Double Booked Ch. 01

He dialed M.M.'s number. He, she or they had better solve this. He paced as the phoneline rang four times before connecting. A soothing woman's voice spoke.

"Hello Mr Sandford. Is there an issue?"

"Hi. There is an issue actually. I've just arrived at your Airbnb to find a young lady here who also has a booking."

A keyboard tapped through the phone line. Matt glanced up at Grace and caught her eyes wandering over his body. She quickly looked away.

"Yes sir," the woman said, "That would be Miss Clover, she's the other guest staying with you."

"I was under the impression that I had the cottage to myself. I specifically asked and -"

"No sir, I'm afraid that Manobier Cliff Cottage is a two-guest retreat. It says so on the booking page."

"I looked very clearly at the website. There was no mention at all of sharing."

"Well it's there sir. I suggest you look more carefully."

The phone line clicked off. Had she been mocking him? Matt surely would have noticed if there had been mention of sharing. He'd even read the small print of the contract that most people skipped past. He navigated to the booking page and looked again. There it was. Nestled under the title: Two-bedrooms, shared accommodation. How had he possibly missed that? It was so clear.

Matt turned to Grace.

"It appears that both of us are staying here this weekend."

She shook her head.

"What? But this was a single..." Matt showed her the tag-line. She stopped as she understood. "That's not, that's"...she seemed a little flustered. She looked down, thoughts racing through her mind. "I guess we're sharing then." She embarrassedly picked up a luggage case she'd placed under the window ledge and began walking towards the cottage door. He couldn't help but notice the slight way her hips swayed as she walked. The way her auburn hair flowed behind her. Those tight jeans hugging her... Matt felt his disappointment at his plan being destroyed suddenly softening. Spending the weekend in the middle of nowhere with a young woman wasn't the worst thing, was it?

No. Don't even think that. Thoughts like that weren't productive. This was still a productive weekend. He was going to call the Germans in an hour. Just focus on his pitch. Spreadsheets. Spreadsheets. Spreadsheets. Good, he was switching back into work mode. Stay there now Matt. Stay there in your spreadsheet palace.

He walked towards the door. She looked over her shoulder, hazel eyes twinkling

"I'm Grace, by the way."

"Matt." he grunted.

Shit. This was going to be a long weekend.

Matt ducked through the oak door, narrowly avoiding the low frame. Dark wooden beams stretched the length of the front room, built with no regard for six-foot-plus men. As long as he was careful then his head should survive the weekend relatively unbruised. Matt surveyed his home-from-home. To his left he was greeted by a small, rustic kitchen, complete with a clutter of copper pans suspended from the ceiling. It's walls were a soft, non-offensive beige, decorated with art of the local landscape. A watercolour caught his eye, depicting the storm-battled cove in a majestic swirl of greys and blues. The stout cottage could be seen cowering atop, a solitary speck of orange. Beautiful.

To his right the beige gave way to exposed brick. A large sheep hide rug lay upon the slate floor in front of an open fireplace. Two leather arm-chairs and several book-crammed oak shelves made it an ideal snug to pass a storm in. The furthest chair sat just beneath the ajar window Grace had been trying to climb through, piled with board games, both familiar and strange.

Between the areas a small corridor disappeared into darkness. Down it, the room on the left had been claimed by Grace and the door closed. Matt took the opposite room. A king-sized, tartan-quilted bed was squeezed into the window-side corner, leaving just enough room for an antique wardrobe. Lacking alternatives, Matt placed his luggage upon the bed. Having packed lightly and well-organised it took him only moments to hang his clothes in the wardrobe.

Matt took his laptop into the kitchen and perched upon a bar stool.

He prayed Grace would stay silent during his calls. Thus far she'd hardly made a noise so he wasn't going to bother her while she unpacked.

He powered on his laptop and let it load. His mouse hovered over the wifi-icon and clicked the drop-down. Nothing. That was strange. Matt turned his wifi off and on again. Still nothing. Matt gulped. He began searching around the room for the router - behind the bookcase.

There wasn't a router. He was router-less.

Once the internal screaming subsided Matt came up with a plan. There was a town nearby, Manorbier. It wasn't large but surely it must have one of those internet cafes. That could work. Not ideal but there was no point crying over spilt milk.

Matt grabbed his laptop and ran back to his room and grabbed his car keys. He raced out of the room and almost crashed into Grace. Those eyes, the soft touch of roses. She dressed up in her denim jacket but had added a small hat. She was attractive. Very attractive. Shame that Matt had promised to himself that he wasn't going near women. He had never been a womaniser but back at his university days girls like Grace had been exactly his type. Those days were long gone.

She gasped as they almost slammed into each other. "I was just about to head into town, I need to pick a few things up."

He was heading into town anyway. It would be impolite not to offer. He just hoped he wouldnt do anything stupid.

"Oh, I was heading into town too. Would you like a ride?" He could see she was hesitating, "It's a thirty minute walk and it will probably rain any minute." Was he over-doing it? Why did he want her to accept so badly?

Grace nodded.

"Sure."

Matt's heart leapt.

~ Grace ~

Pulling the lever Grace leant back into her seat, stretching out her long legs. The car was spotless, and smelt of leather and watermelon. 'He's a bit orderly' she thought to herself, chuckling at the thought of her scruffy polo at home. Nonetheless, she had to admit that the state of his car put her at ease. Or maybe it was Matt himself. He had a calm sense about him that gave her feelings of safety and security. His gentle voice, the little smile he made at the end of every question, like he was comfortable with his own awkwardness. Because he was awkward, very much so, with his upright posture and slight stutter. It was endearing, he was endearing. Grace glanced over at him, he was facing away from her adjusting his seatbelt. She could see the defined muscles in his arm as he reached across, flexing slightly as he pulled the strap, and felt a stirring in her stomach. Lifting her gaze, she noted the broad width of his shoulders, the sharp angle of his jaw. He was handsome, in a modest sort of way, with his British complexion and thick dark hair. He fixed his belt into the socket and she turned away quickly before he noticed her inspection.

"So...erm..what brought you to Wales?" Matt asked her as he pressed the start button and shifted the car into gear. It moved off smoothly, purring into life.

"Oh, I just needed a little break from daily life, you know how it gets" she replied vaguely, unsure just how much she wanted to disclose to a man she had only just met. He nodded, knowingly, turning out of the cottage drive and onto the narrow country road.

"A little break can certainly help to boost productivity if you're finding work a little intense". Looking down, Grace grimaced, if only work was the issue, then perhaps she would be able to resolve it.

"Or are you escaping someone" he joked, glancing at her momentarily in the rearview mirror.

"Something like that." Grace chuckled nervously before turning to see the view out of the window. Tall dark hedges flew past, a green blur broken only occasionally by farmers' gates. The sky was now a soft lavender, but granite clouds hung ominously in the distance, threatening rain ahead.

Grace sighed, "I hope the rain holds off" she turned to meet Matt's gaze in the mirror. His eyes seemed fixed on hers, how long had he been watching her? Her cheeks flushed, the thought made her a little giddy. He continued to hold her gaze and she found herself unable to look away, locked into his gentle grey eyes. Finally he turned his sights back to the road, and released her. Flustered, she anchored her eyes on the road ahead, desperately concealing the wave of emotion that settled somewhere between her legs. The journey continued in silence. Grace wished he would put on the radio to break the tension, but he didn't seem like the type to play music in the car. After what felt like an eternity of grassy hedgerows and awkward silence, they finally entered the village. "Anywhere here is fine" Grace said hastily, unable to stand the suspense any longer. Matt pulled up on the curb and she swiftly made her exit "thanks for the ride" she called, closing the door behind her. She didn't quite catch Matt's response as she hurriedly strode away towards the local Tesco, but she wasn't going to ask him to repeat himself.

~ Matt ~

She didn't catch the invitation to join him at the pub. Good. He didn't really know why he had asked. Well, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he had asked. The image had been too powerful to ignore. Him. Her. Sheltering in the warmth of the pub's hearth against the raging winds outside. He'd tune in to the rain pattering and delve into his phone calls. Every so often, he would look over to her, perched on a bar stool, pint in hand, reading a book she'd discovered. He would admire her beauty and then she would catch him. They would lock eyes for an innocence-shattering moment. Her eyebrow would arch and in a moment she would be opposite him. In a faux-protest his work would be discarded and then it would be so simple. Two young, attractive adults just enjoying each other's company. And then...

It was a good thing she hadn't heard. He couldn't afford to be distracted. This phone call with Germany had been months in the making. Matt's special project he had kept hidden from his team. Their golden opportunity. Matt parked the car and grabbed his laptop.

Manobier's Castle Inn could have been the local in any British village. The week-day four o'clock crowd sparsely littered the bar, sipping in their aimless solitude. Matt was spared a half-hearted glance by the barman, who seemed more preoccupied on the daily crossword than greeting an unfriendly face. The young bar-assistant gave him a longer, lingering glance. She wasn't unattractive, the kind of unfortunate girl who the greying lechers would be too drunk to realise wasn't interested. Least of all in men her grandfather's age. He avoided her gaze. He wasn't into blondes, he much preferred brunettes...and auburns.

Matt took a booth in a secluded corner. There was wifi to his relief, though it was locked. They most likely wanted him to pay. He returned to the bar and cleared his throat. The barman huffed and in no rush at all straightened up. Matt ordered the cheapest cider and asked for the password.

"No." the barman said.

"Excuse me?"

"Wi-fi is fur staff and business use only. Cannae afford you sit-tay types using up the bandwidth when we need it fur payments."

Matt was no longer a patron of the Castle Inn. He'd left the pint of cider to the red-faced balding gentlemen attempting a tipsy round of darts. Stratford boys didn't waste good cider. Yet he now only had ten minutes until the Europeans were expecting him. A quick google maps search showed a promising cafe house only three minutes away. One minute later, he was stood panting outside the closed doors of the Beach Beak cafe.

Matt watched in horror as the meeting-time crept nearer. He couldn't even cancel. The German's contact details were all locked away on the online system. He sank to the curb, pressed his palms together and took in a deep breath. Think. There had to be a way he could contact the Germans. Just think. This was his future on the line. If only he hadn't been so secretive. Zara or Logan could have called it off otherwise. As it stood, he was the only one who knew...

The intern. The mother-fucking intern. What was his name? Something posh.

Charlie.

Charlie knew. He had produced reports on the Germans way back in the beginning. Perhaps he still had contact? It was a long shot, but worth a try. Matt typed out instructions to Charlie and hit send. He held there with bated breath as the 4:30 inched closer. The phone buzzed at 4:29 and Matt had never grabbed something so quickly in his life. A simple thumbs up from Owen.

Turns out interns had a use after all. It was almost enough for Matt to forgive the coffee incident. Matt's breath calmed. This was far from ideal but the crisis had been averted. He would drive back early tomorrow, call them back, make his apologies and then move onwards. Until then...for the first time in a long time, Matt had to relax.

Matt looked up to see Grace walking further down the highstreet. That auburn hair cut to her shoulders. She was beautiful. There were far worse people to be relaxing with. She looked up at him and smiled, with her bag in hand.

An image flashed before his eyes: her curled up on the sheep-skin rug by the fire, naked. Her dark brown eyes beckoning him. He felt something swell in his pants.

Oh god. He hoped he wasn't going to something regrettable.