Not OK Cupid: A sparkling rom-com you won't want to put down! Read online

  Harry was gnawing at the stick with his back to Ally. She’d be dead by the time he heard her screams.

  Her muscles cried out to run, but she couldn’t leave Marcus to be eaten.

  The swan hissed, regrouped, and came at Marcus with its chest thrust forward, wings spread wide. It was angry. Murderously angry.

  Ally tried to move, tried to cry out a warning, but she was frozen to the spot.

  Marcus shooed the swan again. Riling it up.

  Movement to her left.

  She’d let her guard slip. The other swan attacked in a blur of feathers, the ee-ee sound turning into the hiss of a viper. Its wing-span was so monstrously huge it filled her vision as it flew at her.

  Ally screamed and stumbled back just as Marcus darted in between her and the swan.

  The bird hissed as it slammed into this unexpected barrier, and Marcus yelled, ‘Fuck!’

  It’d got him. The swan had got him. They were going to die. Ally sobbed uncontrollably, her chest aching with every heave.

  ‘Ally, calm down. It’s OK, we—’

  Debbie appeared suddenly, tearing across the grass like Usain Bolt being chased by a velociraptor. She lowered her head and crashed into the swan with the force of a small but very speedy car. The bird tumbled like a gymnast, flapped its wings furiously to right itself, and hissed.

  There was no time to lose. Ally grabbed Marcus’s hand and pulled him away from the lake as fast as she could run, calling for Debbie and Harry to follow. She looked back as they reached the tree line to see Debbie barking at the retreating swans. Ally vowed to buy her enough treats to fuel an army.

  ‘Ally, slow down,’ Marcus said, but the adrenaline wouldn’t let her. He tried again several times as she raced down the path, Harry and Debbie now running alongside them.

  When Debbie flopped on to the grass, Marcus stopped. Ally’s hand was still in his and she jerked to a halt too, kneeling beside Super Debbie to make sure she was OK. The dog was panting but displayed her belly for a rub and seemed happy enough.

  ‘You saved me,’ Ally cried, kissing her head.

  Marcus knelt beside her. ‘Ally, it’s OK. They’re gone. They didn’t even mean to get in our way, it’s just that Harry scared them.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. They have it in for me. Swans. They . . . they hate me.’

  ‘Why would swans hate you?’

  Ally swallowed and tried to control her trembling. ‘They sense my fear.’

  ‘Why are you afraid?’

  The lake was out of view. She was safe for now. ‘I . . . I don’t want to talk about it. You know the Queen is on their side, don’t you? If you hurt a swan, she can behead you or something?’

  Marcus’s lips twitched.

  ‘You’re laughing! It’s not funny.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He forced his face into a serious expression. ‘I wasn’t laughing. I was just picturing a world where people are beheaded for upsetting swans.’

  ‘Well, that’s not funny either. They’re strong enough to break human bones. They can weigh up to thirteen kilograms. They’re very dangerous. And the Queen’s on their side!’

  Marcus nodded quickly. ‘You’re right. I shouldn’t have laughed. One of them did get me, you know, so I’m probably just delirious from pain. Forgive me?’

  Her heart raced again. It’d got him. It could have broken a bone and he was just in shock and hadn’t felt it yet and had internal bleeding and later on he would die and it would all be her fault for not paying attention and wandering over to the pond and antagonising the swans.

  ‘Where?’ she demanded. ‘Where did it get you?’

  ‘Don’t worry, I was joking. It just bumped into my back, that’s all.’

  It might have got his spine or his kidneys or . . . other important stuff. Where was the spleen?

  Ally pulled him on to the grass and tried to push him down. ‘Sit.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ he said, resisting. ‘It only hurt because it got that muscle that always aches when cruel people force me to run.’

  What if it didn’t hurt now because it’d severed his spinal column and he had no feeling in his back at all?

  ‘Sit, now. I’m a nurse, aren’t I? You have to obey a nurse.’

  Marcus sighed and sat on the grass. Ally scooted behind him and lifted his T-shirt, so worried her heart only skipped one beat as his bare skin came into view. It was smooth and tanned a healthy brown, with two columns of firm muscle either side of the spine. There would be some external signs of internal bleeding, wouldn’t there?

  ‘Where does it hurt?’ she asked.

  He prodded his lower back, just next to the spine. Ally pressed her fingertips on his warm skin and felt solid muscle. Not bodybuilder bulge but the lithe, toned power of manual labour.

  The spot wasn’t discoloured or swollen. He didn’t react when she touched it gently, so she pressed deeper and felt an adhesion. A big one.

  ‘I don’t think anything’s broken,’ she admitted. ‘But you have a huge knot.’

  ‘Is that a compliment?’

  She poked him in the ribs. ‘That’s why it’s hurting. The muscle’s tight.’

  ‘How do I get rid of it?’

  Oh, she shouldn’t . . . but why not? It was harmless – in fact, it was helpful. He had a knot, and she was a masseuse. It was unprofessional for her not to do anything about it. Maybe even unethical.

  ‘I’ll work it out. Just relax.’ She rubbed the knot to warm the muscle up, bracing her other hand on his shoulder as she increased the pressure. God, his body felt good.

  As she worked at the knot, he made soft sighs of pleasure. Ally pressed her thighs together, trying to remember he was off-limits.

  ‘You’re wrong, you know,’ she said. ‘About it being too late. Plenty of people find love in their forties. It’s hardly ancient.’

  ‘Have you tried being my age and on a dating site? People seem to think anyone over thirty-five is dead from the waist down.’

  ‘But you’re not.’

  He glanced at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised. He said nothing, but looked amused.

  Ally decided it was best to shut up and not pursue that line of conversation. She concentrated on the knot, and felt Marcus’s breathing deepen.

  ‘So,’ he said finally. ‘I told you, and now you tell me. You’re not Sam’s fiancée, are you?’

  She had promised, dammit. And he already knew.

  ‘No.’

  ‘And he is gay?’

  Ally stared fixedly at his back. ‘I didn’t say I’d tell you anything else.’

  ‘Come on, Ally. You’re not telling me, just confirming what I think I know.’

  Ally thought of her reserved, quiet, sensitive Sam. She’d loved him from the moment she saw him on their first day of school, reading his book in his black square glasses and pristine shirt. How many playtimes had she glued herself to his side and talked at him until he started answering in more than monosyllables? He used to blush from head to foot when she hugged him or kissed his cheek, until he’d got used to her tactility.

  His trust wasn’t easy to earn.

  ‘That’s Sam’s business,’ she said.

  Marcus turned to face her. Her fingers felt cold without his warm skin underneath them.

  ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Then let’s talk about a hypothetical scenario. Hypothetically, if I had a son who was gay, how would you advise me to get him to confide in me?’

  She only knew two ways of loosening people’s tongues, and one of them was illegal between a father and son.

  ‘Alcohol,’ she said.

  Marcus made a face. ‘I don’t want him to tell me then regret it when he sobers up.’

  ‘I didn’t mean get him plastered. Just loosen him up a little so he’s less anxious. Anyway, drunk people never do stuff they don’t want to, do they? It’s all the stuff we want to do sober but don’t have the courage. So if he tells you under the influence, it’s because he wants you to know. And if you’r
e fine with it he’ll be relieved, not embarrassed. As long as you make it very, very clear you won’t tell anyone else. And maybe call him in the morning to reassure him.’

  He seemed to chew it over. ‘Well, I don’t have a better plan. But we don’t drink together. If I ask to see him he’ll be nervous and on his guard.’

  ‘Why?’ Ally frowned. Sam hardly ever talked about his dad, but Marcus clearly loved him. What was keeping them apart?

  ‘Because he’ll know something’s up,’ Marcus replied.

  ‘No, I mean why don’t you two see each other?’

  Marcus became very interested in Debbie’s coat, picking a twig out of the curls.

  Ally considered pressing, but decided against it. It was nothing to do with her. ‘Where do you work?’

  ‘At the moment, near Moorgate.’

  ‘Hmm. There’s a gay bar near Moorgate we go to sometimes. You could walk in and find Sam there.’

  Marcus raised his eyebrows. ‘Don’t you think he’d want to know what his dad was doing at a gay bar?’

  ‘Oh. You could say you popped in to use the toilet . . . no, OK, maybe not. Hmm. Oh! Bounce is nearby. It’s so much fun there. They have ping-pong tables, and great music. And it’s not a gay club. I mean, not gay only.’

  ‘Why do I have to meet him in a club?’

  ‘I can invite him out and get a few drinks in him, then you just happen to wander in. It’ll be a happy coincidence and nothing to do with us plotting.’

  She frowned. Was she really worrying about herself, about Sam discovering her part in this treachery? She should be worrying about him, and how he’d feel if he blurted out his secret. Would he regret it? If they reacted badly, yes. But Marcus was going to be supportive, so it’d be a relief for Sam, wouldn’t it?

  He nodded. ‘OK. When?’

  Argh. How had she got herself into this? Well, now she had, she had to do what was best for Sam. And, on balance, she thought telling his father would make him happy.

  ‘Next Friday?’ she suggested.

  ‘Next Friday it is.’ He arched his back and rolled his head from side to side. ‘My back feels so much better, by the way.’

  Harry flopped his head on to Ally’s lap. She shifted his head a few inches, so he was drooling on the grass instead of her shin, and stroked him. ‘You should go for regular massages. Not with me, because that would be weird, but I could give you some recommendations.’

  ‘You’re a masseuse as well as an artist and a nurse?’

  ‘Uh . . . yeah.’

  He narrowed his eyes. ‘You have time to be a full-time nurse, a hobby artist, and a masseuse?’

  ‘Yes.’ She beamed.

  ‘Ally.’

  Ally sighed. There was no point pretending now the cat was out of the bag, but something in her wanted to carry on the lie. Wanted Marcus to keep thinking she was clever and resourceful and could hold down a responsible job.

  ‘No. Fine. I’m not a nurse.’

  ‘Why did you say you were?’

  ‘I guess Sam wanted you to think he’d ended up with someone a bit more . . . respectable than me. I’m a part-time waitress, bar-maid and beautician, and a very part-time artist. Nice to meet you.’ She held out her hand and he shook it.

  ‘You’ve achieved a lot for your age.’

  Ally lay back and slipped off her shoes so she didn’t get tan lines. ‘Very funny.’

  ‘I’m not joking. You have three jobs and I know you’re excellent at at least two of them.’

  He seemed sincere, and he wasn’t talking to her any differently now he knew she was a minimum-wage monkey. ‘I—’

  Marcus lay beside her and rested an arm behind his head. ‘Look, modesty doesn’t suit you. Accept the compliment.’

  Ally shut her mouth, then beamed. ‘You’re right. I am pretty amazing.’

  ‘Agreed.’ Marcus turned on to his side so his face was inches away. His beautiful coral lips so close she could taste the mint on his breath. And his eyes . . . there was something in them as he looked at her. A hunger, an excitement that made her heart thud.

  His lips parted and her breath caught as he spoke.

  ‘What’s for lunch?’ he asked. ‘Are there spices? I’m starving.’

  CHAPTER NINE

  The air at Bounce popped with the sound of bats and ping-pong balls colliding, and smelled of sweat and beer. Ally was on her third mojito, Sam his fourth cider, and he was loosening up. Music drowned out the conversations from surrounding tables; Sam and his father would be able to talk privately.

  It was all going to plan until Sam had a phone call from his flat-mate. She’d forgotten her keys yet again, the cat hadn’t been fed since morning, and Sam needed to go and rescue them both.

  ‘Can’t you wait half an hour?’ she pleaded.

  ‘Why? Tabitha’s hungry.’

  ‘Because . . .’ She searched around for a lie and came up blank. ‘I really want you to meet my friend.’

  Sam narrowed his eyes at her. ‘Are you trying to set me up again?’

  ‘God, no! He’s your—’ Ally stopped herself just in time. ‘Your . . . kshireish. Yorkshireish.’

  She tried to look innocent as Sam stared.

  ‘Yorkshireish?’ he repeated.

  ‘Yeah. You know. From Yorkshire.’

  ‘Right,’ said Sam slowly. ‘As great as that sounds, I need to go.’

  She had one job tonight – make sure Sam was there when Marcus arrived – and she was screwing it up. ‘Oh, Sam, please. Just half an hour. For me.’

  Sam drew his chair close and took her hands. ‘Think of little Tabby. So hungry. Her little belly empty. Meowing pitifully.’ He widened his eyes. ‘Why haven’t Sam and Sarah come to feed me? Why don’t they love me any more? Why don—’

  ‘Oh, go!’ Ally put her hands over her ears. ‘Don’t make me cry. Go and rescue the kitty, Sam.’

  Sam pecked her on the cheek and left.

  She was relieved when Marcus’s phone went to voicemail – at least she only had to confess her failure to the machine. Too disappointed to stay at the club on her own, she climbed the stairs towards the cloakroom and ran straight into Marcus.

  He wore a blue shirt and dark jeans, had maybe two days’ stubble on his chin, and carried the faint scent of orange, ginger and something spicy. Like a warming, satisfying, filling dessert that she’d have to eat all of even though it left her exhausted.

  Seeing him unexpectedly was dangerous for her blood pressure. She inhaled a shaky breath and resisted the urge to pin him against the wall and see if he tasted as good as he smelled.

  ‘Hi,’ she managed.

  Those warm brown eyes settled on her for about as long as it took to swat a fly. He didn’t smile, and there was none of the usual mischief in his eyes. Ally, in her bright fuchsia dress that showed off legs and cleavage, felt like a potted plant.

  ‘Where’s Sam?’ he asked, looking around.

  Ally’s heart sank further. ‘He left. Sarah was locked out.’

  ‘Sarah?’

  ‘His flat-mate.’

  ‘Oh.’ Marcus deflated, but his eyes finally locked on to hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. Somebody shoved past, forcing her closer to Marcus. She pressed his forearm in apology. ‘I called but there was no reception.’

  He nodded and moved out of the way as a line of women passed him to the toilets. ‘Thank you for trying. Part of me’s pleased. I’m not sure how he would have reacted.’

  ‘Mm.’ Ally’s stomach knotted at the thought of Sam being angry with her. She was still uneasy about all this. Even if she did think it was better for Sam to have it in the open, she didn’t have any right to force his hand.

  ‘Hey.’ Marcus nudged her fingers away from her crystal. ‘Don’t get upset.’

  Ally swallowed and concentrated on not curling her fingers around his and pressing herself against him from head to foot.

  Marcus shook his head, and for a second she was terrified she’d spoken
her thoughts aloud.

  ‘I’ve been unfair to you, Ally. All I was thinking about was getting Sam’s secret out, not how you’d feel about giving it away.’

  ‘You wanted to help Sam. You—’

  ‘Don’t make excuses for me. Should we get out of this corridor? I think we’re a fire hazard.’

  She didn’t want him to leave.

  ‘Want to play ping-pong?’ she asked.

  His smile broadened. ‘Rematch for the race? You’re on.’

  There were no ping-pong slots available for twenty minutes, so Ally took Marcus to the table she and Sam had used. The music was loud, but she was afraid to sit next to him after three cocktails when he looked so delicious, so she sat opposite and strained to hear.

  For once, he wasn’t paying attention to her conversation, and it wasn’t because he was enraptured by her figure-hugging dress. He glanced around the club nervously and averted his eyes if anybody looked at him.

  ‘Sam’s definitely not here,’ she said. ‘He left ages ago. You’re off the hook from difficult conversations tonight.’

  A petite woman in a black dress shouted an apology before diving under their table to retrieve a ball. She held it up, smiled at them both, then did a double take.

  Marcus blushed, avoided her eyes, and seemed to be attempting to melt into the wall behind him. Ally felt a surge of jealousy. He noticed that woman in her little black dress but not Ally in hers? Maybe he liked petite brunettes, like his ex-wife.

  Ugh. What was she doing? He wasn’t hers to get jealous over, and she wasn’t a jealous person anyway.

  ‘I think I should go,’ he said.

  ‘What? Why?’ Please say he couldn’t see what she was thinking.

  He looked around and cleared his throat. ‘I don’t belong here, do I?’

  ‘What? Oh.’ Ally caught sight of the brunette again. She would definitely have to show her ID to get served. ‘You think you’re too old.’

  ‘I don’t think. I know. Don’t you see people looking at us? That woman was trying to work out if I’m a cradle snatcher or if I’m in a club on a Friday night drinking with my daughter like some sort of weirdo loser.’