Kirstie's Tale

Chapter 8: A Dream Of White Horses, Part 8, Off Dating?

What should I say?

“I've been off the whole dating thing. Didn't want to get involved."

He arches a brow. “This is your first date since then?"

“My first date, yes."

Change the subject...

“And there's no 'Mrs Ben' either, I guess?"

“Nope. There was, but it turned out that she preferred my best friend to me." He looks away, his mouth twisting.

“Yeah... that would do it too."

“Shall we talk about something else?"

“Good idea."

Take it easy. No hopping into bed on the first night with this one...

He winds spaghetti around his fork, visibly casting for a new topic.

“So, four dogs? That's a lot. All rescues? They look a mixed bag."

“Yes, 'The Long, The Short and The Tall' aren't they? It's not what I intended, but you can't turn your back on them can you?"

“No, you can't. Scruffy's a rescue too, or at least I assume so. I was out jogging on the beach one day and he just joined me; ran all the way up and down the front, right by my side. There was no-one in sight, so he came home with me. And no-one ever came forward to claim him." He glances up at me; c***s his head. “What?"

“It's a nice story. I wish there were more like you about."

He holds my eyes; swallows his pasta. “There's not too much wrong with someone who's kind to animals."

He's not smiling, but the smile is there, behind his eyes...

*****

“It's been a great evening. I've enjoyed it."

Ben's hand slips over mine. “Enough to do it again?"

“I'd like that."

“Can I walk you home? It's dark. You shouldn't walk home alone."

“I'd like that too."

As we leave the restaurant, he takes my hand again, holding it as we stroll. Our pace is leisurely. I see no reason to hurry. He seems to feel the same way.

At my doorstep, I hesitate.

Do I invite him in?

No, play it cool...

“It's been lovely."

He hovers, then, “Good night... Um, can I call you?"

“You have my number."

His smile blossoms again. A little awkwardly, he leans forward and kisses me on the cheek.

“Good night, Kirstie. I'll be in touch tomorrow."

*****

As I stroll across the sands, a familiar figure jogs towards me, a small dog trotting alongside; a terrier that looks as though it has been assembled from a junkyard of other dogs.

As the runner approaches, he angles my way. Drawing close, he pulls to a stop, huffing.

“Hi, Kirstie," he says, “I was hoping I'd run into you. How are you?"

His face is severe. Ben is not an unhandsome man, but his natural expression is unsmiling, which detracts from his looks, making him appear austere, perhaps even puritanical.

And is that just an appearance...? Or is that really the man?

“Hi, Ben. I'm good. You?"

“Yeah, I'm great. Mind if we join you for a bit?"

“We?"

He nods down toward his dog. “Scruffy wants to make friends..."

True enough, Scruffy is making moves on my Meg, who rumbling low, curls up a lip, unimpressed by this rag-tag terrier.

“... and he's not the only one."

“I'd love you and Scruffy to join us. I was about to have some coffee actually." I hold up my flask. “Want a cup?"

“Great idea."

Sitting on the dune, close to each other, we sip coffee. The wind blowing into our faces sends my hair streaming over my shoulders. It feels very comfortable, very natural.

Ben sits, staring out to sea, not speaking. Then he turns to me. “Can I kiss you?"

I don't reply, simply swaying in towards him. He leans to me, finishing the movement, tilting his head to the side as his lips brush mine.

He tastes sweet and warm and affectionate. He tastes of sunshine and fresh air, strawberries, and vanilla. His hand cupping my cheek, his touch is soft, his mouth pressed to mine in a gentle, almost chaste kiss.

He pulls back for a moment, holding my eyes, then he leans into me once more, but this time, his mouth opens over mine, and he pulls me in tightly to him, holding me at the waist, drawing me in close.

When he breaks away, he looks at me again, then away out to sea. “I wanted to do that the other night, but I thought maybe I'd be moving too fast," he says.

I don't know what to say to him. It's a long time since anyone kissed me in that way. He doesn't just want a quick f**k. This man wants me.

The dogs provide my excuse to break away. “Emma! Will you put that down..." Emma drops the semi-rotted fish she is holding, letting it fall to the sand. Archie immediately seizes the initiative and starts rolling in it.

I leap up. God knows I don't want the car to smell of that on the way home. “Archie. Stop that..."

Emma and Meg start to roll too, competing for the stinking thing, then Scruffy joins in the melee, and chaos breaks out.

Ben leaps up. “Scruffy. No..."

... By the time we have retrieved the fish, tossing it as far out into the waves as Ben's long-armed throw can manage, and persuaded the dogs to play in the water long enough to get rid of the worst of the smell, we are both hot, sweaty and uncomfortable.

“Fancy an ice cream?" I suggest, waving vaguely towards the bar further along the beach. “My treat. I owe you a coffee at the least."

“Sounds good," he replies, with the kind of smile that suggests that ice cream is just an excuse for hanging around a while longer.

And as he smiles, his face transforms. He becomes an attractive man.

At the bar, I juggle change in my pocket. “What are you having?"

“Er, not sure. What have they got?"

“They do a bitter chocolate and sour cherry that's to die for."

“Oh, that's a bit powerful for me." He sniffs. “I'll have the vanilla."

Of course you will...

You're a good man, but I think you'll always choose the vanilla...