Leaving the box of clips in the car, she followed the noise.
One side of the barn was sectioned off, and the floor was covered in straw. Two long-necked furry animals stood chewing in the enclosure. Their big, dark eyes, surrounded by the longest eyelashes Allie had ever seen, watched her enter.Oh! The darlings!One of the alpacas was dark brown, the other a pale grey. What had Tarryn said about them? She couldn’t remember if they were friendly, but if Tarryn was going to let her meet them, she thought it would be okay. Cautiously, she approached their stall, crooning nonsense in a low voice. The grey one stood her ground, watching with a curious expression, but the brown one flattened her ears and moved away.A bit like her owner.
Allie stood by the bar forming the side of the stall and held out her hand. The grey alpaca—was that Ally or Elly?—came closer until she reached out and blew hot breath over Allie’s hand. Apparently satisfied Allie was a friend, she took the final few steps and allowed Allie to stroke her fuzzy neck.
The whooshing noise stopped, and both alpacas swung their heads in that direction. Allie turned too. Tarryn had her back to them, peeling off heavy gauntlets and lifting away a protective face mask. The structure in front of her was of a great bird in mid stride. The neck, body, and long legs were complete, but there was no head. Allie caught her breath. Even headless, the sculpture was recognisable as an emu, and the metalwork contained a caught-in-motion exuberance. Allie imagined it, wreathed in early-morning mist in Silver Creek Park. It was beautiful—and perfect for the park.
She walked toward Tarryn, calling out a hello.
Tarryn swung around, and her face cracked a small smile. “So you found me. Good.”
“Your directions were good. Interesting place you’ve got here.” Allie subdued her reaction to that small smile, pushing down her own answering one. This was business. Nothing more. She waved at what she could now see was a workshop area filled with stacks of rusting iron and half-finished sculptures.
“Is ‘interesting’ a polite way of saying I live in a junk yard?” Tarryn’s smile widened.
“Maybe.” Allie returned her smile as a feeling of relief thrummed through her. Only now did she let herself admit she’d been worried about the visit. But Tarryn didn’t seem to hold a grudge from their last meeting. “This is amazing.” She walked around to the other side of the emu and bent to see how the “feathers” were made with overlapping steel plate. “It must have taken a long time to do this.”
“Longer than I’d like—but I’ve been busy with other things.”
Of course. “Hopefully you’ll have some more time soon.”
“That’s the idea. I won’t take on any extra work for a while after Gay Bells.” She put down her gloves on a bench. “You’ve brought the clips?”
“In the car. I’ll get them.”
“Thanks.” Tarryn hesitated. “Would you like a coffee? I was about to stop for one.”
An olive branch? Whatever it was, a coffee would be welcome. “I’d like that, thank you.”
“When you’ve got the clips, come through there”—she pointed to a door half-hidden by a pile of rusty barbed wire—“and I’ll put the kettle on.”
Tarryn’s living space was more spacious than it appeared from the outside and cosy from a pot-belly stove pumping heat into the room, A kitchen area took up one corner with long benches of polished steel and a metal “tree” holding all manner of pots and pans on its branches. The tree spread overlapping metal leaves over the ceiling above the stove—no doubt to reflect rising heat back into the room. The effect was both beautiful and practical.
Tarryn reached for coffee mugs. Freed of the heavy welding gloves, her bare arms were smooth and tan with a defined crease of muscle at her biceps. Her iron-grey hair was cropped even closer to her head—she must have found time to have a trim. Or maybe she did it herself—the tight curls had the even look of clippers.Nice. Allie let her gaze run back down from Tarryn’s neat hair, along the strong ridge of nose, down to her surprisingly soft and sensual-looking lips. Strange how such a strong and angular woman as Tarryn had such pillowy lips.
A flash of Allie’s one and only kiss with another woman leaped into her mind. What was the woman’s name? Her mind drew a blank, but those lips had been as soft as clouds as she’d teased Allie’s upper, then lower, lip with her own. There’d been a flick of tongue, a taste, a delicate sip, and Allie’s hands had tightened convulsively on the woman’s waist even as she’d pushed a hand into Allie’s hair and her lips had coaxed Allie’s apart and her tongue—
Allie jerked away from the memory. Yes, that kiss had been amazing. But Allie’s motivation had been wrong. Unfair. She’d been purely looking for the experience of a same-sex kiss. It hadn’t been fair to the woman, even though she’d given her reasons beforehand. She’d still taken advantage of a situation, and the guilt from that wrongness had… Had what?
Tarryn was talking, saying something with a quizzical expression on her face.
“I’m sorry, I was miles away. What did you say?”Miles away reliving a kiss that shouldn’t have happened. Her face burned hot from more than the heat radiating from the pot-belly stove.
“I asked if you preferred a dark or medium roast.” Tarryn held up two coffee pods.
“Medium, please.” She shook herself back to the present and set the box of clips on the bench. “These clips will hold the banner over the street. The banner’s still in my car, plus there’s a box of yard signs for anyone who wants them. While you’re out and about, you can offer them.”
“Got it.” Tarryn busied herself with her pod coffee machine. “Did you sort out the portaloos?” She swung around to face Allie and raised an eyebrow.
“Not yet,” Allie admitted. Sophie had called to say her original supplier was trying to assist. “Hopefully tomorrow.” Guilt crawled in her chest. The error was Sophie’s—understandably so—and it very definitely wasn’t Tarryn’s fault. “I owe you an apology.”
“You do, yes. I didn’t enjoy being treated like an idiot in front of my friends.”
“I’m sorry.” How much should she say? The truth would make her—Sophie and her business—look incompetent. But Tarryn deserved some explanation. She bit her lip. “Soph—I— drafted an email to you with the second to-do list, but there was a typo in your address, and you wouldn’t have received it.”
“I see.” Tarryn looked down at the coffee dripping into the mug. “So, rather than accept you couldpossiblybe wrong, it was easier to blame me? I live in this town, Sophie. I rely on odd jobs like this to supplement my art. It’s not helpful to have my proficiency questioned in such a public way.”
“You’re right. I’m—”
