Page 83 of The Polly Principle (The Laws of Love 2)

So when Polly had said she would be leaving at the crack of dawn and maybe he should come up on his bike, he’d gladly agreed. The ride would blow away the tension he was feeling. They hadn’t touched since Saturday at the beach. During the week professional Polly, all brisk and businesslike, was back. It was like playing the dating equivalent of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde.

“I’ll show you to your room, if you like,” Polly addressed him.

Solo slurped an obligatory mouthful or two of strong tea and got up. Charlie let out a whine of protest and backed away, then started to wag his tail in anticipation of what might come next.

Polly bent down and chucked him under the chin, pulled his ears. Solo averted his eyes from the way her hemline nearly rode up to expose… no way could he trust his body to behave if he got a glimpse of what lay underneath.

“You bad, bad boy…” she crooned. Solo nearly groaned at the husky tone of her voice. “You leave Solo alone now.”

“See you later, Mim, Kate, thanks for the cuppa,” he said. The two women were already making plans for the food and gave him a cheery wave. “Anything else I can do to help?”

“Joe will probably need a hand in the barn with arranging the tables and chairs,” Kate said. “I’ll let Polly show you where to go.”

Dutifully he grabbed his overnight bag off the floor and followed Polly. The farmhouse, with its rabbit warren of rooms and bits built on different levels, reminded Solo so much of Pop’s and Nan’s that a shot of nostalgia hit yet again. And then a wave of sadness. He suddenly remembered how much Drew had loved the farm; it was always where he’d seemed at peace, and now it looked like it was going to be Solo’s burden to sell.

Another wedge that would be driven between them.

He pushed aside the thoughts as Polly threw open a door. “This is where you’re staying. It used to be my gran’s room.”

Solo moved past her; taking care not to swing his bag into her meant their bodies bumped instead. It was like they were both holding their breath.

He couldn’t help smiling as he took in the interior.

By now Polly had walked around to the other side of the bed and was watching him, arms crossed against her chest.

“What’s funny?” she asked.

“Not funny. It’s just—” He put his bag down on the floor next to the bed and swept his arm in an expansive gesture. “It’s exactly like my nan’s bedroom. Same candlewick bedspread, only hers was white, not pink; the dressing table with the three-way mirror. Even…” He moved over and touched the little white vase with the spray of delicately moulded porcelain flowers on the side. “Even this… Nan always had wild roses in hers.”

In the mirror, Polly’s image reflected back at him. She was clasping her elbows, rubbing her arms with tight fingers. Her face looked so young and vulnerable.

“It’s kind of reassuring,” he said quickly to cover his desire to circumnavigate the bed and pull her into his arms.

“In what way?”

“Our grandparents’ worlds. When I was a kid, those things kept me safe, like after Mum and Dad died and I’d come into Nan’s bed for my morning cup of tea and there would be her stuff, her ornaments, and, you know, every time I smell lavender, even now it makes me feel good.”

Polly gave a little laugh. “Gran’s clothes always smelled like lavender. She had those things, what d’you call them, pomanders or something. Made of gauze and full of dried lavender flowers.”

He nodded. He remembered.

She sat down on the bed. “See here.”

He went over and sat next to her, watching her hand smoothing over the coverlet.

“This is where I picked out bits of yarn. And here.” She bent down and pulled up a corner of the bedspread and showed him where it was threadbare two rows from the bottom. “When Gran told me off for picking at it, I secretly picked at the hem. It was really, really addictive.”

Solo laughed, he loved these little morsels Polly kept throwing him. He was no better than Charlie, really, was he? Living in hope of the small crumbs. She moved her leg a little closer and his breath scrambled, a pulse beat hard in his temples. He was contemplating taking her hand in his when there was a commotion, Charlie barking and a loud yelping.

Polly jumped up.

“That’ll be Dad home for lunch, I’ll introduce you. I’ll just go put some clothes on first.” She pulled at the tie of her dressing gown and he stood too, so they were facing each other. She bit on her lower lip and the little pillow it made under her teeth made him want to throw her on that bed, Gran’s room or not, and make wild passionate love to her.

“Must you?”

Now she licked her lower lip and it glistened. “Ahhhh—that would feel kind of weird, like, in here.”

“Yeah, of course. I didn’t actually mean…”

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