Siren Spirit by Elizabeth M. Hurst

breaking through the thin curtains of the rented room so he figured he’d best get up. He shuffled to the bathroom and stared in the small shaving mirror. He tried his best to gel his hair just the way he liked it but it wasn’t playing the game this morning. Fuck it. There was a lot to catch up on today, now they had the site to themselves once again.
     

Chapter Twelve
     
    The patter of rain on the window brought Lewis to his senses. For some reason he couldn’t quite explain, he knew even before he opened his eyes that Emma had already left, but he turned his head for a glimpse nonetheless.
    He reached under the covers to the empty side of the bed. Cold. She had left a while ago, then. He sighed, then spotted the note on the bedside table.
     
    Morning,
    Sorry I had to dash.
    Em.
     
    No kiss. Was that significant? Perhaps. He wasn’t sure if his headache was as a result of the over-indulgence the previous night or of his thinking about the current situation. He rose to make a coffee and decided it was definitely the former.
    He knew he shouldn’t have slept with her. He really hoped he hadn’t screwed up a friendship with her, or a very promising anything else for that matter.
    As the kettle boiled, he stared out at his sodden garden. This weather had better clear up. All the jobs he had lined up at the moment were outdoors and he hated gardening in the rain. He also needed not to get too involved with Emma. He couldn’t risk all that hurt all over again. And from what she had told him, neither could she.
    He recalled the softness of her naked body against his as he kissed and caressed her, feeling her body wrap itself around him as he entered her. It had all felt so right, so natural, so … Uncomplicated. He wasn’t used to that. So many girls from his past had proved to be high maintenance and emotionally needy. Despite her recent break-up and the obvious heartbreak, Emma was a breath of fresh air.
    He took a quick shower to clear his head. A day’s work would sort him out, no doubt. A drop of rain would likely do him the world of good, especially if the landlady at The White Horse gave him a free lunch again.
    He threw on a tatty old pair of jeans and made his way back to the pub.
    “Morning, Lewis!”
    Gwen always looked so chipper, he thought to himself.
    “Morning. I was wondering if now would be a good time to finish off the job I started round the back, if Pete was about?”
    “Well, actually, love, he’s not up yet.” Gwen tossed her bottle-blonde hair over her shoulder and giggled. “It was rather a late one last night, you see. Speaking of which, I saw you with your lady friend. Is this a girlfriend at last?”
    “Oh, er …” He wasn’t prepared for questions about Emma just yet. Too awkward. “She’s new to the village, so I’m just showing her around really, you know.”
    “Well, you seemed to be getting on famously over dinner. I was sneaking a peek from the kitchen now and then. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.” She winked at him and Lewis tried to hide his discomfort. “I see you left before the bar closed as well. Not like you.”
    Her intonation seemed to beg an answer but he refused to engage with her banter. Gwen had flirted with him ever since the first time he walked in the pub when he moved to the village, and she made no secret of it in front of her husband either, which Lewis thought distinctly sluttish.
    “Well, I’ll go and see what Pete’s up to,” she said, turning on her leopard print heels and running up the stairs.
    Lewis shook his head. Gwen had a good heart, but she wasn’t the sharpest tool in the box.
    A cough from the corner of the pub startled him. He whipped his head round to see a man choking on a piece of toast.
    “My fault,” the guy said, after Lewis slapped him on the back. “I was just thinking how she seems to flirt with every man and gossip about every woman. Thank you.” He coughed for the last time and appeared to regain his