade.

‘We’re due to sail at nine-thirty. When everyone’s had breakfast. I’m serving it at eight-thirty but I need to be back at eight.’ She looked at her watch, which gave her a good two hours.

Nick let out a laugh. ‘Good luck with that. Tara isn’t an early riser and neither is Cory.’

‘What? You know both of their sleeping habits?’ asked Maddie. ‘That’s impressive.’

Nick pursed his lips. ‘They share a flat. And models work long hours, lots of late nights.’

‘Hmph,’ snorted Maddie. ‘Nice work if you can get it.’

‘It’s quite demanding,’ said Nick.

‘Yeah, I bet you really break into a sweat standing around looking gorgeous for a few hours.’

‘And you would know?’

‘Ouch,’ said Maddie with a rueful laugh. ‘He noticed I’m not a size zero.’

Nick stiffened, his mouth twisting. ‘That’s not what I meant and you know it.’

‘What did you mean? I’m dying to know because from here it sounded pretty …’ She deliberately left the sentence to trail, leaving him to fill in the blanks in any way he chose.

‘I meant if you’ve ever been on a photoshoot, you’d realise that it is quite hard work.’

Maddie raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘No mate, hard work is when you break into a sweat, put in twelve-hour shifts, come home and your back is aching and you earn a pittance doing it.’

‘Sounds like someone’s got a bit of a chip on their shoulder. Is crewing hard work? Seems quite a nice gig to me. Didn’t look as if you were working too hard yesterday when you couldn’t be arsed to let us on board.’

‘Like I told you, check-in was at five-thirty. Everyone else managed to get it right … or are you so important normal rules don’t apply?’

His jaw clenched and Maddie was pleased to see that he looked mightily pissed off.

‘Are you always this rude to guests?’

‘No,’ said Maddie cheerfully, swinging her basket as she strode along. ‘Just you.’

Nick didn’t have anything to say to that. They walked along in silence, Maddie smirking to herself. She could not believe this was Nina’s brother. She’d been led to believe he was a nice, normal, down-to-earth bloke and, to be honest, she was a little bit disappointed. So much for her foolish imaginings that he might be a mate or even an ally on this trip. In those shorts, he looked, well, a bit of a dick, which he’d proved himself yesterday. Seriously, who wore shorts that tight, although they did wonders for his backside. If she didn’t know better, in that get-up, she’d have assumed he was gay. And, judging from the second glance of the guy that had just walked by, she wasn’t the only one.

‘I think you’ve pulled,’ she said, trying to keep her face straight.

‘What?’ Nick looked at her, puzzled.

‘The guy that just passed us. Couldn’t take his eyes off your arse.’

She laughed at the startled expression on his face as he shot a quick look over his shoulder and then laughed even more when the dark-haired guy grinned at Nick, revealing lots of perfect white even teeth.

‘All the better to bite you with,’ said Maddie, gurgling with laughter.

Nick’s mouth was pinched shut in a straight line and he swivelled his head back so quickly it was a wonder he didn’t crick his neck.

‘Told you. I think it’s the shorts.’ She eyed the tight fabric with the dodgy turn-ups. They didn’t even look that comfortable.

‘What’s wrong with them?’ he asked warily.

‘Nothing, I guess, if you’re a trainee gigolo or a bit of a fox.’

Nick blew out an annoyed breath. ‘They’re shorts.’

‘They certainly are,’ teased Maddie.

‘You a fashion expert as well now?’ he asked through gritted teeth.

‘You’re on holiday, not the catwalk. Time to relax and enjoy yourself. I’d have thought dressing for comfort was the most important thing.’ Her lips twisted as she tried hard not to smile. In those shorts he might have difficulty fathering children in the future, although she’d be the last to deny that those muscular thighs, covered in crisp sandy gold hair, were pretty impressive and she was on the same page as the gay guy when it came to Nick’s bum. Shame he was such an arse. ‘You want to watch you don’t cut your circulation off.’

‘Is there any kind of filter with you?’ asked Nick.

‘No,’ said Maddie matter-of-factly.

They continued in silence until they reached the palm tree lined promenade, the white stone pavement giving off a strong glare in the bright sunshine.

‘It was pretty lively along here the other night,’ said Maddie, feeling a little guilty that she’d given him such a hard time and that he’d seemed lost in brooding thought for the last five minutes. ‘Are you headed anywhere particular?’

Nick shrugged. ‘No, I just wanted to stretch my legs and see something of Split.’ He gave a self-deprecating laugh. ‘My brother and his wife are avid armchair travellers. If I don’t take the chance to see the city while I’m here, I’ll never hear the end of it. According to TripAdvisor and Dan and Gail, I need to see Diocletian’s Palace, otherwise I might as well have not come.’

‘Yeah, Ivan said it was worth seeing.’

‘You’ve not seen it?’

‘Only a tiny bit the other night and it was impressive,’ she admitted, feeling she ought to try and see a bit more while she could. ‘I might take a quick diversion once I’ve bought the fish from the market and found this bakery and picked up the pastries for breakfast.’ She pulled out her phone and opened up the maps app, trying to work out which direction to head in. The bakery was one Zita had recommended. ‘See you later.’ Holding up her phone, she began to pace back the way they’d just come, then frowned and turned around. Bugger, the little blue dot kept heading in the wrong direction.

‘Do you know where you’re going?’ asked Nick.

‘Yes,’ she said defensively, looking down at her screen. Oh, damn, she was going in the wrong direction again. Map reading, even with GPS, was not her forte. Her sense of direction was woeful.

‘Why don’t I come with you to the bakery and then we can both go to Diocletian’s Palace? I’ll help you find both. You don’t even have to talk to me.’

She gave him a considering look. ‘All right then. I might even let you select a couple of buns, if you’re good.’

Nick laughed, his face lighting up. Bugger, he was a good-looking sod after all. Yesterday she’d been too pissed off to take it in properly. He took her phone from her hand and began to walk across the street to one of the small side streets.

‘Buns.’ He emphasized the northern ‘u’. ‘What happened to pastries? I bet you don’t call them that in front of Nina.’

‘God, no, Nina would scalp me.’ She grinned at him as they walked along the narrow stone paved street. ‘She’s rather particular about her patisserie these days.’

‘Yeah, she’s done well.’ He nodded, a proud smile tipping his lips.

‘She certainly has. Her éclairs are to die for. You know they sell out by lunchtime every day?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

They smiled at each other.

‘So how come you don’t have such a strong northern accent? You sound quite posh for a sheep farmer.’

‘Nina been filling you in?’

‘Well, it stands to reason – if she grew up on a sheep farm, you must have done too. Don’t worry, I wasn’t asking about you.’

‘Never thought for a minute you were. And, to answer your question. I got a scholarship to a local independent school. They were big on rugby and it just so happened that all of us, Nina excepted, were pretty handy with a rugby ball.’

‘Ah, that explains it. Public schoolboy.’

‘And?’

‘Nothing!’

‘You do have a bit of a chip on your shoulder, don’t you?’

‘No,’ said Maddie a shade too defensively. It was just that posh people … well, they made her feel stupid, clumsy and uneducated. On her History of Art degree course there’d been an awful lot of very wealthy people who’d grown up being taken to galleries and museums. It had taken her a lot of study and travel to catch up.

‘Up here,’ said Nick, indicating a street corner.

It was a good job Nick was with her, as her basket was quickly filled with delicious Croatian delicacies and she needed a second bag to carry the bread she’d stocked up on because they might not be mooring up again for a few days. Without asking, he took the bulging carrier bag from her.

They wound through tiny streets flanked by white stone buildings which were blinding in the sunlight.

‘I had no idea it was like this,’ exclaimed Maddie when they rounded a tiny corner and found themselves in what looked like a ruined Roman palace, with tall stone columns and windows high in the walls.

They wandered through a maze of tiny streets, munching on a croissant each; neither of them had been able to resist the delicious smell in the bakery and had succumbed as soon as they’d left. The quiet lanes at this time of day were peaceful and shady with interesting little shops, sunken doorways and large stone flags. It was easy to imagine you’d slipped back in time until, turning a corner, they came to a big open square full of cafés and restaurants.

‘Have we got time for a coffee?’ asked Nick.

‘A quick one, but, like you say, they can’t sail without me and as you’re a guest I can blame you if I’m late back.’

‘Or we could grab a cab. It’s quite a long walk back.’

‘If you’re paying,’ said Maddie cheekily.

‘I’m guessing I’m paying for the coffee too,’ said Nick with a roll of his eyes.

‘If you’re offering.’

They chose one of the pavement cafés and sat outside. As it was still early the square was busy with tradespeople pushing trolleys loaded with boxes of fruit and vegetables, waiters laying up tables ready for the lunch crowd and a few eager tourists with sensible walking shoes and guidebooks, clearly anxious to make the most of the day.

‘This is nice.’ Maddie lifted her espresso and toasted Nick. ‘Thanks.’

‘No problem. You like espresso?’

‘I acquired a taste for it in Paris.’ It also, she liked to think, made her look more sophisticated but she wasn’t about to admit that to Nick.

‘What were you doing in Paris?’

‘I was there on my year abroad, as part of my degree.’ She still got a kick out of saying that. The first in her family to go to university.

She saw the quick flash of surprise cross his face. ‘Yes, I’m quite old. Thirty. I was a mature student; I didn’t go until I was twenty-six.’

‘I sometimes think it’s better to be a mature student; at least at that age you have a better idea about what you want to do. Rather than fall into the obvious.’ His mouth flattened. ‘What did you do?’

‘History of Art.’

‘Interesting. Did you enjoy it?’

‘Yes, I bloody loved it. I’ve always liked art … I know, imagine – me, Maddie Wilcox from Selly Oak, wanting to study art.’

‘Why shouldn’t you?’ asked Nick with a curious smile.

‘Because it’s not much bloody use to man nor beast, as my mum likes to remind me.’ She pulled a face and mimicked her mother’s strong Brummy accent. ‘How you going to get a job with a Mickey Mouse subject like that? Not much call for History of Art down Tesco, love.’

‘She has a point, I guess,’ conceded Nick. ‘But what do you want to do? I take it, by the last-minute nature of this job, crewing on a yacht is not your long-term career ambition.’

‘Given I’ve not done a full proper day yet, who knows? But it certainly wasn’t part of my plan.’

‘Do you have a plan?’ Nick’s question sounded almost plaintive.

Maddie stared at the rooftops on the opposite side of the square, wondering what he’d say if she told him what she really, really wanted to do. He followed her gaze and they both stared at the line of the terracotta roof tiles creating a horizon against the pure blue of the sky.

‘Not exactly. I know what I want to do, but …’ She shrugged almost fatalistically. ‘What about you? Did you go to university?’

‘Yes –’ he gave a short self-deprecating laugh ‘– Harper Adams. It’s an agricultural college.’

‘And what’s wrong with that? It sounds eminently practical if you wanted to be a sheep farmer.’

‘Who says I wanted to be a farmer?’ said Nick, suddenly candid, his blue eyes holding hers, and she saw in them a mix of emotions: anger, sadness and confusion.

‘Family expectation?’

‘No, no, not at all,’ said Nick hurriedly. ‘It’s in my blood. I enjoy it.’

Their eyes met and then slid away from each other and Maddie got the distinct feeling that perhaps Nick was being as circumspect with his true feelings as she was.

‘Well, this has been nice, but unfortunately one of us has to get back to work and real life, otherwise I will turn into a pumpkin. Whereas you have got to get back for a life of decadence and leisure.’

A shadow crossed Nick’s face. ‘Yup, I guess so.’ He peeled some Croatian kuna from his wallet and laid the notes in the saucer with the bill. ‘Back to real life.’

For someone who had nothing to do but laze around being looked after for the next few weeks, he looked remarkably ungrateful about it.