Page 13 of The Rules of Their Red-Hot Reunion

CHAPTER FOUR

ONRETURNINGFROMher five-kilometre run through the pear orchard, past the stream, and through the vineyard—showing off its lovely autumn colours—Aisha jumped into the shower and afterwards pulled on a pair of black yoga pants, fluffy socks, and a comfortable, slouchy, off-the-shoulder cotton sweater. She intended to work from the cottage today and the four-seater square dining table in her open-plan lounge, dining, and kitchen area suited her perfectly. She had coffee and, because she’d stopped by a deli and bakery in Franschhoek yesterday, she had enough food to tide her over for a couple of days.

She anticipated a day of immense productivity.

But first, she wanted to take five minutes to relax. She picked up her cup of coffee and walked onto the tiny patio leading off from the kitchen and sat down on the white concrete wall enclosing the small area. There was a small wrought-iron table, but she wanted to feel the sun on her face, so she sat on the wall, back against the cottage, and stretched out her legs. The smell of lavender and thyme, planted in raku-fired pots, wafted up to her and she could hear tractor engines rumbling in the distance.

It was a perfect day, clear, cool, and sunny, and Aisha couldn’t take her eyes off the Simonsberg mountain basking in the sunlight. It was like a huge dragon’s tooth, raggedy edged, filled with cracks and crevasses. She’d read, somewhere, that it could be hiked, and she’d love to do that. Maybe in a month or two when she had a handle on her work here at St Urban, she’d carve out the time.

You left me because I was a poor sous chef and couldn’t give you the life you wanted, the life I promised you...

Last night, after her anger had died down, Pasco’s words had kept buzzing around her brain. Where and when did he pick up the notion that money, or lack of it, was the reason she’d left him? Of all the reasons she’d bailed, and there were many—lack of time and attention being the biggest reason—money had never been an issue.

She had been all but excommunicated by her parents, so her uncle Dominic had stepped up and paid for online university modules and, when she could, she’d picked up waitressing shifts at the bistro down the road. They hadn’t been rich, but they’d been a long way off poor.

‘Stunning, isn’t it?’

She wasn’t surprised to see him, had even expected him to turn up this morning as he wasn’t one to leave an argument unfinished. What did surprise her were the battered, faded jeans hugging his hips, and old, mud-splattered boots. The cuffs on his long-sleeved T-shirt—navy blue and hugging his wide, wide chest—also showed some signs of wear and tear.

But the watch on his thick wrist was a limited edition Patek-Philippe, his sleek and sexy aviator sunglasses were high-end, definitely designer. She couldn’t name the brand, but knew they’d be ferociously expensive to buy. His hair was expertly cut and his cologne, dancing on the light breeze, was a compelling mixture reminding her of the sun and the sea, and a blend that perfect cost money. Lots of it.

He looked fit, hot, and take-me-to-bed sexy, but Aisha had no intention of letting him off the hook. He needed to do some big-time grovelling first. ‘What do you want, Kildare?’

His eyes deepened and desire flashed, briefly, in his eyes. Yeah, yeah, she got it, he wanted her, their kiss last night clued her in, but if those were the first words out of his mouth she might throw her coffee cup at him.

Pasco jammed his hands into the front pockets of his Levi’s, those huge shoulders rolling forward. ‘To apologise, actually. I was off base last night. I was pissed off and frustrated and I should never have said what I said.

‘You’re obviously damn good at your job and I was way out of line,’ he added. ‘I’m sorry.’

Aisha, shocked at his sincere apology—the Pasco she knew would rather burn Wagyu beef than apologise—needed a minute to think, so she lifted her coffee cup to her lips and sipped, trying to formulate a response. She’d been expecting another fight—Pasco hated losing—but she hadn’t expected an apology.

This was new. And she could either accept it and move on or take the opportunity to needle him a little for his assumptions.Be an adult, Shetty.

Aisha nodded. ‘Thank you.’ She saw him looking at her coffee cup and sighed. ‘Do you want a cup?’

‘I’d love a cup,’ he replied, stepping onto the patio. Aisha swung her legs off the wall and walked into her kitchen, Pasco a step behind. She grabbed a mug and put it under the spout of the coffee machine and checked the level of the beans and water.

‘I didn’t hear a car, so how did you get here?’ Aisha asked him.

‘I walked over,’ Pasco replied, pulling out a chair. He lifted his eyes at the piles of multicoloured folders on the table and cocked his head to read the tabs. ‘I own the smallholding right next door, actually. This cottage is about a ten-minute walk, as the crow flies, from my back door. But I took a long way around and walked up St Urban’s drive.’

Aisha turned her back to him, not sure how comfortable she was with him living in such close proximity to her.

Pasco pulled out a dining chair and sat down. ‘Franschhoek is my home town so I bought a place here.’

‘It’s a long commute to Pasco’s at The Vane every day,’ Aisha said, placing his mug in front of him. It was black and strong, the way he used to drink it back in the day.

He picked up the pottery mug, sipped, and closed his eyes. The corners of his mouth kicked up. ‘I see you still drink Ethiopian Yirgacheffe.’

She smiled and shrugged. Money had been short during their marriage but some things, Pasco had declared, could not be compromised on. Coffee, excellent South African wine, exceptional olive oil. ‘Some famous chef introduced me to it and got me hooked. I had severe withdrawal symptoms because I couldn’t afford it on my student budget, but as soon as I started earning decent money, it went back on the list.’

‘That chef taught you well.’

He had. She’d learned a lot from Pasco about food and wine and making love. Aisha, feeling her cheeks redden, remembered his comment from last night and decided to take the plunge. ‘Talking about money, you said something last night that shocked me.’

Pasco winced. ‘Only one thing?’

She smiled briefly. ‘I don’t want to fight with you this morning, I don’t.’ She lifted a finger. ‘And we really do have to work out the rules of our working together, Pasco.’

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