“Can I help you?” Traces of Yorkshire thrummed through his accent, but there was a plummy quality that spoke directly to his elite education.
“Sorry, I heard the music and got curious.” Pippa was taken aback by his rudeness. His family opened up their gardens to the people of Hurst Bridge every year; it couldn’t have been a huge shock to see her there.
Wolfie fingered the buttons on the stereo. The balmy evening light cast shadows across the angles of his lean jaw. If he weren’t so bloody moody, he’d be extremely handsome, Pippa decided. “I came here for some peace,” he told her.
“Peace?” He was more than moody, Pippa thought; he was downright miserable. How could anyone not enjoy the Summer Fair?
“Yup.” He didn’t elaborate.
Pippa was bemused. What an odd thing to say. Yes, the fair meant the town got busy, but that was to be expected because Hurst Bridge had one of the finest Summer Fairs, like, ever. Something that the Squires family had had a significant role in creating.
“Why are you home then?” Pippa asked hotly. “If this place is such a nightmare.”
A savage smile twisted his face. “School is over.”
“I suppose you’re going to university in September,” Pippa said. “Far away from here, like.”
“I am going far away from this place, that’s for damn sure.” His hands, large and capable, returned to fiddling with the stereo.
Pippa sensed he was done with conversation – not that he was any good at it – and turned to leave. Then she stopped. How could someone with their ownmazebe such a misery? And why he thought it was appropriate to turn his nose up at everything around him, she didn’t know. “You don’t know how lucky you are.”
Wolfie looked up at Pippa sharply, clasping the radio to his chest. “Excuse me?”
She hadn’t expected such a visceral reaction. “Why are you being such a dick?”
“Adick?” Amusement played across Wolfie’s face.
“Acting like everything about your life is so terrible.” Pippa’s cheeks burned. Maybe it wasn’t good etiquette to call your host’s son a dick, but Wolfie’s attitude was seriously the worst. “Stop trying to be too cool for school. We live in a really nice town.”
“Ha! Too cool—!” Wolfie spluttered a laugh. “I don’t think I’ve ever been accused of that before.”
Pippa wasn’t done. “And your house! God, I’dloveto live in a place like Squires. You are so lucky.”
Wolfie suddenly went deathly still, his mirth vanishing. “Yes.” He looked down at the stereo in his hands, long fingers tightening around it. “Yes, I am.” The volume of the music crept back up and Pippa got the feeling she was very much dismissed.
ChapterOne
THIRTEEN YEARS LATER
Pippa closed the laptop with a groan. It had been a mammoth task balancing the last month’s incomings and outgoings, but she had a handle on it, finally. Not the most thrilling way to spend a Friday night, but of late it had become the norm, such was the mania of her working week. Even so, it was satisfying to see her ideas yielding decent returns. Hiring out the orchard for events had been as lucrative as her projections had suggested and her negotiations with the cattle feed supplier had resulted in some serious savings. Pippa grinned, satisfaction thrumming through her veins. It had been a good, if tiring, day. And maybe, just maybe, it was about to get better. She looked down at her currently bare ring finger and let out an exuberant little squeal.
Alex had been up to something; Pippa knew it. She’d caught him with his ‘secret’ face a few times – the face he pulled when he was planning something – and any time she tried to engage him in any farm-related matters, he seemed more distracted than usual. There’d been some loaded comments recently about a ‘new future’ and ‘next steps’. Not only that, but as he left the house that morning, he’d told her they had some important things to discuss when he got home. Excitement coursed through Pippa’s veins as she imagined what that might mean. Pippa allowed herself to dream. The early years of running the farm had been brutal – far beyond anything she’d imagined in the heady, idealistic early days of their relationship. Although the farm was always busy, back then the margins had been narrow to the point of skirting disaster. The first few years post-college had seen every penny earned going back into the business and any dreams Pippa’d had of marrying and starting a family had to be postponed. But Pippa had gleefully agreed to this, throwing herself into carving out their shared dream.
The truth was that, over a decade later, their efforts had paid off, and no one knew that better than Pippa. The farm was very successful and had been for some time now. Pippa considered the accounts she’d just reviewed; they were in a better position than they could ever have dreamed. Surely now they could take a moment to relax and enjoy their success? Maybe even take that extended holiday they’d idly discussed a few times? Perhaps as a honeymoon? Pippa wasn’t sure, but she suspected Alex might be of the same mind. And so, she’d taken precious time out of her day to file and paint her nails – just in case.
She allowed herself a brief twirl around the kitchen in her new and now favourite dress; a calf-length white cotton number with a tiered, floaty hem and a neckline that made her feel like a bosomy heroine from a Regency drama. Hidden boning pulled in her waist and pushed up her chest, whilst the gathered sleeves had a rather sexy way of slipping off her shoulders to reveal the creamy, freckled skin underneath. Fashion had never been Pippa’s strong suit, but she’d spied the dress in the window of a boutique when running errands in town the week before. It was unlike her to make such an investment in her style but, in that moment, it had seemed essential to her wellbeing. She hoped Alex would enjoy her in it as much as she loved to wear it. What’s more, she hoped the sight of her in a white dress would prompt him to ask the question she’d been waiting for all this time.
“Have you gone off your rocker or summat?” Ted’s voice startled Pippa and she stopped twirling with a jolt. Alex’s father stood in the doorway, dressed in his usual ancient corduroy trousers and donkey jacket, dark eyes bristling from under bushy white eyebrows.
“Just having a stretch!” Pippa unconvincingly waved her arms around and quickly changed the subject. “What are you up to?”
“Hmm.” Ted grunted. “Out.”
“Are you sure?” Pippa glanced out of the kitchen window into the March evening. “It’s below ten degrees out there.”
“I’ll be fine.” Ted’s glare dared her to contradict him. “I’m having tea with the darts team.”
“I see.” Not for the first time, Pippa observed that no matter Ted’s ailment, he always rallied enough strength to down a few whiskies with the chaps from the darts team.
