Page 33 of Winter at Wishington Bay
‘For the dopey Aussie?’ There was a flicker of humour in his eyes, but I got the feeling there was some truth in the question.
I gave him a head tilt and raised my brows, my face serious. ‘No.’
He held the look for a few moments then glanced away, the briefest of nods his acceptance.
‘How do you know that?’
‘What?’
‘What the hell a bushel is?’
I shrugged. ‘My brain is full useless information.’ Half of which I’d learned at one of the last finishing schools to be still running in Switzerland. Although quite where I’d picked up what a bushel was, I had no idea.
‘Thanks for walking me back.’
‘Pleasure. Thanks for the company. And the soup. And the cleaning.’
‘I get paid for the last two.’
‘They paid you to cook for me every day? Blimey, Gabe really doesn’t think I can cope by myself, does he?’
‘It’s not that. I think it’s more that he thinks you’ve been alone enough.’
‘Well, that makes me sound a right sap.’ He squinted as he looked away, and unnecessarily adjusted his hat.
I let out a sigh. ‘No. It doesn’t. Nobody thinks that, except perhaps you, and if that’s the case, then you need to start listening to someone else.’
Nate looked back. ‘Like you?’
I drew myself up. ‘Maybe. If it’s a choice between demoralising thoughts like that and positive ones, then fine. I’m up for the job.’ I followed this with a salute. I’ve no idea why, having never done this once before in my life. My mother definitely wouldn’t have approved. And now I’d chosen to do it in front of the most gorgeous man I’d ever met. Of course I had. Why wouldn’t I?
On the plus side, that man was now smiling and if it took me making a bit of an idiot of myself to bring out that incredible smile, it might just be worth it.
‘Thanks, Sophia. It’s been a good day. Rocky start, but worked out well I think.’
I thought back to when I’d stood here earlier today, shoving the tub of homemade soup at him and tearing him off a strip for being arrogant and rude. The flush warmed my cheeks despite the chill of the late afternoon.
‘Yes, I think it did.’
‘I should let you get in out of the cold.’
‘Do you… do you want to come in for a coffee or something?’ I asked.
He shook his head. ‘No, but thank you. Maybe another time?’
‘Yes, sure. Of course.’ I was going for casual and hoping I’d nailed it.
‘I’m going to scoot back with this monster and get some more words down while I still feel inspired. It’s the first time it’s happened for a while so I’m trying to make sure I take advantage of it.’
‘That’s great! I’m really pleased to hear it.’ And I was. There was a little less tension in his face and the chill of the day, combined with our brisk pace, had brought some colour to his cheeks, and both suited him.
I bent and gave Bryan a big fuss then stood back. I’d become a bit of a hugger since I’d moved to Wishington Bay, but I quickly decided that might be a bit much for Nate right now. I settled instead for a brief laying of my hand on his arm and a wave before unlocking the door and disappearing inside my flat.
I’d been delighted to find out I enjoyed hugging. My mother had always thought it common and we’d been fervently discouraged as children. On the odd occasion an acquaintance hadn’t got the telepathic message that hugs were not the done thing, she’d stand there rigid as a fire poker until the whole, ghastly experience was over, then walk away. It had seemed normal to me at the time but now when I thought back on those occasions, I felt mortified for the other person who must have been either completely confused, or embarrassed, or possibly both by the sequence of events. It would have horrified my mother to think I had now become ‘one of those ghastly huggers’. I smiled at the thought and made my way up the stairs to my flat.
11
The following weekend I was off shift and making the most of the situation by catching up on some chores early before taking some time out for myself. I glanced over at my phone as it buzzed.
