“Oh man,” I moan, scrubbing my face with my hand as I carry on walking. “I’ve never eaten food with a name before.”
His low laugh makes my skin warm and my insides feel all gooey. I should be embarrassed by the fact that he’s turnedme into the human equivalent of a roasted marshmallow, but I like this feeling too much.
“It’s the best sort,” he says, falling into step beside me. “If someone cares enough to name an animal, you’d better believe they cared for them while they were alive too. Ramsay had a good life on the farm before he made it to your plate, which is more than can be said for anything you buy at the supermarket.”
“I suppose you’re right.”
“I know I’m right.”
We reach my front door and Anders turns to face me under the porch lights, his gaze drifting to my forehead.
“You’ve got some dirt.” He lifts his hand as if to rub it away and then changes his mind and lets his arm drop, but I still feel the buzz of hisalmost-touch.
“Where?” My fingers land on something gritty almost immediately. “Anders!” I berate him. “Why didn’t you tell me earlier? I sat there that whole time next to your mother with muck on my face.”
“She wouldn’t have noticed. She’s a farmer’s wife, she doesn’t even see dirt anymore.”
“Is it gone?” I ask.
He scans my forehead and then searches the rest of my face, causing my blood to hum with electricity as his eyes find mine. He gives me a small nod.
Damn, I fancy him.
He starts suddenly. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yes! Thanks again for your help with Bambi today,” I say as he backs away.
“Pleasure.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes again as he turns and jogs downthe steps. Nor does he look back. I know because I watch and wait until he’s out of sight.
Anders is stillvery much on my mind the next day as I sit at my new desk in my bedroom, trying to get some work done.
My boss, Graham, has sent over the details of the tender drawings for the primary school extension and, as I study them, I realize that the services engineer must have specified more room around the heat pump in the plant room because my predecessor, Raj, has sacrificed a utility cupboard to make the space bigger.
I was involved in the initial briefing stage when we interviewed the staff to get their input, and the cleaner, Jerry, a forty-something dude with a mullet and bad breath, nattered away for almost an hour. If he doesn’t get his broom cupboard, he’s going to be pissed.
I work away at reconfiguring the internal design, knowing that if I steal space from the classrooms, the teachers and board members won’t be happy either. It’s a balancing act, but I solve it by skimming a few inches here and there.
I love my temporary office space. Dad and I went into town this morning and I couldn’t believe it when we found this desk in a tiny furniture shop. We tried the place on a whim—we were actually on our way to Walmart—and it’s simple but stylish, with moss-green metal hairpin legs and a birch-ply top. It’s small enough to fit perfectly in one of the dormer windows, but big enough to hold a desktop lamp, my laptop, and a tray. Luckily, I never travel anywhere without my MacBook Pro, otherwise this remote-working plan wouldn’t be unfolding quite so well. And I mention the tray because Sheryl brought one up a moment agowith a coffee and a freshly baked peach, vanilla, and almond muffin and there was just enough room for it to be set down.
I check my emails and find a long, chatty one from Mum and another from Sabrina, a friend who is due to get married in October. She’s cc’ed me in with a bunch of mates about her plans for her hen weekend.
Sabrina and her fiancé, Lance, are the only two properly mutual friends that Scott and I have and I’ve felt a bit in limbo with them since Scott broke off our engagement. But so far, Sabrina seems to be in my corner and Lance is in Scott’s.
I don’t know how long that can last, though. They won’t be able to exclude Nadine forever, if she and Scott remain a couple. And I don’t suppose they’ll tell Scott that he can’t bring her to their wedding. I may be feeling a bit better about our breakup, but I still can’t imagine going on my own and seeing them there together.
I click on an email from my colleague Freddie, and discover that he’s feeling guilty about taking over Lucinda Beale’s extension. He wants to know that I’m okay with it and I assure him that I am. I might have been annoyed initially, but now, as I look across the gently undulating green fields that stretch all the way to the horizon, and the hazy cornflower-blue sky that’s dotted with puffy white clouds, I’m scarcely able to believe how lucky I am.
Sometimes, I think as I tuck into the muffin,life really does give you peaches.
Anders was supposedto be bringing Bambi back today, but as the morning wears on with no word from him, my nerves start to feel a little frayed.
I’m attracted to him. More than I care to admit. And after the way he looked at me last night, I’m not entirely sure that the feeling isn’t the tiniest bit mutual after all. So why hasn’t he got in touch as he said he would?
I bite the bullet and text him.
Are you still okay to bring Bambi back this afternoon?
