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

barely slept that night. My head was buzzing worse than it had been after any of the champagne I had drunk since my arrival at Fenview Farm. A heady cocktail of thoughts played on a dizzying merry-go-round until it became impossible to separate them.

It was more than obvious, although hopefully only to me, that I hadn’t got my feelings for Eliot anywhere near as under control as I’d hoped. The close proximity of him in the pub, the way my body reacted to the caress of his breath and my disappointment when he hadn’t stopped at the farm gate, were all proof beyond any doubt, not that I really needed it, that I was smitten. Given the effort I’d gone to to try not to be, even going out with Anthony to prove otherwise, it was most frustrating.

And then of course, there was Anthony. I had felt really rather disgruntled that he had assumed I was only out with Eliot to ‘suss him out’. He had implied I had a motive which was guilt inducing, as any motives I did have were entangled in going out with him!

I was going to have to give him up and find a way to set him straight about Eliot and the sooner the better. Dating him hadn’t helped at all so I wouldn’t do it again, even if Bec was going to be denied the delicious details. Not that there would have been any because I felt no desire to kiss Anthony at all.

My simple new life at Fenview Farm was getting far too complicated and I needed to pare it back and focus on the things that mattered most.

I was in the fruit cage, checking the red and blackcurrants when I heard the Ducati the next morning. Both currant varieties looked as though they were going to come in a little earlier than expected, thanks to the continuing good weather, but knowing Eliot was in the vicinity completely threw my calculations on trying to work out when, so I closed and secured the cage and headed back to the house.

He was in the kitchen by the time I had collected the eggs and topped up the hens’ water and, at the mere sight of him, my traitorous heart leapt and clattered about my ribcage with all the intensity of a bucking mule.

‘Morning, Fliss,’ he smiled, sending my BPM even higher.

‘Morning,’ I said, my voice catching as I deposited the eggs into the basket and washed my hands at the sink.

‘Would you like tea, my love?’ Grandad asked. ‘I’m just about to make another pot.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘Thank you. I’m going to get changed and go for a run before it gets too hot.’

Given the sleepless night, I wasn’t really in the mood to run, but I wanted to make myself scarce while the pair of them talked. If I put a mile or two between me and the kitchen door I wouldn’t be tempted to eavesdrop or interrupt, so it wasn’t the worst idea I’d ever had.

‘There aren’t enough strawberries to warrant picking today,’ I added. ‘But I reckon there’ll probably be a few currants by the end of next week.’

‘Mmm,’ groaned Eliot, making the most sensuous yummy noise imaginable. ‘My favourite.’

‘Are they?’ I swallowed.

‘Absolutely,’ he said, torturing me further. ‘Picked fresh from the bush and eaten there and then. I love the way they pop in your mouth and you get that exquisite explosion of flavour. They look so delicate and yet they pack a powerful punch.’

I felt my cheeks start to blaze.

‘Yes,’ I said, as I hastily left the room. ‘They are good, aren’t they?’

Neither he nor Grandad were inside when I went back down and I set off along the drove, trying not to think about the sensations and tastes Eliot had described and focused instead on sending positive vibes to the conversation he was hopefully now embarking upon about my plans.

The Ducati was still there when I returned, so I ducked into the barn to work through my cool down stretches and send a few more encouraging thoughts. As I bent and stretched, I sized the place up again. I imagined it completely transformed, with the catering kitchen next door, the wood burner casting soft shadows around the mellow walls and the sound of contented chat and more yummy noises than even Eliot could muster.

A sound behind me made me jump and I spun round to find him standing there, still with his leathers pushed down to his waist and his T-shirt stretched tight across his broad chest. It was a look that definitely suited him and he wore it extremely well. Even his tousled, uncontrollable hair had a stylish charm. I wondered if it would feel soft to the touch if I ran my fingers through it. The thought sent my heart rate, which had only just steadied after my run, sprinting again.

‘Eliot,’ I gasped, my tone hopefully full of optimism, rather than longing. ‘How did you get on? What did he say?’

His face broke into the broadest smile.

‘Yes,’ he beamed. ‘He said yes. He told me he’d changed his mind and was planning to tell you himself, so you didn’t actually need my help at all.’

‘I don’t believe it!’

‘Well,’ Eliot laughed, ‘you’d better. Bill told me he’s given it more thought and now he’s happy for you to investigate further and go ahead. He said he was taken aback before because it was all so unexpected, and even though he’s still worried about your savings, he knows you’re determined to make it happen, so…’

‘Oh, Eliot.’

Within two strides I was across the barn and had flung myself at him. With his muscular arms wrapped tight around me, I kissed him hard and he kissed me back. The deep groan which escaped him was loaded with lust and I pressed my body tighter against him as my libido leapt even higher in response.

As one we stumbled, and my back made contact with the bales. Effortlessly Eliot lifted