CORAL (A Romance Trilogy, Book 1) (40 page)

Taking a glass of water with me I
down a couple of Nurofen with difficulty, trying to get my throat to open is a
real pain in the arse sometimes.

“You have difficulty taking
tablets?” Tristan vigilantly assesses.
Is there anything he doesn’t notice?

“Yeah...” I lie down on the sofa,
resting my head on the pillow.

Tristan kneels down in front of
me. “Why?” I roll my eyes at him, he smiles back at me and moves my hair,
tucking it behind my ear. “Tell me,” he pleads.

I sigh inwardly and begin
rattling it all out at top speed. “I was off school with flu. Gladys went out
to get some shopping. I woke up, took the cold and flu tablets she left on my
dresser and well, they kind of went down the wrong way. I was scared to death,
I couldn’t breathe, I was on my own and...” I feel my throat tightening up on
me as I recall it. “I was ok, obviously, in the end.” I chuckle, trying to make
it seem more light-hearted.

“That must have been scary.” He
says with dark eyes.

I reach my hand up to his face
and stroke his cheek. “It was at the time, now it’s just really annoying that
my throat closes up on me when I need to take a tablet.” I answer yawning
again, my eyes feeling heavier and heavier.

“Sleep Coral,” Tristan says
kissing my forehead again.

And just like that I slip into
unconsciousness.

I WAKE UP TO THE SMELL OF ROAST BEEF
, roast potatoes and Yorkshire puddings. I smile broadly, keeping my
eyes closed I stretch deeply. I feel rested, and my nose is no longer
throbbing. When I open my eyes the first thing I see is Tristan sitting on the
end of the sofa, my feet are on his lap and he’s gently kneading them –
No
wonder I slept so well!
Then I notice he has an e-reader in his hand, he’s
evidently enthralled by whatever book he’s reading.

“Hey.” I say sleepily.

Tristan puts down his e-reader
and leans down towards me. “I’m glad you’re awake.” He whispers. “I was missing
you.” I lean up on my elbows so that we’re almost nose to nose and smile
broadly at him.

“I missed you too,” I tell him
sweetly, my heart racing against my chest. “I didn’t know you liked reading?” I
add.

Tristan loses his grin. “My
grandparents wouldn’t let me watch T.V. Gran used to say it rots your brain, so
I was given books, lots and lots of books. She said that reading would help
expand my mind and help me to become more creative, I guess it kind of stuck.”
I cock my head to the side, he seems pissed off about it.
I wonder why that
is?

“I read a lot too.” I say trying
to work out his expression.

“What kind of books do you like?”
He asks.

“Oh, all sorts. I can read
anything from Anne of Green Gables, which was my favourite as a kid, to Chris
Ryan’s The Kill Zone, you?”

“I’ve read that’ – “Anne of Green
Gables?” I giggle interrupting him.

“Oh, very funny!” Tristan
chuckles. “No, The Kill Zone,” he says poking me playfully.

“Who else do you like?” I giggle.

“Dan Brown, Clive Cussler, Lee
Child, Michael Crichton, the list goes on.” He smiles, waving his hand in the
air.

“Me too, Lee Child does the Jack
Reacher books right?”

“Yes, he does,” Tristan answers
with his heart-stopping, deep dimpled smile. That soulful feeling deep within
me expands again, spreading through me; I swear it’s getting bigger by the day.
It really feels like the more time I spend with Tristan, the closer I get to
him. That never happened with Justin either, it always felt the same.
Breathe
Coral!

“Have you seen the Jack Reacher
film? You know that one with Tom Cruise in it?” I ask, trying to ease the
enormity of the moment.

“No, I haven’t actually.” He
says, his head cocked to the side.

I swallow hard. “Me neither, want
to rent it tonight?”

“Good idea.” He beams, inching
towards me.

“You know what they say, great
minds think alike.” I whisper.

Tristan leans closer and closer,
I can feel his breath against my cheeks. I stop breathing, all I call feel is
an overwhelming burning passion for Tristan bubbling under the surface. I lean
even closer to his lips and stare deeply into his warm brown eyes, I see no
hesitation.

I close my eyes ready for the
feel of his lips on mine –
Bing! –
The oven chimes warning Tristan that
dinner is either ready or something needs checking.

I open my eyes and see Tristan
close his in frustration. It seems we are being held back by random events. I
wish I had more confidence, I really want to kiss him, but I’m just not forward
enough to just launch myself onto him. That just wouldn’t feel right.

“So what are you reading now?” I
say pulling in a ragged breath as Tristan walks over to the cooker, turns over
the roast potatoes and pops them back in.

“John Grisham’s The Racketeer.”
He answers thoughtfully.

“He’s really good too, I’ve read
quite a few of his books. We seem to have a lot in common, don’t we?” I add
sounding hoarse, so I pick up the water and glug a load back.

Tristan turns and smiles at me. “We
certainly do,” he agrees. “Would you like a glass of wine?” He asks as he puts
the beef on the side to rest.

“Please.” Tristan gets two wine
glasses out of the cupboard – he looks so at ease in the kitchen – then he gets
the rose wine out of the freezer, pops the cork and pours two ice-cold glasses.
As he reaches the sofa he passes one to me.

“How did you know?” I say taking
a sip.

“Know what?” He answers looking a
little confused.

“That I...” Then it hits me, I
don’t remember telling him that I like really cold wine? So he must like it
like that too? I chortle and shake my head.

“What?” He questions.

“Nothing I just thought...you
like your wine cold?” I question.

“Um...yeah, I...” His face drops.

“Relax, I do too.” I smile. Tristan
perks up again and takes a drink.

Then I remember his present. “Oh
hey, I got you something,” I beam. “It’s kind of two presents in one though, a
housewarming gift and a thank you for the air-conditioner.” Tristan’s eyebrows
shoot up in surprise. I put my wine down and stand up. “Stay where you are,” I
order.

“Yes Ma’am.” Tristan puts his
wine on the coffee table then leans back against the sofa.

“And close your eyes.” Tristan
grins like a kid on Christmas Day its pure joy to see. As I run up the stairs
to get his painting I suddenly feel really apprehensive.
What if he doesn’t
like it?
Ok so I can say that first, that if he doesn’t we can exchange it.

“Ok, eyes closed?” I shout at the
top of the stairs.

“Yes.” he chuckles. I carefully
make my way back down the stairs. Tristan peeks with one eye. “No peeking.” I
scold. His grin widens, he’s so cheeky. “So, I was thinking if you don’t like
this we can exchange it ok? Above all be honest.” I tell him forcefully.

“Honesty is my middle name.” He
assures me.

I stand in front of him holding
the painting against my body. I almost decide to hold it up above my face so I
can't see his expression, then I change my mind.

“Hurry up,” he says jigging up
and down. “The suspense is killing me,” he adds. He’s really smiling now, his
dimples deep. I swoon at him for a second then snap myself out of it.

I take a deep breath. “Ok, open
your eyes.” Tristan peeks with one eye for a tenth of a second then both eyes
burst wide open in what? Shock, surprise, horror?

“E-type?” He says breathlessly.

“Um...yeah,” I answer glumly. “If
you don’t like it, we can exchange it.” I repeat.

“Shut up…” He drawls staring up
at the painting –
Ok, maybe he likes it?
A grin from ear to ear starts
to spread across his face.

“You like it.” I say jumping up
and down on the spot. Tristan looks up at me with wide eyes. I can’t quite read
the expression on his face. Is it awe, gratitude, surprise?

“Coral, you shouldn’t have,” he
gasps. “This must have cost’ – “Oh hush now,” I scowl. “It’s a double present
anyway.” I whine. The last thing I want is him telling me is I can't spend my
money on him.

“I don’t know what to say.” He
answers softly, still gazing up at me with that look.

“Thank you would be nice.” I say
dryly, cocking one eyebrow up. Tristan stands takes the painting out of my
hand, places it against the sofa, and launches me up into the air and into his
arms, swinging me round as he does.

“It’s perfect, just like you.” He
whispers. My mouth pops open. He chuckles at my shocked expression. “I love
it,” he adds excitedly.

“You do?” I breathe, I still
can’t get over that he thinks I’m perfect.

“Yes.” He chuckles back, placing
my feet back on the floor. We are face to face again, so I reach up and run my
fingers through his hair; it’s so soft.

“I’m glad.” I croak.
Breathe
Coral, breathe!

Tristan closes his eyes, and
leans his forehead against mine. It’s a heady feeling – literally. I’ve seen it
happen in so many movies and shouted at the T.V for the couple in question to
get on with it and kiss, but now it’s happening to me, I finally see the beauty
in it. I see the romance, the longing, the passion. I close my eyes and melt
into the moment.

“Coral,” Tristan’s voice is so
low, it’s barely a whisper. I open my eyes and see he’s looking at me that way
again, like he’s seeing straight through me. My breath catches with the
intensity of the moment. “Tell me you want this?” He whispers.

I let out a ragged breath. “I
want this, I want you.” I say stroking his cheek again. Tristan squeezes me
harder against his body. I wet my lips in anticipation –
Bing!

We both sigh loudly then burst
out laughing –
This is getting god damn ridiculous! –
Tristan lets me
go, shaking his head as he does –
Grrrr, the irony!

“Hungry?” he asks checking the
meal. “Because it’s ready,” he adds.

“Kind of lost my appetite now,” I
say as butterflies are flying around like fighter jets in my stomach.

“Coral, you have to eat.” He
softly admonishes.

“I know,” I whisper.

He walks back over to me and
pulls me close against his body. “I really want you to eat something,” he says.
“You haven’t eaten much over the past two days.”

“Well you probably haven’t
either.” I argue.

“Good point, I haven’t had much,
which is probably why I want to demolish this dinner.”

“You’re hungry.” I guess.

“Yes.” He says, smiling at me. I
frown at the floor. “What?” He says lifting my chin with his thumb and
forefinger –
Be honest Coral.

“Don’t I have any effect on you?
We nearly…and you…you just want to eat?” I stutter.

“You have no idea the effect you
have on me,” he whispers. “I’m hungry, for you and for food.” Oh, bugger me
that’s….that’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever had said to me. “So, shall we? If we
leave it any longer it’ll be ruined,” he adds.

I nod my head in acceptance.
“I’ll set the table,” I squeak.

“Marvelous! Shall I serve?” He
asks, his playful smile is back.

“Yes.” I whisper.

Tristan walks back over to the
kitchenette, while I pull out my tiny little fold up table and two chairs. Opening
them up I place them under the table, then I walk over to the kitchenette,
bumping Tristan with my hip as I do, which he chuckles at. I open the draw and
pull out two placemats, coasters and two sets of knives and forks.

This feels really weird. I, of
course, normally pull out just one, unless Bob eats with me, but he prefers to
eat alone. I smile as I place them opposite each other, then I pick up our
wines and place them on the table too.

I stop for a moment and take
stock of how natural this all feels, Tristan serving up dinner after a lazy
Sunday afternoon walk; it feels like we’re a real bona-fide couple that’s been
doing this forever. It feels so god damn good to eat a meal with someone, so
nice.

Tristan has done a magnificent
job. We have Roast Beef with Yorkshires, Roast potatoes, mustard mash (my
favourite) a vegetable medley of broccoli, kale and peas and roast carrots and
parsnips, topped with delicious thick gravy, this could out-do Gladys’s roasts.

There are three delicious plates
laid out, and the portions are perfect. Not too over-loaded like Gladys’s, she
thinks I’m skinny and need fattening up. So after many arguments she now lets
me serve up my own plate, even though she always rolls her eyes at my small
amount.

“Wow, good job.” I say beaming up
at him.

“Why thank you.” Tristan grins
sexily at me, making me lose my train of thought for a second.

“Um…I’ll take Bob’s round to
him.” I pick up one of the plates. “Oh careful with the table, it’s a bit
rickety,” I tell him as I walk out the patio door, moments later I am back.
Tristan has placed our plates on the table and is sitting down waiting for me,
how gentlemanly.