“Kate,” I tell him. “Asking where I am.”

“You didn’t tell your friends you were coming out with me?”

“And have to endure the million questions beforehand and the post-mortem afterwards? No. I didn’t tell them.”

“What if I was an ax murderer?”

“Are you?”

“No.”

“Didn’t think so. Anyway, my mother would have avenged me in ways worse than anything you could have ever done.”

He shudders as he laughs. “I don’t doubt that for a second.”

I quickly reply to Kate, simply saying I’m out with a friend and will be home soon. She texts back at the speed of light, as I knew she would.

Friend? What friend?

I don’t reply this time, instead putting the phone on silent and sliding it back into my pocket. “Sorry.”

“It’s OK. It’s good that you have people who care so much about you.”

The ache in my back is becoming more urgent, and as much as I don’t want to leave him, I know that I will suffer if I don’t get home and take pain relief and the weight off it now. The sun has almost disappeared over the horizon; its majestic colors spread across the sky in one last, triumphant hurrah. On cue, the streetlights flicker on around us. The children have gone home, as have the fishermen. Soon, the first stars will appear in the sky.

“I should get you home,” James says, reading my mind.

“Yes, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. Never be. You have nothing to be sorry for. Come on.” He reaches out and picks up my hand, tucking it through his arm like he did in the field that day. We walk like that, our hips occasionally bumping, back along the promenade to his car, the last one left in the car park outside the surf club.

“This was nice,” I say once we are both inside the car and he is reaching to put the key in the ignition.

He pauses to look at me. “Really?”

“Yes. I’ve enjoyed myself.” I look down at my hands in my lap shyly. “I hope you did too.”

“It was OK, I suppose.”

I look at him sharply, feeling stricken. He is smiling, teasing.

“I’m kidding.” He laughs. “Sorry. Yes, I’ve had a wonderful night.” He rubs his hand through his hair roughly. “Um, so I was wondering, what are you doing this weekend?”

“This weekend?” I think quickly. I have my standard Sunday night meal date at my parents’ house, and a vague agreement with Kate to go curtain shopping. “Nothing that can’t be canceled.”

“Good.” He smiles broadly. “That’s good. I’ll pick you up Saturday morning. Pack an overnight bag.”

“Overnight?” My voice comes out higher-pitched than I intend.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures. “I’m a gentleman, remember. I’ll book two rooms. Your virtue will remain intact.”

“Oh.” I try not to sound disappointed. “That’s good, then.”

Chapter Twenty-Six

You can’t be serious.”

“Why not?”

“Well for one, you barely know the guy. He could be an ax murderer, for all you know.”