She agreed. ‘Not sure my waistline could withstand one of these every week.’
Her waistline, and the rest of her for that matter, looked pretty fine to him.
She’d leaned against the cottage next to him and when he looked, she’d closed her eyes the same way he had until he was interrupted. He hoped she’d stay that way too; it gave him a chance to take in her features – the face that if he used his fingers to draw would outline a heart, skin he wondered what it would feel to touch if he ever got close enough to kiss her. He did his best not to stare at the way her shirt caressed her collar bones and the top button threatened to come undone.
He looked away when she came to again as though she’d remembered where she was. ‘Your dad thinks you came out here to coax Gillian into trying to get him a spot in the home she’s in.’
Nate smiled. ‘I wouldn’t go that far. But I did ask her about it.’ He shrugged, hands still in his pockets, one foot lifted against the wall behind him. ‘I wanted to know, that’s all. He knows I’m going to try to be more like he is and let things unfold. Hard, though.’
She looked across at him and smiled. ‘I know. All you want is for your loved ones to be happy. It’s what I wanted for Mum.’
‘You were selfless to put your plans on hold.’ It said a lot about her as a person. ‘Not everyone would’ve done it.’ He hadn’t intended to change much about his own life until he’d come back here for an extended period and now… well, things were beginning to look a little different.
She suddenly stepped away from the wall and swished a hand across her neck. ‘Is there something on me?’ She lifted silky dark hair he longed to run his fingers through so he could inspect her neck. ‘Please tell me there isn’t. Quick, tell me.’
He moved closer, his fingers at the back of her collar. ‘Nothing there. I think it was just the ivy.’ But his fingers didn’t move away instantly and he felt her shiver beneath his touch.
She turned and looked up at him. ‘Just the ivy,’ she repeated on a sigh.
He reached out and hooked her hair behind her ear on the side where the breeze was pushing it across her face. ‘It might have been your hair.’
‘Maybe.’
The way she was looking at him, it would be so easy to dip his head and kiss her. Do what he’d wanted to do for such a long time. ‘I can’t do this, Morgan.’ And with a step back he moved away. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘No…’ Flustered, she said, ‘I’m sorry.’ She headed for the front door.
‘Morgan, I—’
‘Honestly, Nate, it doesn’t matter. Let’s go join the others.’
And reluctantly, he did just that. He couldn’t make a move on another man’s girl but part of him wished he’d lowered his standards and kissed her anyway.
Because now all he could do was wonder what it would be like. And wondering felt like a form of torture.
14
Morgan flung open the windows at Forget-Me-Not Cottage. In her summer pyjamas – yellow and white daisy shorts and top this time – she stood at the window in the lounge, looking out over the village green. It was another beautiful day, the sun shining, a light breeze making the forget-me-nots in the garden flutter their morning greeting. A group of youngsters were playing frisbee already and the high street looked as though it had already recommenced Monday business following a lazy weekend, with cars parking up and people milling about.
Moving away from the open windows and the fresh breeze any house owner welcomed in the summer when their home had been closed up all night, it was time to get her head around work and away from Nate. But it wasn’t easy.
After she and Ronan had talked and she’d had a long cry, Morgan had decided that for now, she’d keep the news of the break-up to herself. And so she’d said nothing at the dinner at Snowdrop Cottage and she’d kept her engagement ring on so that nobody would suspect a thing. She needed time to process, time on her own. She wanted to get her head straight before she leapt into anything.
The great thing about freelancing was that you could fit it around your own schedule. It was all too easy to put off the workload with other distractions but when she had bills to pay and a house to look after until formalities were finalised, she was good at multitasking and focusing when she needed to. With her laptop resting on her knees as she settled herself on the sofa, she began to read her research notes. She’d got enough of them now to pull together a decent article using quotes from interviewees and information she’d gathered to write an article about mood boosting and immunity. She wondered if there were any cure-alls for emotional distress, a break-up and also falling fast for someone too soon after you’d broken off your engagement. But she doubted it.
An hour into her work, the phone ringing grabbed her attention away. As predicted, it was Tegan. Nobody else called the landline. ‘How’s life on the farm?’
‘Fine,’ said Tegan, but there was a little giggle too.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘I’m not at the farm.’
And then she heard it, a giggle not only down the phone in one ear but on the other side of her. And there was her sister, standing at the open front window. ‘Well, are you going to let me in?’ Tegan asked unnecessarily into the phone.
Morgan leapt up, and when she opened the front door, the sisters flung their arms around one another. Morgan savoured the moment.
They talked in such a rush that they each had to multitask – talk and listen, listen and talk, words clashing over one another until finally, with a cup of peppermint tea each, they sat at the kitchen table, sharing the Eccles cakes Tegan had picked up from the bakery before she came here. Tegan’s husband had managed to get the in-laws to come in and help on the farm and with the kids to give Tegan time to come here and be with her sister, do some more of the sorting out, and have a good forty-eight hours, just the two of them.
