“It’s not a normal smile. It’s fake.” His expression is black. “You clearly didn’t want Hamish anywhere near you. But you gave him this massive smile. Why?”
“I…” I think about it. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “It’s habit, I guess. I didn’t want to make him mad by being rude.”
Cameron looks at me for a long, long time. “What is wrong with you?” he asks eventually.
“Who can say!” I beam.
Isla thankfully breaks the tension by arriving with the food. My plate is heavy with a flaky pastry pie, mashed potatoes, and veg doused in gravy. Cameron waits for me to take my first bite and then picks up his own fork.
We eat the rest of the meal in total silence.
It should be blazingly awkward, but it’s actually kind of nice. Cameron clearly isn’t much of a talker, which means I don’t have to be bubbly and interesting. I can be quiet. I can’t remember the last time I got to be quiet with another person.
I feel him watching me as I eat. When I reach across to pick up my glass, his hand suddenly shoots out, big fingers wrapping around my wrist. His eyes fix on the faint scar on my forearm. “What happened here?”
For a moment, I can’t speak. I’m suddenly hyperaware of where our skin is touching. I feel a bit dizzy. “I fell off my bike when I was ten. Fractured my wrist, but I didn’t tell anyone, so it ended up healing badly, and I needed surgery.” Why is my heart going so fast?
“You didn’t tell anyone you broke your wrist?” he repeats.
“I didn’t want to annoy my mum. She’s a lawyer. Does a lot of really important abuse cases. I figured she had enough to deal with, so I didn’t want to bother her.”Thatturned out well. After a few weeks of gritting my teeth through the pain, I stopped being able to move my wrist at all.
Cameron is looking at me, mossy-green eyes flickering in the candlelight. “Your mum didn’t notice her kid’s wrist was broken?”
My cheeks flush. “She was super busy with work.” I pull my hand back. “Anyway…”
He looks like he wants to say something else, but his phone starts to ring.
I watch as he pulls an ancient mobile out of his jeans pocket, squints at it, and stabs to accept the call. “What?” There’s a pause. “Took her to the Dewdrop.” He looks out of the window. “We’re good on time.” Another pause, and irritation crosses his face. “We’re fine, Alec…Christ.Okay.” He ends the call and shoves the phone back into his pocket.
“Everything okay?” I ask, licking gravy off my spoon.
His eyes drop to my mouth for a second and then away. “He’s worried about the storm. Wants us back at the farm.” He stands. “Let’s go.”
Cameron is silent on the dark drive back to the farm. The wind is picking up, the rain getting heavier as it slides down the windows. When we finally park up, my eyes widen as I see the cabin.
As in. I canseethe cabin. Someone has set up a path of little lights towards the front porch, and the exterior walls have been fitted with two big golden lanterns.
“Lights,” I exclaim as Cameron kills the engine.
“Thought it might stop you from falling and killing yourself.” He gets out of the car, comes to my side, and opens my door for me.
I undo my seat belt. “You put them up? Where did they come from, though?”
“…The shop,” he says, like I’m a bit thick.
“Like, you went and bought them? Today?”
He just looks at me.
Something clicks in my brain. “Oh my God.” I realise. “You’re nice, aren’t you?”
He scowls, pulling my shopping bags out of the back seat.
I can’t believe I didn’t realise this before. “You’re really nice,” I say, stepping into the mud. He moves his weight, automatically shielding me from the wind and the rain. “You act so grumpy, but you’ve been so nice to me ever since I arrived.”
He let me extend my stay. Brought me breakfast so I didn’t have to cook. Gave me his coat and took me to dinner. Sure, he’s never actuallysmiledat me…but actions speak louder than words, right? And I know better than anyone that smiles don’t mean anything.
He locks the car door and stomps up towards the cabin.
