She shook her head. “You ignored me for over a week.”
“I didn’t ignore you.”
“You kept a lot of distance.”
He looked at the floor. “I know. I’m sorry. It was self-preservation. I didn’t like it when I thought you went on a date with someone else, and I didn’t like it when I wasn’t with you outside the bar. I’m not used to feeling like that.”
His honestly was knocking her sideways.
“There are two things we need to do.”
“Oral sex and…”
She shushed him with a hand over his mouth. “Trust each other and talk more.”
A kiss was pressed against the palm of her hand, before he turned them both so he was holding her. “Agreed. How about now we shower?”
“Maybe include the oral sex too.”
Jake picked her up off the bed, carrying her out of the bedroom and into the bathroom, where there was now an oversized walk-in shower, perfect for two people.
Perfect for all the dirty things she hoped he was planning to do to her.
Chapter Fifteen
It vibrated.
The colours, the sounds, the laughter. It all seemed to come together in a wave of vibrations that spun across the field and made the land come alive.
Jake knew his town. He knew about the legends and the myths, of the stories about the old bones embedded into the walls of the monastery and where they’d come from, of the ancient well and stories of miracles that had happened over a millennia ago. He knew about the ley lines and where they fell.
Severton was a town that fed itself from its festivals. The solstices and equinoxes were marked every year. As one festival ended, another started to be planned, thus keeping the world turning. Imbolc, Ostara, Beltane, Litha – Jake had grown up knowing far more about them than they ever taught in school. The celebration of the seasons and the land made him feel even more that he was meant to be in the place where he was born, which was why he’d never left.
And now he was adding something more to Severton: it’s very own music festival.
Eighteen months of planning, weeks of extra organisation, a good chunk of his own money to invest – which he was making back three-fold – and a slice of his heart that he’d given for free.
This was the result. A town of yurts had been built on the field he was standing in, rows and rows of spaced out super-tents, as Zack had christened them. Environmentally friendly toilets were placed at perimeters of the field, and there were water and drink stations dotted around, as well as a couple of first aid tents, because there was always someone stupid enough to end up with something broken.
Usually him.
He had the glamping field which was an all year-round thing, and two other fields where people could put up their own tents or sleep in camper vans. Another field was set out for the bands and any journalists, a few of which had tried – and failed – to wangle a freebie.
The stifling heat of yesterday had cooled to a gentle warmth after the storm. The air had been freshened by the rain, the oppressive humidity lifted.
“Looks good.” Marv, one of his managers folded his arms and looked impressed. “And away from the animals.”
That was Marv’s main concern – that the animals weren’t stressed in any way and he had his fields back in some sort of workable condition when everyone had left after the weekend. Monday and Tuesday were the exiting days. Wednesday was the start of the clean-up job, which was going to take a good few days. Then they’d re-plough the two general camping fields, the yurt village and the three fields being used for the stages.
“Once every couple of years. I promise it won’t be annual.” That had been the deal. His team could cope with something on this scale as long as they didn’t do it every year.
“You’ll come up with something equally mad for next year. I’d back a country show. We could do that no problem.” Marv nodded as if this was already going to happen.
“There’s the one that already happens on the common.”
“So suggest moving it here and making it bigger. It’d add a lot more back to the community. Think of the extra artists and sellers you could fit in.”
Jake shrugged, pleased with the idea because it had come from Marv, who was usually the last to look happy at anything that didn’t have something to do with livestock or breeding programmes. Marv’s background was cattle farming, which was why he was working for the Maynard Farms. He got to live his passion without the financial worry.
