Fur Coat No Knickers (36 page)

C
HAPTER EIGHTEEN

[Text from Mum]

So I hear that Lewis is a dentist, can u ask him about my denture that keeps falling out? Well done anyway. So much better than a coach driver. Xx

[Text from Laura]

Have fun tomorrow. Just relax and be your lovely self x

[Text from James]

Please video him in action ;-) ;-) :-)

[Text from Siobhan]

Don't be having sex with him on the first date, wait till he asks for a threesome and call me, pronto!!

The night before my date with Lewis, I began to get cold feet. I must have drafted at least
20 messages to cancel, but in the end I didn’t send any. I just couldn't.
Perhaps I’ll feel better in the morning
, I told myself.

Leading up to the date
, I was practically sick with nerves. I actually had to do some of Lickarse’s breathing exercises when I heard the roar of Lewis’ bike approaching my street.
Come on,
I warned myself as I straightened my t-shirt, pulled up my skinny jeans and opened the door.

‘Morning
, Tara,’ said Lewis, removing his helmet, smoothing down his surfer-style, sun-kissed hair and pecking both of my cheeks.

‘Hey, Lewis,’ I said, breaking into a wide smile.
Why on earth had I been feeling this way?
He is so nice and so goddamn hot, standing there clad in full biker leathers. Phwar!

‘Ready for our little adventure then?’
he asked, handing me over a pair of leather trousers and a biker jacket.

‘
Yes… I think so. Where is it we’re actually going again?’ I asked, desperately trying to sound enthusiastic, as I eyed the bike wear suspiciously.

‘It’s a surprise
,’ he insisted.

I suddenly became very hesitant about the entire date. In a moment of panic, I involuntarily
began blurting, ‘Look… Lewis. I don’t know how to put this… but can we
just
be friends? It’s just that… well, I don’t know if I’m ready yet.’

Lewis looked at me with his bright
green eyes sparkling against his tanned face. ‘Ready for what exactly?’ he asked with an undeterred cheeky grin.

I felt my face flush.
Cocky sod, he knows exactly what I mean.

‘Ready for…
well… I don’t know,’ I floundered.
Actually, that’s a good point; what is it exactly I’m not ready for?

‘Shall we go then?
Personally, I think you’ll have a great time. But, you’re under no obligation whatsoever to enjoy it. I won’t even ask for one of your beautiful smiles. Scout’s honour.’ he said, holding up three gloved fingers.

‘
Hmm… Okay then. But do I
really
have to put this lot on?’ I questioned, cocking my nose up at the pile of leather in my arms. They felt so damn heavy.
God knows if they will fit me. And doesn’t leather put at least ten pounds on your behind?

‘I just didn’t realise that we were going out on the bike. I thought we could
…’ I stopped short, seeing the spark of disappointment in Lewis’ face.
God, I’m such a miserable bitch.

‘I have a little picnic ready, with
Champagne. It’s all in a cool-box on the bike waiting to go,’ Lewis said, having recovered. ‘It’ll be fun.’

Before I could change my mind,
I excused myself and ran upstairs to change into the leathers, leaving Lewis standing downstairs in the hallway. Privately, I was chiding myself. I knew I needed to make more of an effort. I’m sure part of the problem was that the leathers reminded me of my shameful experience with that poxy catsuit.

‘Err, Lewis…’ I shouted down the stairs. ‘How easy are these to get on? I mean, do I need talc or something?’

‘
Err, no – I don’t think so. The guy in the shop said if they don’t fit you, we could return them for a different size. Are they too small?’

Even if they were too small
, there was no way on this earth I would admit it. Grim-faced, I slipped my jeans off and started to put the leather trousers on one foot at a time, wobbling off-balance. I fell into my bedside table, sending myself and a lamp flying to the floor with an almighty crash.

‘
Tara! Are you okay?’ Lewis shouted, running up the stairs.

‘
… I’m okay! Please don’t come up!’ I shrieked, horrified by the thought of him seeing me like this and with my trousers half on.

Too late, there was Lewis standing in the doorway of my bedroom. I grabbed the leathers and held them tight against me, my hand held out like
grounded traffic policewoman in a vain bid to stop him in his tracks.

‘Sorry
– are you alright?!’ he asked, shielding his eyes from my modesty. ‘I thought… you might need a hand.’

‘Oh really?’ I
laughed, pulling my leathers on and heaving myself up from the floor. I playfully shooed Lewis down the stairs, both of us still laughing.

‘Tara,’
Lewis shouted back as he clattered down the stairs, ‘I know this is forward, but purple is most definitely your colour!’

I laughed out loud as I firmly closed my bedroom door.
Bloody cheek. My underwear is pink.

…
Underwear… Ann Summers… Bingo!
I knew I’d seen Lewis before; he was the guy in the queue trying to buy underwear the day I got taken hostage in that gobbling catsuit!
What a small world,
I thought.

Within moments of composing myself, we were
roaring up my street on the back of Lewis’ Ducati.

As I molded my body around
Lewis and rested my helmet on his back, I suddenly realised I felt totally relaxed around this man; even though we’d only known each other a short time (and the fact we were on the back of a terrifying motorbike). Somehow, it just felt right.

Before I knew it, we were thundering out of the city and swishing
around corners on country roads. I closed my eyes tight and screamed at the adrenaline-fuelled, heady mixture of delight and fear rolled into one. After a while, Lewis signalled and turned off the road into a picturesque, lush, green field laden with bright red poppies.

‘Phew,’ I exhaled as I removed my helmet. After that incredible journey, I couldn't help but smile. Then I had a proper look at the breathtaking setting and smiled even more.

‘Wow
!’ I shook my head in awe at just how amazing everything was right at that moment. I wondered if I would ever feel this good again. For a start, my heart was a long way from reaching its normal rhythm. Totally speechless, I clutched my chest.

‘It’s so good to see you smiling,’ said Lewis looking almost proud, ‘you have such a lovely smile.’

Blushing,
I caressed the warm leather seat of the gleaming motorbike. ‘I’ve got to get me one of these – it’s such a rush!’

As Lewis unload
ed the cool box from the bike and carefully laid things out on an old-fashioned picnic rug, I stood and took in the wonderful, calming views surrounding us. I suddenly felt weepy (not in an I’m-going-to kill-myself kind of weepy, but more of a today-I’m-glad-to-be-alive weepy).

‘
Are you okay?’ asked Lewis gently. I suppressed my tears and turned to face him as he handed me a glass of Champagne. There was a look of concern etched over his face.

‘Yes,
I’m fine,’ I nodded breathing in the country air, forcing a smile to make up for my soppiness. ‘It’s just so nice here. I can sometimes get a little emotional when I see things of beauty, sorry.’ I blabbed.

Lewis politely ignored my moment of weakness and held out a bottle of water for himself.

‘You’re not drinking Champagne with me?’ I asked.

‘I don’t drink and drive
,’ smiled Lewis as he knelt down and picked a poppy from the wild field, ‘and especially when I’m carrying such precious cargo.’

‘Well, you certainly score points for that corny line,’ I smirked
, ‘I have to be honest with you, Lewis… I
was
going to cancel our date this morning… but now I’m so glad I didn't.’

‘
Well, I’m glad you didn't either,’ he said, beaming. He then gently placed the beautiful red poppy into the side of my hair, pecked my nose and began quoting;

‘
Just living is not enough… one must have sunshine, freedom, and a little flower.
’
[– Hans Christian Andersen.]

‘
Wow… that’s beautiful. It’s so true and so poignant right now.’

D
esperate to impress Lewis with an equally mind-blowing quote of my own; I stood, gormlessly, waiting for my brain to engage, looking up to the cloudless-sky for inspiration.
Nope. Nothing up there. Bugger. Come on brain, engage, engage!
I linked my hands behind my back (just as I had seen Laura do so often) and began pacing up and down in deep thought.

‘
Sorry… It takes time to kick-start this thing,’ I said, tapping at my head with the empty Champagne glass. ‘It’s not that I’m not clever,’ I added, recalling one of Laura’s sessions with me, ‘it’s just… I’m more of a creative, rather than an academic person.’

‘
That’s fine. Relax, please,’ insisted Lewis, smiling and rubbing my arm tenderly. ‘This isn't a competition.’

I wa
ved a finger in the air, indicating I had an impending brain wave. ‘Wait – I’ve got it!’ I squealed, causing Lewis to startle.

Be prepared to be impressed
, I thought, thanking God for sending this Eureka moment.

‘A woman carries her clothes, but it’s the shoe that carries the woman
’
 [–
Christian Louboutin]

Right back at you!
I thought smugly.

‘
See, that’s what I lov… err… what I
like
about you, Tara. You’re smart, but also cute and innocent. You’re… wonderful.’

Lewis was
beaming, not in a
Christ-she’s-dim
sort of way, but rather with a look of genuine affection. Laura may be a total lickarse, I thought, but she’d certainly done a fine job at getting my brain to engage.

I smiled bashfully,
fingering the delicate flower in my hair, almost swooning. I changed the subject to draw attention away from my reddening face.

‘
Wow. There’s not another soul around for miles. It feels strange for a city girl like me. Mind you, I could get used to it; it’s just
so
calm.’ I said, taking in every drop of the freedom I felt. ‘Have you seen that gorgeous house over there? It’s huge! And with all this beautiful, quiet land around it. Can you think of a more idyllic setting for a home?’

‘Do you like it?’
Lewis asked, casually chugging on his bottle of water.

‘Who wouldn't?’ I
asked rhetorically, still stunned by the beauty of the backdrop.

‘
Good. Well, I’ve had that house for a few years now. I guess I must have been thinking ahead. I’d always thought it would be amazing to have my home and veterinary surgery here.’

‘
…You
own
…
all
of this?’ I said, swinging around to face him. I needed to check whether he was just teasing me. I could tell by his face he wasn’t.
Jesus.
I was gob-smacked. ‘What, you even own those
huge
trees over there?’

‘Sure do,
’ he smiled.

I handed over my empty glass to be refilled. Maybe I did fancy him more than I realised. He had such a lovely outlook on life. I loved the wild freedom of the motorbike and the place he had picked for his home and surgery.

Suddenly I eyed him with a whole different viewpoint. This was indeed a man to be taken seriously, very seriously. As a matter-of-fact,
I could end up being a vet’s wife
I thought.
I wonder if he has letters after his name? Or before his name? Is he classed as a doctor? He must be, I thought, he’s a vet… But would I be able to use those letters or his title with my name? Would that then make me…

‘
… Lewis,’ I began, as casually as possible, ‘your surname - is it the same as Camilla’s?’

‘Yeah, we’re both
Copeland’s, why do you ask?’ Questioned Lewis, while tinkering with the strap of my helmet.

‘Nothing
, I was just wondering.’

Hmmm. Mrs. Tara
Copeland.
Mrs.
Dr
. Tara Copeland. Surely if we were to marry… I would get the Dr. title?