Page 61 of Where the Heart Is

‘I heard she’s getting a farm stay off the ground. It’s great you get to test out the cottages firsthand.’

To his mortification, heat surged to his cheeks at exactly how he’d tested out one of those cottages with Mila.

But he managed a sedate, ‘Uh-huh,’ not correcting his sister’s assumption that he wouldn’t be staying in the main house.

‘You spent so much time at Hills Homestead I always thought you had a thing for Mila, but then you left town without a backward glance the day after your final exam.’

‘Will and Mila were my best mates and I hated being at home.’

If his blunt honesty surprised her, she didn’t show it. ‘I know it must’ve been tough on you after I moved out.’

He nodded. ‘The age gap between us sucked, because after you left, I was the only one left to bear the brunt of Dad’s crap.’

‘He was a mean son of a bitch sometimes.’

‘Try all the time.’

With his sisters gone, Henry turned his special brand of hatred on to him and Mum. She’d tolerated so much—because of her kids, he always suspected—and that’s something Sawyer had to live with every day.

Allison grimaced. ‘I hate to speak ill of the dead, but the speed with which the dementia took him was the best thing that ever happened.’

‘You’ll get no arguments from me.’

Sawyer hadn’t come here to rehash the past, so he said, ‘You’ve got a few hours before the kids come home, yeah? How about we stash this tea cake for later and head to the pub for a drink?’

Allison’s eyebrows rose. ‘I can’t remember the last time I had a drink in the afternoon.’

‘Well, you’re a big girl, Alli, and this is the first time I’ve been back in this godforsaken town in fifteen years, so let’s go out and celebrate.’

The cheeky expression he remembered well—usually alerting him to her teasing him mercilessly about something—lit up her face. ‘You’ve twisted my arm. I can definitely go an espresso martini.’

‘Then what are we waiting for?’

CHAPTER

37

Adelaide didn’t have time to second-guess her decision to kiss Jack, because the moment her lips touched his, she combusted.

All rational thought left her brain as his lips commanded hers in a familiarity that snatched her breath. Her mouth opened beneath his, their tongues duelling, their hands everywhere as she couldn’t get enough of her soon-to-be ex-husband.

Her palms skated over his damp skin, exploring, savouring, remembering old dips and ridges, discovering new ones. And when his hands slid over her butt and pulled her flush against him, the evidence of how much he wanted her made her devour him anew.

They kissed until breathless, dragging in great gulps of air before going back for more, making out like a couple of teenagers. Lost in their passion, they staggered and bumped into the kitchen bench, resulting in a pot clattering to the floor with a resounding crash.

It didn’t stop them. They clung to each other, frantic and desperate, and Adelaide knew she’d never felt more alive.

As her fingers toyed with Jack’s towel, he stilled and wrenched his mouth from hers. They stared at each other, wild-eyed, as reality crashed over them.

‘What the … I mean … You …’ He trailed off, lost for words, and she didn’t blame him. She could hardly form a coherent thought, let alone an explanation for the way she’d launched herself at him.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she managed to engage her brain and mouth to work in sync. ‘I wanted to thank you for the easel, canvas, and paints. I guess I got overwhelmed by emotion and a little carried away.’

‘Uh-huh,’ he mumbled, still appearing shell-shocked, so she aimed for levity.

‘Then again, who can blame a gal if you answer the door wearing nothing but a towel?’

He glanced down, his expression horrified as he belatedly realised the cotton towel with frayed edges had seen better days and still sported an impressive tenting.

---