Page 49 of Winter at Wishington Bay
My eyes widened. ‘No!’
‘Not that he told me. I only found that out more recently. And now I know he certainly wasn’t the only one.’
‘Nate, I’m so sorry. You’re a lovely man. You deserve better than that.’
He turned, his blue eyes holding my gaze. ‘I’m sure if I’d told you that the first time we met, you’d have said I deserved everything I got.’
‘No, I wouldn’t have. No one deserves to have their heart broken. Even if they do come across as rather grumpy and appear to question my brilliant cleaning skills.’
He closed his eyes but a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Opening them again, he looked back at me. ‘Was I that bad?’
‘Yes. But luckily I’ve forgiven you.’
‘Lucky.’
‘Yes, you’ve grown on me.’ I pushed the breakfast stool back and slid down. ‘Like a fungus.’
He laughed, the sound filling the room with joy.
‘I’m not sure whether to say thanks to that or not. I think I’m pleased about the first bit, but I might have to come back to you on the fungus part.’
I swiped the plate from in front of him and made a move towards the mug.
‘I can do that.’
‘I’m here to clean.’
‘I can put stuff in the dishwasher.’
‘You’re supposed to be writing.’
‘I will be, shortly.’
‘Good. Right,’ I said, grabbing the cleaning caddy. ‘I’m going to start upstairs so you can get stuck in.’
Nate smiled, raised a hand and turned back to where his laptop sat on the table.
* * *
I fluffed the cushions one more time, stepped back to the door and snapped a picture on my phone.
‘Why do you photograph things when you’ve cleaned?’ The deep voice broke into my cleaning fairy reverie and I jumped.
‘Jeez, where did you come from?’
‘Downstairs,’ he answered honestly.
‘How can someone so big be so quiet?’
He shrugged broad shoulders. ‘Serena’s a really light sleeper. I guess I got used to creeping around when I had an early start.’
‘Well, try to make some noise now, if you can. You’re going to give me a heart attack popping up behind me like that.’
‘I’ll work on it.’
‘Thanks.’
‘So,’ he nodded his head at my phone. ‘What’s with the photographs?’
