Page 41 of Lazy Days At The Farm On Muddypuddle Lane
‘Cute?’ He didn’t want to be thought of as cute. He wanted to be thought of as rugged and handsome. ‘I withdraw my offer,’ he joked.
‘Please don’t. I want to see your equipment.’ Realising what she’d said, she closed her eyes and let out a groan.
Her blush made him chuckle. ‘You’ve gone red.’ He was laughing aloud now, a proper belly laugh that left him gaspingfor breath. Carla glared at him for a moment before giggling, and very soon she had tears in her eyes and was holding her sides.
‘I haven’t laughed like that for ages,’ she gasped.
And when he replied, ‘I’m glad the thought of seeing my equipment amuses you,’ it set her off again.
She leaned against him for support, and he slipped an arm around her waist. When she straightened up, it was perfectly natural for his mouth to seek hers and he simply didn’t care that they were snogging in the street like teenagers.
When they broke apart, Ashton was breathless with desire.
‘I think I’ll have that glass of wine you mentioned,’ she said.
He took hold of her hand, and they resumed their walk to the car.
‘Aftercoffee,’ she added, leaning in to nibble on his ear.
Ashton stumbled, as what she said sank in; did she mean what hethoughtshe meant?
The short journey from the restaurant to his house seemed to take forever. The tension between them was palpable, and the atmosphere in the car was charged with promise. Ashton’s pulse throbbed, his palms were clammy on the steering wheel, and his thoughts were a confused mess. He wanted her so badly it hurt, but was what they were about to do wise?
Sod it. He was going into this with his eyes wide open. He knew what he was letting himself in for – a relationship with Carla would never be a long-term thing – and as long as he kept that in mind, he should be fine.
Carla pushed her misgivings aside as desire surged through her veins. Ashton’s smouldering look when he’d realised what she’d meant, and the way his eyes had darkened, the tension in his jaw and the hunger on his face, had melted her insides, searing its way through her body.
Dear lord, she hadn’t felt this turned on since forever. And hehadn’t even touched her yet. Not really – although the kiss they’d just shared had nearly made her burst into flames.
By the time they arrived at his house, her heart was skipping, missing beats and thudding to catch up with itself, and she was so weak with desire that she had trouble getting out of the car.
As soon as they were inside, he turned to her and she swallowed reflexively, wilting at the naked desire in his eyes.
‘Wine?’ His voice was gruff. It sent a shiver right through her.
‘No.’ Hers was barely more than a whisper.
With a low growl, he closed the distance between them, his arms snapping around her as he pulled her into his chest, a cage of bone and muscle locking her in place, pressing her to him.
She felt like a candle, consumed by the flame of his need as he kissed her, his mouth urgent and demanding, and she melted into him, wanting this as much as he.
When he broke the connection and bent to scoop her into his arms and carry her off to bed, all conscious thought fled, as Carla made love to him with her body, her heart, and her soul.
CHAPTER NINE
It was amazing how quickly one could get used to something, Carla thought as she stepped out of the house on Hazel Road and locked the door. In the two weeks since she’d moved into the house in Picklewick, she had become very used to it indeed, and she’d even begun to feel as though she’d lived there forever.
Slipping the keys into her bag, she walked swiftly down the road, her heels tapping on the pavement. The noise made her frown, and her feet didn’t appreciate the unaccustomed court shoes either. They weren’t used to wearing them. They were more used to being encased in trainers these days.
As she made her way to the bus stop, Carla tugged self-consciously at the hem of her newly acquired jacket. She also wasn’t used to wearing office-type attire, having become accustomed to jeans, tee shirts and hoodies. They were the only items of clothing she had brought with her when she’d fled Birmingham for the farm on Muddypuddle Lane over a month ago – apart from two dresses in case she went somewhere nice (like Otto’s restaurant, for instance) and a pair of shorts should the weather be nice enough to warrant getting her legs out. So in order to attend an interview with the temp service in Thornbury, she’d had to scour the rails of Picklewick’s charity shop for something suitable to wear.
She had also become very used to living in Picklewick. However, it wasn’t the ideal place to set down new roots. The village was too quiet, and despite not wanting to live in a city again, she would like somewhere a little livelier. Besides, rental properties in Picklewick were more expensive than those in Thornbury. She knew this, because she’d checked.
Carla hadn’t mentioned any of this to Ashton, and Dulcie thought Carla was mad not to tell him, but Carla’s reasons were valid. She didn’t want their relationship and the fact that she had fallen for him, to colour her decision – because she wasn’t doing this for him, or forthem. She was doing it for herself.
Anyway, all this was purely speculative, a plan in place in case the meeting with HR didn’t go in her favour. Charlie, her union rep, would be attending it with her, and he seemed to think the outcome was cut and dried. Carla had forwarded copies of the contents of Anita’s folder to him, and he had almost crowed with glee, declaring that the ‘other party’ (which was how he referred to Yale) wouldn’t know what had hit him.
Carla wished she had Charlie’s level of confidence. Quietly optimistic was as far as she would go.
