Page 68 of Where the Heart Is

‘Wow, I didn’t know I’d been painting that long.’ Now she’d stopped, her neck muscles cramped and the spot between her shoulder blades ached, indicating she’d been at it for hours. ‘Do you want to come in while I wash up?’

‘Sure.’

He smiled and she swore her world tipped on its axis.

So much for painting relaxing her. In an instant she remembered the heat between them in his kitchen and what might’ve happened if one of them—him—hadn’t come to their senses. Sharing dinner in that very kitchen so soon after what they’d done was asking for trouble.

Though would it be so bad? Technically, Jack was still her husband. And she only had a casual thing with Raven; they were both free to see other people.

But Adelaide wasn’t a complete fool, and she knew having sex with Jack would change the dynamic between them. Not to mention make securing a divorce a tad more complicated.

‘Are you going to let me in?’ He cocked an eyebrow, and she gave a nervous laugh as she stepped back.

‘Sorry. I’m always in a daze when I paint, and it takes me a while to come out of it.’

‘I can leave you to it and see you at the house?’

‘No, no, come in.’

As he entered, and she caught a whiff of his subtle soap combined with pure Jack, she gritted her teeth against the urge to bury her nose in the crook of his neck and inhale.

‘I’ll just rinse off the stuff I’ve been using and get changed.’

Rather than taking a seat on a chair, he strolled alongside her to the easel and dread crept through her. He’d never shown any interest in her art when they were married, and by a few offhand comments she’d assumed he deemed it frivolous and a time suck, which is why she’d eventually stopped sketching too.

Her art channelled her vulnerability, something that drew buyers to part with decent amounts of cash to acquire one of her paintings these days. She’d had several people say they loved the rawness of her work, the emotion behind it, and that was the highest compliment they could’ve paid her.

Now, she held her breath as Jack stood alongside her, hoping he wouldn’t tear down the camaraderie they’d rebuilt with an illmeaning critique.

She’d painted a beautiful cove at Tally Bay, the view from her favourite lookout. Craggy cliffs tumbling down to serene aquamarine waters bracketed by a white sandy beach. From a critical perspective, it wasn’t her best work, but it definitely reflected her love for the spot. She could almost feel the sun on her face as she looked at it.

Jack’s silence spoke volumes. He didn’t like it. But when she snuck a glance at him, what she saw surprised her.

Sadness.

‘Jack?’ She tentatively touched his arm, and he tore his gaze away from the painting.

‘You’re good,’ he said, his smile forced. ‘I had no idea you were so talented.’

‘I’ve been painting for the last fourteen years. It’s how I make the bulk of my living.’

‘I think that’s incredible. It’s special, being able to earn a decent wage from doing something you love.’

Was that what it had been like for him and the farm? Though from memory, every cent he’d earned had been a struggle and she’d resented his love for the farm over her.

‘Thanks. That’s what I think too.’

He pointed at the painting. ‘Is this home for you?’

She nodded. ‘The view from my favourite lookout at Tally Bay.’

‘You must miss it.’ His tone took on a hardened edge. ‘I bet you can’t wait to get back.’

So that’s what his reticence was about. He thought she’d painted this because she couldn’t wait to leave. That would’ve been true last week, but now … Ashe Ridge held attractions she’d forgotten.

‘I’m enjoying my time here,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry to return.’

Jack got the message loud and clear, because he took a step back, as if fearing she’d jump his bones again. ‘I’ll get that pasta started,’ he mumbled. ‘Just come across when you’re ready.’

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