Page 27 of Sanctuary at MacLeod's Cove
‘Good,’ he said. ‘I’d hate for you to swear at me. Not so soon anyway. We haven’t got past the polite stage yet.’
Yet. The word held the promise of a future she refused to contemplate.
‘So…’ he began, no doubt wondering at her lack of response.
But for the life of her, she couldn’t think of a thing to say. She kept her eyes level with his chest, unable to meet his gaze, as she contemplated a strand of chest hair that popped up over the V of his T-shirt.
‘So…’ he continued again, ‘you’re working here now?’
She nodded and wondered why his t-shirt was so clean compared to his dusty and oil-streaked work jeans. He’d obviously been working. The stray curl of wood shaving in his hair confirmed the fact. Then she realised why. She felt an odd pull in her stomach at the thought of him bare-chested under the heat of the summer sun.
She jumped as he touched her shoulder and looked into her eyes.
‘Are you OK?’ he asked.
If she had been before, she certainly wasn’t now. The look of concern in his eyes cut through the years, taking her back to when he’d first asked her out. She’d been walking home from the train station in the rain. He’d been driving by in his father’s ute and had pulled over and asked her if she’d wanted a lift home. She’d stood there in disbelief that the village heartthrob had asked her to climb into his ute. Although she hadn’t answered, he’d jumped out, ignoring the deluge, and looked at her in the same way he was looking at her now. As if he cared.
But even if she was right, and he did care, she couldn’t do anything about it. Because his caring weakened her, and she had to be strong for what was coming. For her and for Liam.
She stepped back, and his hand fell from her shoulder.
‘Of course I’m OK,’ she said abruptly, looking away. ‘Why wouldn’t I be?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said, with a hint of sarcasm in the face of her abruptness. ‘Maybe because you’ve been standing there, staring at me like a stunned mullet.’
She grunted, unable to think of any reason other than the truth why she had indeed appeared like a stunned fish. She felt like one. Instead of answering, she bent down and began picking up her things. She hoped he’d move away. But whether from sheer stubbornness or genuine interest, he leaned back against the kitchen counter, folded his arms and watched her.
‘I need to check something with Lucy. She’s got terrible writing. Lucy!’ she called. Hoping her kid sister would come to her rescue. But there was no reply.
‘By the smell of things, your sister is busy creating wonderful dishes for people like me.’
‘People like you?’ The question was spoken before she could curb her curiosity.
‘People who can’t cook and rely on others to cook for them.’
‘Ah, those kinds of people. I’m one of those, too.’
‘You never used to be.’ By the look on his face, it looked like he, too, had let words slip out without thinking. He rubbed his stubbly jawline — it seemed life in his caravan didn’t involve daily shaves — and cleared his throat before settling his gaze back on her. She wished he hadn’t. ‘I mean, you were always a wonderful cook. Maybe you’ve forgotten.’
‘Maybe I don’t want to remember.’
His smile was sad as he understood her meaning. ‘That’s a shame.’
It was, but she couldn’t agree. All she could do was look into his eyes and realise she’d forgotten how blue they were. She’d also forgotten how they could caress her with just a glance. Over the years, as she’d lain awake at night trying to figure out how to escape the mess she’d created of her life, she’d decided she’d imagined that particularly unique attribute of his. Had decided that it had all been a figment of her youthful imagination. But it wasn’t. Because it had happened again.
He walked over to the bell and rang it loudly before she could form any kind of response. As no one answered it, she followed him to the open kitchen door.
‘Lucy!’ he called, louder than was necessary. ‘You said you wanted me to take something to your mother?’
‘Oh, you’re here already, Sam,’ said Lucy with a wide grin, aimed first at Sam and then Jen. Jen glared at her. Lucy had known full well they were both out here and had stayed in the kitchen on purpose.
‘Yep. You told me to come at midday, and here I am.’
Jen’s frown increased at Lucy. It had been shortly before twelve when Lucy had asked her to write the menu out. It seemed her little sister was more devious than she remembered. And more determined.
‘Excellent,’ said Lucy, ignoring Jen. ‘I’ve got some kitchen stuff of Mum’s and no means of getting it to her. You don’t mind, do you?’ Lucy gave the sweetest smile which, Jen was sure, Lucy knew would only garner a positive response.
‘Of course not,’ said Sam. ‘You know I’d do anything for your mother. She was always good to me when I was a youngster.’
