Despite his earlier words, Tim decided to come back to the house with me for lunch. He dug some gammon steaks out of the fridge, I made chips in the air fryer, and by the time Mia stumbled in, hair unbrushed, we were almost ready to eat.
“I hate mornings,” she moaned, sinking into a seat and clutching the mug of coffee I’d made for her.
“Do you even know what a morning looks like?” Tim asked.
The back door opened, and he tensed.
“Is there a reason we’re not having duck à l’orange?” I asked him. “It’s not as if you’re short of the damn things, and it would stop them waking me at dawn.”
He grinned, and it didn’t fade even when Archer came into the kitchen. “I have no idea why we’ve never done that,” Tim said. “I’ll add oranges to our next grocery shop.”
That started a bickering match between him and Mia about whowas responsible for the grocery shop, which left me to turn my full attention to Archer. The man was my walking wet dream in any circumstances, but today he was wearing a faded t-shirt that pulled across his chest and revealed hard muscle in his arms. As he passed me to wash his hands at the sink, I breathed in deeply. Healwayssmelled good, but today there was warmth and fresh sweat as well as metal and smoke. And oh my God, my cock had decided to make its feelings known.
“Lunch?” I squeaked, and started dumping chips onto plates Tim had put out.
Chapter Eleven
ARCHER
I usually worked through the day because leaving my forge lit and unattended would be asking for disaster. Today, I put out the fire shortly after my alarm went off, and headed to the house. I’d have liked a shower before lunch as I wasn’t going back into the workshop, but it appeared lunch was ready. More startlingly, Tim was there, and he was smiling. At Ollie, to be sure, but still—smiling.
Saying anything to him would be the fastest way to get him to leave, so I ignored his presence and snagged a chip that had fallen onto the worktop where Ollie was strewing them around like chaff in the wind. He slapped my hand, and then froze, staring at me in horror.
“Shit,” he said.
I couldn’t help it—I laughed, before stealing another one, daring him to say anything about it. The relief on his face was marred by…
“You’ve got dirt in your hair.” I reached to pick it out before realising what I was doing. Crap. “There’s a mirror in the hall,” I added swiftly.
Ollie left the room at high speed, and I turned to see Tim and Mia exchanging meaningful glances. Tim’s eyebrows appeared to be making a bid for freedom from the top of his head.
“I’ll be taking Ollie to meet everyone this afternoon,” I told them. “You’re welcome to come if you’d like.” I aimed my words between them. I thought if I looked at Tim, it would all go wrong, but if I ignored his presence completely, it would go equally wrong.
“Got too much to do,” he said, sitting down with a thump. He made that sound like my fault. Which it was. If only I could make enough money to have someone come and help him with the kitchen garden.
“In that case, I’ll fill you in over lunch on what was discussed at the moot,” I said, to his evident surprise.
It was the first time Mia and Ollie had the full picture as I told them details of what had been discussed.
“Do you think things are really going to change?” Mia asked when I’d finished.
“Who knows? I didn’t expect most of them to agree to as much as they have. I guess it depends in part on how well this experiment goes.”
“No pressure, then,” Ollie said.
“It’s on me more than you to make this work,” I told him, because I didn’t want Ollie to carry that burden. “When we’re in town, we can pick up whatever you need for your stay here. My credit card’s at your disposal.” I hadn’t missed the fact he was wearing the same clothes as yesterday.
“Thanks.” That wide, brilliant grin flashed out again. “But my head of family’s given me some money to cover the cost. I just need a way to get to the shops.”
Despite Ollie’s smile, the atmosphere at the table had changed. Tim was digging into his food with a force which suggested that, yet again, I’d upset him.
“So, Ollie, what’s your style when you’re not mooting?” Mia asked, and the fake enthusiasm in her voice suggested I wasn’t alone in noticing the atmosphere.
She and Ollie began an interminable discussion over whether or not moot could be used in that way, and long before they’d stopped entertaining themselves with their, admittedly amusing, nonsense, Tim left.
I should be thankful that he’d turned up at all—it was a rarity these days. But instead of relief, I felt the sting of betrayal. When I thought about my family splitting, it had never occurred to me that my own brother might join the other side.
The realisation of how profoundly I’d failed hit like a gut punch. But there was no going back from the mistakes I’d made. I’d have to live with the consequences, whether I was ready or not.
