Page 52 of Where the Heart Is

She grimaced. ‘Sorry about that. I’m not sleeping well at the moment.’

He’d like to think he had something to do with that—that he invaded her thoughts as much as she invaded his—but in reality, it probably had more to do with the financial stress she was under.

‘I might be able to help with that.’

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘That’s awfully presumptuous of you. Dinner doesn’t mean a sleepover, you know.’ She winked. ‘Not that there’d be much sleeping going on.’

The image of the two of them in bed together had him biting back a groan. He’d like nothing better than to spend the night if she meant it. But he’d been the king of deflection growing up, using humour to distract from how he was feeling, and he recognised Mila doing the same thing now.

‘Nice to know how your mind works,’ he said, earning a playful whack on the arm for his wolfish grin. ‘But I was actually referring to the deal I’ve brokered for your tract of land that will enable you to finish your farm-stay project.’

Mila squealed so loudly he winced and covered his ears. ‘Are you serious? I didn’t want to push you earlier and ask about it, but this is really happening?’

‘It’s happening,’ he said, the joy on her face making his deception a little easier.

Not that he was deliberately deceiving her. He just wasn’t telling her the entire truth about who was acquiring her land.

‘You’re amazing,’ she said, launching herself at him so hard that they tumbled back on the couch, with her lying on top of him. ‘Thank you.’

‘My pleasure,’ he murmured, his arms sliding around her to anchor her, the weight of her making breathing difficult. Though that had more to do with her breasts pressed against his chest and her pelvis flush against his.

He should sit up, laugh off her exuberance, and suggest they have a coffee to wind down the evening.

But as Mila’s gaze focused on his mouth and her tongue darted out to moisten her bottom lip, he knew he had as much chance of stopping this as coming clean on the land deal tonight.

‘Mila, if we start something now, it’s going to end with me staying the night. Are you sure you want that?’

‘I’m very sure of what I want.’ The corners of her mouth kicked into a naughty smile that made his heart sing. ‘And that’s you.’

CHAPTER

31

‘It’s been a while since I’ve had dinner at the pub,’ Jack said, raising his glass. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’

Adelaide raised her wine glass and clinked it against his. ‘It’s the least I can do, shout you dinner after you’re letting me stay in your bungalow rent-free.’

‘Who said it’s free?’

For the second time today, Jack winked, and Adelaide had no idea if her husband was flirting or making a joke.

Her husband …Since when had she started thinking of him in those terms? For years now, she’d labelled Jack as her ex, to herself and anyone else who asked. And after her visit to the lawyer’s office today to make an appointment, she’d taken the first step to make sure the ‘ex’ label became a reality.

But she’d been so flustered after seeing Jack in his element at the Men’s Shed—and that cheeky wink after he’d caught her spying—that she hadn’t told him about making an appointment with Samuel Nobil and invited him out to dinner instead.

She’d been surprised he’d accepted so readily, even more so when he’d knocked on the bungalow door to pick her up and she’d opened it to find him dressed in black pants, burgundy shirt, and polished boots that looked new. He’d never worn anything other than flannelette and jeans in winter, work shorts and singlets in summer. On the rare occasion they went out, he’d grumble about having to wear his one good pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.

It looked like this new and improved Jack extended to his wardrobe too, and she wondered if his better dress sense had something to do with a woman. He’d already told her he’d dated occasionally out of town, but would he tell her the entire truth? She didn’t want to answer questions about Raven, so she shouldn’t expect him to tell her everything despite how badly she wanted to know.

‘What are you thinking about?’

She blinked and refocused, to find Jack staring at her so intensely heat flooded her cheeks. ‘How much I miss my painting. It grounds me.’

He didn’t believe her and to his credit he called her on it. ‘What are you really thinking about?’

‘You,’ she blurted, before she could censor her response. ‘And how much you’ve changed.’

His eyebrows rose but he didn’t say anything, his scrutiny increasingly unnerving.

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