A Taste of Home by Heidi Swain (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📕

just thinking about things that could help get the farm back on its feet.’

‘What makes you think it needs any help?’ he said, sounding a little defensive.

‘Well, I’ve seen a few things about the place that need attention so I’ve written them down.’

‘What sort of things?’

‘Well, the fruit cages for a start,’ I told him, feeling my temperature rise under his inquisition. ‘A couple of them are torn and if the birds get in, then the protection might as well not be there.’

‘What else?’

‘The strawberry rows need strawing to stop the fruit from resting on the soil and getting spoiled in the rain,’ I said, referring to the second thing on my list.

‘And how do you know about any of this stuff?’ he asked, nodding at the notes I’d made. ‘What do you know about running a fruit farm?’

There was a definite narky edge to his tone and I thought it had more bite behind it than just being nudged to the fore by a sleepless night.

‘You’d be surprised,’ I found myself snapping back.

‘And what’s all this?’ he asked, taking up the paper and turning it over. ‘Wedding venue, barn conversion, farm shop,’ he reeled off. ‘Got plans of your own for Fenview Farm, have you?’

‘No,’ I said, further taken aback by the unkind accusation. ‘Of course not.’

I hoped he didn’t think that I had travelled to Wynbridge with a potential inheritance in mind. That’s not what I had come to Fenview for at all.

‘I was just doing it to fill the time, that’s all.’ I quickly explained. ‘This,’ I said, pointing at the paper he still held, ‘is just my way of letting my mind wander. I need to keep busy. It stops me thinking—’

‘About what?’ he cut in.

‘My mother’s last moments,’ I choked. ‘Watching her last breath leave her body. Seeing the light leave her eyes. Walking to the grave behind her coffin.’

‘Shit,’ Eliot swore, dropping the paper back on the table.

‘Knowing I’ll never feel her arms around me again.’

‘Stop,’ he said, pulling out the chair next to mine and sitting on it. ‘Please, Fliss.’

‘Well you asked. You clearly wanted me to justify the silly scribbles, didn’t you? You wanted me to prove that I haven’t rocked up here with a view to trying to secure myself a Fenland future.’

‘No,’ he said, hanging his head. ‘No, of course not.’

‘Well, that’s what it sounded like to me.’

‘Fuck,’ he said, and then he was back on his feet and pulling me along with him. ‘Come here.’

He wrapped his arms tight around me and my body melded to his in spite of my vain attempt to resist. I was too wound up to cry and too shocked by his proximity to feel anything other than annoyance. If there had been a spark between us the day before, then, for the time being at least, he had succeeded in snuffing it out.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his breath close to my ear. ‘I just worry about Bill. He’s so vulnerable right now and I just want to…’

‘Protect him,’ I said, pulling away. ‘I know, but you really don’t need to protect him from me.’

We looked at each other, as an uncomfortable awkwardness filled the space between us.

‘I’m going for a run,’ I said. ‘Maybe you should think about taking a nap.’

It was a good couple of miles before I had even started to work my way out of the upset Eliot’s reaction to my note-making had shoved me into and even then, it still stung. I could appreciate the second part of my list could have been open to misinterpretation, but it was the fact that he had reacted with such instant suspicion which had taken me aback.

Granted he didn’t know me yet, but he could have framed his curiosity about what I had been scribbling so much better. He might have looked buff in boxers, but thinking so badly of me had turned me off him a bit.

I picked up the pace again and turned back towards the farm, smashing my PB as the farmhouse came into view. My heart was hammering and my breath was sharp in my chest by the time I drew level with the gate.

‘Hey!’ called a voice as I began to stretch out my muscles. ‘Where’s the fire?’

I pulled out my earbuds and spun round, abandoning the series of extra-long stretches I always did after a really hard run. Mr Helpful and his sleek Audi had crept up behind me and I hadn’t heard a thing. I never usually played my music so loud for fear of not hearing traffic but Eliot had got me so fired up I’d shot the volume up as soon as I set off.

‘Oh hey,’ I puffed, still breathing hard.

‘That was some serious speed you gathered back there,’ he beamed, taking off his sunglasses and unashamedly looking at my legs.

I didn’t usually run in shorts, but they were the only thing remotely suitable for exercise that I had with me. That and the halter neck top I had teamed them with. Fortunately, I’d got my running shoes because I never went anywhere without those.

‘I thought I’d better make the effort to burn off all those calories I’d ingested after my spree in the deli,’ I said, making a joke even though I still didn’t feel much in the mood for a laugh.

‘You look just fine to me,’ he said seriously.

I knew my face was already flushed and was pleased he couldn’t see that I was blushing.

‘You left your olive oil in my bag,’ I said, neatly side stepping his comment. ‘You can come and get it if you like.’

I wasn’t sure what Eliot would make of me inviting a stranger in, but given that I was still smarting over our almost argument, I wasn’t all that concerned.

‘What from here?’ asked Mr Helpful, looking at the farm.

‘Yes.’

‘Are you staying here?’

‘Sort of,’ I said, wrinkling my nose as I realised that I’d put my foot in it again and let another local know