One Hot Summer: A heartwarming summer read from the author of One Day in December

‘She’s a bit bonkers,’ Niamh supplied, drawing a spiral in the air beside her temple.

Hazel tossed Niamh daggers over her shoulder and then swung back to Robinson again. ‘Mother nature is here, can you feel her energy flowing between us, Robinson? You’re a male pole, and I’m a female connector. We should …’

‘Uncool, Mother. So uncool,’ Ewan interrupted hastily, standing up. ‘You’re practically mounting him. Give him some space, man.’ He stepped between his mother and a relieved-looking Robinson and stuck out his hand in the unsure way only a teenager can. He might not be a country music fan, but he was as awed as everyone else to be in the company of someone usually seen only on TV or magazine covers.

‘Mr Duff,’ he said formally, more like a forty-year-old businessman than a seventeen-year-old student. Robinson took his hand and shook it warmly.

‘Call me Robinson,’ he said, turning Ewan’s cheeks pink for the second time that afternoon.

‘And you’ve met Alice,’ Stewie said, still trying to hold on to his role as circus master.

‘I have indeed had the pleasure of Alice’s company already,’ Robinson said, finally looking her way. His rich, honeyed drawl gave nothing of his mood away and his expression was difficult to read. She didn’t know him well enough yet to be able to tell if he was okay with this minor invasion, bemused by it, or even annoyed.

‘Don’t just stare at him, girl,’ Stewie laughed loudly, edging towards hysterically bombastic. ‘Get the man a drink. Whisky, Robbie?’

Robinson glanced at his watch. ‘Might be a little on the early side for me.’

‘Coffee?’ Alice suggested instead, reaching another cup down.

Stewie led Robinson over to the recliner he’d recently vacated himself, dusting it off for dramatic effect and then bowing low to indicate the new king of Borne should take his rightful throne. It would have been quite theatrical had it not been for the fact that he bowed so low that his Elvis wig fell off and plopped into the deckchair in front of him like an errant guinea pig. Stewie styled it out, retrieving it whippet quick and slapping it on his head back to front as he straightened up.

Alice stepped across the camp and handed Robinson his coffee, bending her knees in the smallest of maid-like gestures. ‘Coffee, m’lord,’ she said, handing him the mug. ‘I think I might have a plastic crown somewhere …’ she added, earning herself a narrow-eyed look from her tenant. He looked as if he was about to say something but was distracted by the arrival of Niamh on his left and Hazel on his right, each perched on an upturned bucket, his unlikely pair of handmaidens.

‘Can I say I love your music?’ Niamh said, thoroughly starry eyed. ‘I saw you live a couple of years ago, in Manchester? You might remember me; I was the one at the front with the banner that said “I’ll be your Mrs Robinson”.’

‘Here’s to you,’ Stewie said, raising his glass.

‘I think you’ll find Mrs Robinson was a more mature woman, actually,’ Hazel said, lowering her voice until she was almost at an Eartha Kitt growl, then licked her lips and pulled the clip from her long dark hair and shook it out wildly. ‘I recently celebrated my fiftieth earth year, and I have to say I’ve never felt more intimately in touch with my body.’

Ewan dropped his face into his hands and groaned. Stewie, however, perked right up.

‘In my professional opinion, older women have a lot to offer a younger man.’

Given that Stewie had been one of the most prolific porn stars of the seventies, Alice really didn’t want Stewie to take that line of conversation any further. She was saved from having to throw herself into the breach by Robinson, who cleared his throat to get everyone’s attention. Even Pluto stopped hopefully nosing his ball around the floor and laid his chin on Robinson’s knee.

‘Guys, listen. I know we’ve all only just met and all, but I need to ask y’all to help me out.’

Niamh and Hazel looked ready to throw themselves off the nearest cliff if Robinson asked it of them, and Stewie didn’t look far behind. He barely even noticed when Alice reached out and turned his Elvis wig the right way around for him.

‘I’d appreciate it if I could count on your discretion about me being here. I’m hoping to keep it on the down low if I can, you know?’

They all nodded gravely.

‘Your secret’s safe with us,’ Stewie drawled, possibly not even aware that he’d slipped into an American accent.

Niamh nodded and drew an imaginary zip across her lips, and Hazel crossed her hands over her heart and dropped her head.

‘You guys are the best, thank you.’ Robinson stood to leave, and Alice grimaced as Hazel reached out and almost stroked his jean-clad backside.

‘See y’all soon,’ he said, tipping an imaginary Stetson and strolling away towards the manor. Alice found herself wondering how he’d look if the Stetson had been real.

‘Did anyone even bother to ask him for sugar?’ Ewan muttered, pulling a face as he took a mouth full of his lukewarm coffee then tipped it out on the grass.

CHAPTER SIX (#ulink_2d0905e8-c91e-5830-a859-5ca06a60b0f7)

Alice tapped the back door of the manor later that afternoon, slightly nervous that Robinson might not be talking to her after the inaugural meeting of the Robinson ‘Robster’ Duff fan club.

‘It’s open,’ his voice carried through the open window, and Alice pushed the door, taking a moment to appreciate the way the familiar old handle felt in her hand. Every little last thing about Borne Manor was beloved, from the smoothness of the worn oak banister to the creak of the floorboards on the third step of the attic stairs. As she’d closed her eyes to sleep in the caravan last night she’d walked slowly through the rooms in her head, savouring, remembering, and making herself believe that one day she’d live there again. She just needed some time, and for her glamping plan to work.

‘It’s only me,’ she called out, kicking off her boots by the door and walking through the kitchen into the hallway in time to find Robinson jogging down the staircase barefoot in just his jeans. Unsure whether to be flustered or cool, Alice opened her mouth to say something and then closed it again, because the only words in her head were oh my god I’ve never seen a six-pack in real life before. His tousled hair was darkened by dampness, and the towel in his hand confirmed his just out of the shower status.

‘I know. I saw you coming from upstairs,’ he said, absolutely unfazed by the fact that he was half dressed. Alice was finding it difficult to be so laissez faire, given the fact that his skin was the kind of deep burnished gold that only a lifetime spent in the sunshine can give a man and the light covering of hair that trailed down his torso disappeared into his low-slung jeans like a fishing line that made you want to see what was at the end of it. God, she needed to pull herself together. What was happening to her? Her emotions were all over the place since the move into the Airstream, all of the upheaval seemed to have given her libido a scandalised kick up the backside as far as Borne’s newest resident was concerned. It felt strange and confusing to be heartbroken over one man and lustful over another at the same time, all topsy-turvy and wrong.

‘I wanted to apologise about earlier,’ she said, following him back into the kitchen, biting her lip at the sight of his naked shoulders. She couldn’t help it. She was a broad-shoulders girl, and Robinson’s were world class. They did things, odd things to her insides. Maybe it was her inner cavewoman, but seeing a good pair of shoulders made her want to be thrown over them and carried up the stairs.

‘Don’t sweat it,’ he said, opening the fridge and pulling out a couple of beers. ‘Beer?’

Did she want to drink beer with the half naked and totally gorgeous superstar hiding out in her manor? Oh, go on then.

If only Brad could see her now, he’d rue the day he decided to screw her over with Felicity bloody Shaw. Robinson knocked the lids from the bottles and handed her one, then reached casually for the T-shirt he’d draped over the radiator and slid it over his head. Bye then, shoulders. Bye then, abs. Alice bid them a silent farewell as they disappeared beneath the dark cotton. Did he have his clothes made for him, she wondered, noticing the way the material seemed to cling to every slope and angle of him.

‘I didn’t run around the village announcing your arrival,’ she said, leaning against the Aga as she always had. ‘I only told Niamh, and that was sort of by accident really because I looked you up on her laptop.’ Too late, she realised that she’d made herself sound like a stalker. ‘It was just that your name rang a bell and I wasn’t sure why,’ she added in an attempt to make it better, only of course she’d probably insulted him by saying she’d never heard of him. God, this was difficult! One of the benefits of being separated from Brad was that she no longer had to deal with the fragile egos of the famous, and here she was again. Closing her eyes, she tipped her head back and drank deeply from the bottle, and when she opened them he’d pulled out a stool at the breakfast bar and perched on it.

‘Niamh who paints naked men, right?’

Alice grinned. ‘Amongst other things. She’s brilliant, actually, my best friend in the village.’

Robinson drank from his bottle, tipping his head back, drawing Alice’s eyes to the way his throat moved as he swallowed. Slapping down the Mills and Boon heroine in her head, she looked away until he spoke again. She was in a spot of trouble here. Maybe one of the classic symptoms of heartbreak was inappropriate lust for the first good-looking stranger to come your way.

‘What’s Stewie’s story?’

Alice started to laugh. ‘I haven’t seen his Elvis wig before, it must be new.’

‘He has more than one wig?’

‘God, yes. He’s got loads,’ Alice said. ‘He used to be quite a prolific actor.’

‘No way,’ Robinson said, looking interested. ‘Anything I’d know him from?’

‘Maybe, maybe not,’ Alice said, wondering how best to sum up Stewie’s colourful career. ‘If I tell you that he was professionally known as Stewie “The Snake” Heaven, you might get an idea of the kind of movies he starred in.’

Robinson started to laugh, that sexy, crooked smile lighting up his whole face as it had the previous night. ‘Holy fuck. Naked painters and porn star neighbours. And there I was thinking this place was going to be dull.’

‘You missed out the fact that Hazel’s a practising witch,’ Alice said, spreading her hands. ‘Welcome to Borne, cowboy.’

He laughed under his breath and drank deeply from his beer. To Alice he looked every inch a guy in a bar kicking back, utterly relaxed. He tipped the neck of his bottle towards her.

‘And then there’s you, Goldilocks.’