She swallowed, looking uncomprehendingly down at the papers in front of her. She couldn’t look at her wife, her fake wife, who had, somehow, become an infuriatingly wonderful part of her life.

She cleared her throat, pushed her plate to one side, and nodded. “Alright, show me what I need to do, then.”

IT WAS ALMOST midnight. The clock on the mantle over the fireplace ticked into the silence. After hours of working together, Danni was certain that she’d learned more about governmentalbureaucracy than she’d known in her entire life up to this point. She had a new-found respect for the big spider in the hay barn. Being a spider suddenly seemed like a wonderfully free and uncomplicated life.

Her back ached, her brain felt fried, and yet, somehow, she wasn’t annoyed. Or at least not as annoyed as usual.

This was almost entirely down to the fact that as well as putting her glasses back on again, Eleanor had taken off her blazer and rolled up her shirt sleeves, and was currently chewing on the end of a pen in a way that was very distracting.

Jesus, she was tired. That must be it. Danni forced herself to look away, clearing her throat. “So, um, we finished here?”

Eleanor stretched, her blouse shifting slightly just as Danni looked back in her direction. Danni felt something in her brain short-circuit.

Eleanor caught her staring.

For one terrifying, heart-stopping moment, neither of them looked away.

Danni felt like she was being dragged down by an anchor, drifting helplessly toward the seabed, drowning but not caring because the water felt so good against her skin.

Then Eleanor cleared her throat and pushed her chair back. “Yes. We should get to bed.”

Danni nodded dumbly, watching Eleanor walk away.

As she lay on the couch that night, as uncomfortable as ever, Danni stared up at the ceiling, replaying that lingering glance. Which led her to think about every accidental touch, every word that may have been spoken unintentionally. And all that led her to wonder if maybe, just perhaps, Indi had been right.

Could Eleanor be feeling things, too?

Chapter Eighteen

The evening air carried the scent of fresh earth and hay as Eleanor stepped outside of the farmhouse kitchen. It wasn’t lost on her that she was starting to feel comfortable here, starting to feel more of a sense of belonging.

She stretched, trying to release the tension of a long day on the construction site. It was time for the roof to be done and she was paranoid that Samson was going to leave her precious rooms open to the air, no matter how many times he told her he wasn’t.

She breathed in deeply, the farm settling into the late evening, the sky a beautiful blend of oranges and pinks and purples. It was peaceful, yet she still felt inexplicably restless.

And there was Danni, down in the paddock. So maybe that restlessness wasn’t quite so inexplicable. Eleanor sighed. Danni had her sleeves rolled up, her hair was disheveled, and as Eleanor walked closer, she could see that there was sweat glistening on Danni’s skin as she secured a gate hinge.

She had to stand for a moment, she had to steady herself, watching Danni work, the effortless way she moved, strong and sure. A thought flickered in her mind, so dangerous in its implications that she pushed it quickly away.

“Evening,” Danni said, sensing Eleanor behind her but not turning, intent on her work.

“Evening,” said Eleanor. She wasn’t sure what else to say, soshe didn’t say anything.

Sam strolled over to the paddock fence, ears flicking against the flies, coming closer to nuzzle at Eleanor, looking for treats. Which gave Eleanor an idea, something that might help her restlessness. “Mind if I take Sam for a ride?” she called out.

Danni did turn around now, brows lifting in surprise. “No one rides Sam.”

“No one?” Eleanor asked, tilting her head. “Or just no one else?”

Danni hesitated before sighing. “Fine. But he’s a rough ride. If you fall off and break a leg, don’t come running to me.”

“Well, I wouldn’t, would I?” Eleanor said reasonably as she led Sam toward the gate. “Not with a broken leg.”

Danni grunted and opened the gate to let Sam out of the paddock.

Saddling the horse was second nature. Eleanor’s hands worked deftly, years of muscle memory kicking in. Swinging into the saddle, she barely had to touch her thighs to Sam’s side before he set off at an easy trot through the stable yard and out into the paddock and from there the open fields. So much for a rough ride.

The breeze tugged at her hair as Eleanor let Sam stretch his legs, reveling in the familiar rhythm of riding, the steady movement beneath her. It had been years since she’d just ridden, just for pleasure, for the joy of it. But it was instinctual, which gave her mind time to wander again.