‘Sorry about that. I don’t think hosts are meant to flash their house guests, are they?’
Thank God he appeared to find it funny. I matched his banter with my own.
‘I think it’s okay if you never actually invited them to stay in the first place.’
He grinned, and after a moment of hesitation I grinned back.
Strangely, it was the grin that haunted my thoughts for the rest of the morning, and not the unexpected glimpse of a body I never thought I’d see unclothed again.
‘You’re moving so much better,’ Josh observed as I went from dishwasher to cupboards, putting things away. After only a few days, I knew the layout of his kitchen shelves almost as well as my own.
‘I am,’ I said with a lightness of both heart and step that had definitely been missing before. It was amazing, the difference a change in weather had made to my mood. ‘I was thinking I might take Fletcher out for his walk this morning.’
Josh nodded into his coffee cup. ‘Sure. Just so long as I go with you.’
‘I don’t need you to babysit me anymore, Josh. Not now I’m more mobile.’
‘Exactly,’ he said triumphantly. ‘You’re almost better, and the last thing either of us wants is for you to take another tumble and end up having to stay here even longer.’
Thatwasthe last thing I wanted, but it still stung to hear that he could scarcely wait to see me gone.
‘Besides,’ Josh continued in an entirely different – almost hesitant – tone. ‘Now things are thawing outside, they’ll be clearing the roads and fallen trees in the next day or two. And I still haven’t had the chance to show you around properly.’
‘Well, if you’re sure you can spare the time,’ I said, feeling oddly conflicted about leaving the forest. It was probably frustration, because I’d never managed to get to the bottom of Adam’s final instruction. It felt increasingly likely that I’dneverdiscover why my husband had sent me to Josh, or why he’d ever thought I’d need to forgive him.
I pulled on the only clean jumper I had left in my case and ran a brush through my hair, for once not bothering to clip it up. The soft water in the forest had my hair shining in a way even fancysalon treatments had never achieved. Still, good hair was hardly an adequate reason to live in a forest for the rest of your life.
Unsure how the absurd notion of living here permanently had crept into my thoughts, I returned to the kitchen where Josh was waiting for me. He was dressed for outdoors and was holding my coat in readiness for me to slip it on. There was a slight fumble of crutch and sleeves as I wriggled into it. Josh’s hand went to my neck to sweep my hair free of the collar, releasing both the trapped strands and a curious sensation that travelled the length of my spine. My body had traitorously responded exactly as it used to do whenever Adam’s fingers had scraped against my neck. I was furious with my nerve endings for not recognising that this was the wrong man, in the wrong place, and they had no business reacting as they’d done.
With a voice that sound unnaturally chipper, I strode briskly to the door. ‘What’s the first stop on our tour? Your workshop?’
Josh’s brows drew together. I kept forgetting how well we used to know each other; how easily we’d once picked up on every tiny nuance. He’d done such a great job of forgetting me, but unfortunately it seemed he could still read me like a book.
‘We can start there if you like, although there’s not much to see. Just a load of wood and tools.’
‘Great!’ I said, sounding so falsely jolly I fully expected him to call me out on it. Weirdly, he didn’t, but he did look at me strangely before picking up Fletcher’s lead and following me out the door.
The workshop was more cavernous than I’d realised. It felt like a cross between an airline hangar and a meat locker. Josh must have seen me shiver, for he gave an apologetic shrug. ‘Sorry. It’s always pretty chilly in here.’ He flicked on a series of switches and two rows of overhead fluorescents buzzed into life, as well as an electric heater.
The air was fragrant with wood shavings, wax and varnish. It was a subtle aroma that I realised clung to Josh like a signature cologne.
Within the workshop were multiple benches, each containing projects at different stages of completion. I wandered from one bench to the next, recognising several of the pieces in progress from his website.
‘These are all really good,’ I said, genuinely impressed with his skill. He’d come a long way from a troubled teenager with a penknife and a penchant for scoring his name in tree trunks.
I threw him a sidelong glance and was surprised to see him looking vaguely uncomfortable. Surely he knew how talented he was?
‘So, what’s under that one?’ I asked, walking towards a final workbench, which, unlike the others, was shrouded by a large calico dust sheet.
‘Oh, that’s nothing,’ Josh said, his pace quickening as I approached the mysteriously draped bench. ‘It’s not finished.’
It seemed unnecessary to point out that neither were the items onanyof the benches. But they weren’t hidden from sight.
‘It was a commission piece, but it fell through.’ There was a definite uneasy note in his voice.
My curiosity was piqued. ‘May I?’ I asked, my hand already on the dust sheet.
With an almost tortured look, Josh gave a quick reluctant nod.
