The Love Island Bookshop by Kate Frost (ebook reader with internet browser .TXT) 📕

hairs on the back of her neck prickling. The feeling of contentment she’d had after a good night’s sleep and breakfast in front of the ocean, faded away as worry took over. Aaron had been right there with her. She thought he’d gone to get help – she’d asked him to, she was sure of it. Where had he gone? Why hadn’t he come back? It was Zander who’d been there stopping her from going back into the burning building. Help had arrived. There had been people there to put out the flames, but by that time the damage had been done and so many of the books had been lost, not to mention the destruction of the building itself.

And now she thought about it, she had a reason for being at the bookshop that late in the evening, but why had Aaron been there?

Chapter Twenty-Four

The idea that Aaron hadn’t raised the alarm gnawed away at Freya. He hadn’t come back to help either, so what had he done? They cleared away the remains of their brunch and went inside Zander’s villa, both of them lost in their thoughts.

A Maldivian woman, dressed in a pale grey shift-style dress, with a welcoming face was in the kitchen. She took the tray from Zander and beamed at Freya.

‘Freya, this is my wonderful housekeeper, Maryam.’

‘It’s lovely to meet you, Freya,’ Maryam said in fluent English with a lilting accent. ‘I’m very happy you’re okay after everything that happened. I’m glad to see the beachwear fits you perfectly.’

‘Oh, thank you so much for sorting this out for me.’

She nodded. ‘It’s no problem. Your clothes are clean – they’re folded on the arm of the sofa.’

‘Thank you, Maryam.’ Zander kissed the top of her head.

‘Yes, thank you so much.’

‘If you’re feeling up to it, Freya, let’s take a walk and see the damage.’

~

Freya kept on the new bikini but changed back into the cropped trousers and vest top from the day before, now freshly washed, sweet smelling and crease-free. She didn’t know what to do with the beach cover-up, so she left it neatly folded on the armchair in the guest bedroom. She made the bed too, not wanting to leave it messy, not really wanting to leave at all. She faltered by the door to soak up the perfect ocean view one last time before going back downstairs to meet Zander.

They walked together across Driftwood Cove and beneath the trees to the left of the beach. It was a path of sorts, a narrow leaf-covered track twisting a short distance past the slender trunks of ficus and palm trees and back on to another wide sweeping beach that Freya recognised as Sunset Beach. She glanced back. There was no sign of a path being there at all, just the lush green screen of palms and bushes, and a beach hibiscus, its red leaves carpeting the sand.

‘Your place is so well hidden; I had no clue you lived back there.’

‘My secret hideout, and totally intentional. I like my privacy.’

Freya caught up with him, her feet sinking into the sand as she matched his stride. She liked that he craved privacy. It was surprising considering how much of his life had been played out in the public eye. In the past at least. Last night at the bookshop and again this morning, he’d taken her by surprise, showing a side she hadn’t expected. It must be exhausting to be scrutinised constantly and to have had his whole life talked about and documented.

They stuck to the trees edging the beach. It was well past midday and the sun was scorching, so they kept to what little shade the trees provided. Freya could smell the smoke before they were close enough to see the bookshop. They left the beach and entered the clearing. They stopped in unison and looked at the devastation. It was worse in daylight, or maybe she’d been so full of shock the night before, there hadn’t really been time to take everything in.

‘I’m so sorry, Zander.’ She automatically reached for his hand and squeezed it.

He squeezed hers back. ‘You’ve got to stop apologising. None of this is your fault. Come on, let’s go and see what you managed to save.’

She dropped his hand, suddenly conscious of her over-familiar gesture. She followed him up the sandy path from the bit of beach that she’d gazed out at most days since she’d arrived.

Half of the roof had gone, either burnt or collapsed in on itself. The decking with its sunken seating and fire pits was intact but it was covered in ash and bits of broken wood. Books lay scattered across it where they’d fallen. She may have saved as many books as she could, but she wondered how many of them had survived intact. The fresh scent of the bed linen and the ocean that she’d woken up to that morning had been replaced by the acrid smell of smoke.

‘Are you okay?’ Zander ran his hand lightly down her arm.

She looked up at him, concern written in his furrowed brow. ‘Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just the reality of it. Even after seeing it burn last night, I wasn’t expecting it to look like this.’

‘I was expecting it to look worse in daylight. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to – you can go back and rest if you like?’

‘No, I’m fine really. I’ll gather the books.’

Zander’s fingers brushed against her skin. He nodded towards the destroyed bookshop. ‘I’m going to go talk to Hassan. He’s been here most of the night.’

Freya watched him continue across the clearing and pat Hassan on the back. Hassan looked exhausted, his usual smiley face etched with a frown, his face glowing through the sweat and dirt. She walked to the edge of the seating area. Most of the debris had been cleared into a pile. The sand around the damaged side of the bookshop was waterlogged, the usually pristine white grains stained by ash. The books