Early on Saturday morning Sophie crouched over the toilet bowl. Even hungover she felt better than she did now as her stomach performed internal gymnastics. Her guts jerked and the mere thought of collecting her things from Derek’s place made her head spin. She uncoiled her fingers from the white porcelain and raked her fingers through her hair.
Get a grip, Sophie.
Matthew was scheduled to arrive at any moment. She was sure to have pale skin, unkempt hair and bloodshot eyes from lack of sleep. She must look much like the resident vampire.
The last time she’d seen Matthew was when she’d been dragging him of her house, when he’d been still quite drunk. Drunk or not, he’d latched onto the fact that he was picking her up for the big move.
She stood up from the toilet bowl, unsteadily at first, and then strode to the bathroom sink. She grabbed her toothbrush and vigorously scrubbed her teeth. She scraped her tongue. She might look like a zombie but no one would accuse her of having rank breath.
Her hands shook as she applied makeup, drawing strokes of eyeliner. She perched between the cartons and suitcases. As she curved on lipstick, her gaze darted around the room. For the first time she acknowledged the half unpacked boxes. Temporary had become permanent. She’d better start getting used to the situation.
She feverishly brushed her long, brown hair. When was the last time she had had a cut? Her hair hung long and straight, to the middle of her back. Not one strand was frizzy. Yet she’d sported the same look for ages. Admittedly her style was conservative, though she wasn’t completely old fashioned. It had been years since she’d last worn a scrunchie or considered hair crimping.
The doorbell rang. Sophie rushed from her room and opened the front door. Matthew stood on the landing, as gorgeous as ever. Her stomach instantly tied itself into knots and she shook off the anxiety that urged her to rush back to the loo.
Matthew wore jeans. The same sexy jeans from the other night when she’d flirted outrageously with him.
“Morning,” he said.
She closed the front door and scanned the street outside. “Where’s the Porsche?” she asked, looking round for his hot car. She hadn’t spoken to him about the practicalities of moving with a Porsche. Every girl loved to ride around in a Porsche, didn’t they? Sophie was no different. Who cared if they had to take a few trips backwards and forwards?
“I have a car habit,” he said and he gestured to a huge black Range Rover.
“That’s such a man thing to say.” She laughed and he laughed back. She nodded, remembering he was a multimillionaire. Matthew probably had six rare vehicles in his mansion’s garage. A Lamborghini was probably sitting there right now. “I drive a Beetle myself.”
“We can drive your Beetle if you like? I don’t mind.” Matthew replied. “Although, I might have more space in my car.”
“Sounds like a plan.” She surveyed Matthew’s manly, four wheel drive vehicle. “I’d be thrilled if you drove. Thanks.”
He opened the passenger door and indicated that she should climb in. He then went round the other side and leapt in himself.
Sophie buckled in and suddenly felt a stab of concern. She swallowed.
“You feeling alright?” he asked, searching her face.
Sophie’s cheeks turned pink with embarrassment. “Sure.” Yet her voice quavered as she replied.
The car accelerated and they were on their way to Derek’s place. Sophie watched as he shifted the gear stick.
Panic suddenly gripped her as the car careered down the empty streets. “We’re going to be early,” Sophie murmured. “He won’t have left for football practice yet.”
“There’s no traffic,” Matthew answered.
“Should we ride around the block or something?” Sophie asked.
“I’ve got a better idea. I’ll take you out for the best coffee in town.”