A Cornish Affair

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Sorry for bombarding you with chapters again this week. Just finding more time to write than usual. Enjoy!

Once out of the busy streets of Newquay, the roads were empty as they made their way south towards Falmouth. Music played softly from the stereo and despite trying hard to remain awake, the gentle movement of the car, her late night the day before and the warmth that Rosie felt, all lulled her to sleep.

It wasn’t until she heard Ricky softly call her name that Rosie was aware they had arrived at his house. He was out of the car and opening her door before Rosie had fully come to. Ricky knelt next to her. "I've parked in the middle," he teased, "as we're not expecting anyone else!"

Rosie smiled, "Grumpy git man!" she said sleepily, as Ricky took her hand and helped her out of the car. She was unsteady on her feet and he caught her, bringing her around quickly as their faces were suddenly very close.

Ricky had the same feeling he'd had in the park, outside the Indian restaurant and at his flat. But he held himself back. He knew that he shouldn't do anything to pressure Rosie. He simply watched as she composed herself and rubbing her eyes, she smiled at him nervously.

"Sorry I wasn't much company," she apologised, stepping more steadily away from the door now. Ricky pushed it closed for her, telling her it didn't matter at all.

Going round to the back of the car, to the boot, Ricky pulled out her rucksack and put it over his own shoulder, as making their way to the gate, he saw Rosie punch in the number. She suddenly realised what she had done.

"I'm so sorry. How rude of me letting myself into your home!" she apologised.

"At least you remembered the number this time!" Ricky pushed the gate open and they walked through.

As if on some form of autopilot, Rosie headed straight for the steps leading down to the apartment. Ricky paused,  then followed, guessing this was where Rosie intended to spend the night. It was what he'd said afterall.  But just as she was about to take the first step, Rosie stopped.

"Oh!" She turned to Ricky, her face puzzled as to exactly what she should do.

"You best take this," Ricky said, dropping the rucksack from his shoulder. "I'll get the key."

Rosie watched in a daze as Ricky made his way down the steps first and retrieved the key from the safety box. He unlocked the door, returning to Rosie to take her rucksack from her once again and headed back through the front door.

Rosie took the steps gradually, her mind whirling. Should she stay down here?  Was Ricky expecting her to be in his house, in his bedroom even, with him?

By the time she had entered, Ricky had turned on the lights in the living area, switched on the kettle and was stood looking in the fridge.

"There's no milk I'm afraid," he gave her a cheeky wink. "Or orange juice!"

Rosie shook her head at him. "You do have a lovely new sofa though!" she retorted.

"I've never actually seen it since I ordered it," Ricky said looking at it for the first time. He turned back to the fridge. "I don't have milk upstairs either. I'm going to do some shopping in the morning." He shut the door, then breathed in deeply. "I would have a bottle of wine upstairs though!"

Wine. Wine meant alcohol. Alcohol meant the opportunity for Rosie to lose her inhibitions. No inhibitions meant a more relaxed Rosie. She needed to relax.

"Wine sounds good!" Rosie said finally, rubbing her hands together nervously.

"Great!" Ricky sounded surprised. "I'll just go up and grab a bottle.