Free How I Lost You by Jenny Blackhurst Page A

muscles welcome the hot spray like an old friend. I stay there longer than usual, hidden away from everything that awaits me outside these safe and secure walls. I know I’m simply trying to prolong the moment when I have to go downstairs and confront the complete stranger I dragged from sleep at midnight and who drove three hours just to escort me half a mile down the road and sleep twenty-eight rooms away. It’s safe to say I feel a bit of a prat, which is probably why I spend half an hour showering and applying my make-up. The plus side of this is that I don’t look half bad when I finally decide to head downstairs in search of Nick. Crossing the hallway and pressing for the lift, I pluck up the courage to check the messages and missed calls on my phone. The texts are all from Cassie, wanting to know what I was calling her for last night. Two of the four missed calls are from her too. The other two are from a withheld number. Nick? I find his number in my phone’s address book and press call.
    ‘Morning.’ His voice is gravelly, the voice of someone who hasn’t had much sleep. Immediately I feel guilty again, although it does sound a little sexy. ‘How are you feeling today?’
    ‘Like crap,’ I admit. ‘And starving. Did you call me? Where are you? Did you know when you booked this place that there’s no restaurant?’
    ‘My apologies,’ Nick laughs. ‘There aren’t too many places willing to answer the phone at midnight, let alone take your breakfast order. I’m in the pub next door. Cracking food, are you coming?’
    ‘You had me at pub. I’ll be there in five; feel free to order me a full English.’
    The pub is homely and welcoming, everything you would expect from a Shropshire country inn. Nick is sitting well away from the bar, presumably to avoid being overheard. To his right stands a huge log burner that looks like it could produce enough heat to keep the whole of Ludlow warm when it’s lit. I sit down next to him and give him a weak smile, thank him for the mug of tea he’s ordered and dig in when the food arrives. Nick’s right, it tastes amazing, and to his credit he waits until I’ve finished shovelling huge forkfuls of beans, bacon, sausage and egg greedily into my mouth before attempting to broach the subject of last night.
    ‘Before you start,’ I interrupt as I see his mouth open to speak, ‘I really am sorry for calling you last night. I have no idea why I didn’t just ring the police. It really was so good of you to come all this way, especially as we’ve only just met. I feel like a prize—’
    ‘For God’s sake, woman, will you stop apologising?’ Nick cuts in. ‘I heard enough of it last night. I came because I wanted to make sure you were OK. I can’t just leave someone who’s in trouble, you know, even a person I’ve known less than twenty-four hours.’
    ‘Well, thanks.’ I swirl a piece of toast around my plate to soak up bean juice. Of course he would have come , I tell myself sharply. What makes you think you’re so special?
    ‘I think what happened last night confirms your suspicions that the photo was a threat,’ Nick remarks, nicking the rest of the toast from my plate and devouring it. I look up at him and find those piercing eyes locked on to mine, watching.
    ‘Why?’ I ask, but I already know the answer even as my mouth forms the question, and I nod slowly.
    ‘Whoever was in your house was trying to scare you.’
    ‘Maybe it wasn’t the same person. Maybe someone else knows I’ve been getting hassled. But then how would anyone know about the photo? You’re the only person we’ve spoken to, and I’m presuming you haven’t told anyone.’ Nick raises his eyebrows in a pointed no. ‘And I certainly haven’t.’
    ‘And are you sure . . .’ He lets the sentence trail off and I shake my head firmly.
    ‘Cassie hasn’t told anyone,’ I say in a tone that I hope warns him not to argue with me. ‘She knows how to keep a secret.’
    Nick