by Heidi Swain
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Anthony whispered, with a theatrical wink.
I could have thumped him.
‘Crikey, it’s rammed in here tonight,’ Eliot said, once he’d weaved his way through everyone not lucky enough to secure a seat. ‘Sorry I took so long.’
‘No worries,’ I told him. ‘I had no idea the place was so popular.’
He shifted a little closer and leant in to make himself heard as the level of chatter escalated.
‘I have to say I absolutely love your idea for the barn,’ he restated, his soft breath caressing my neck and making my spine tingle. ‘The farm is the perfect setting and the old building is ideal. Just the right size and with everything you need to adapt and convert right within reach. It’s going to be amazing.’
‘Well,’ I said, ‘it would be amazing if Grandad felt the same way as you.’
‘What do you mean?’ he asked, pulling back a little to look at my face.
Our heads were very close together.
‘He’s said no,’ I swallowed.
‘Oh.’
‘He won’t even entertain the idea, let alone let me put any of my own money into getting it up and running.’
‘Well,’ he said, leaning in again, ‘knowing him as well as I do, I can understand that he would be reluctant about that, but it’s such a brilliant idea. Has he given you a reason, other than him not wanting you to spend your money, I mean?’
‘No,’ I said, ‘and that’s the most frustrating thing. If he would only explain then I might be able to accept his refusal, but as it is, I just can’t let it go. I can picture it all in my head and I know there’s the demand for something like it around here.’
‘It would be lovely to have somewhere special to go in the evenings that’s not too far afield.’ Eliot pondered, further confirming what others had already said.
‘Precisely.’
‘And it would be even lovelier to see local food showcased by the folk who grow it.’
‘My point exactly.’
‘Having access to food from all over the world at any time of year is wonderful in its way, but personally, I don’t think you can beat seasonal eating and local food. There’s nothing better than a bit of rare breed pork from Skylark Farm, served with their apple sauce and cider or any of the fruit from your farm, Fliss, picked and eaten within the day.’
‘Quite,’ I agreed, swooning a little as I realised that he was as passionate about local food as I was and that he’d grasped exactly what I wanted the supper club to represent.
‘Would you like me to talk to Bill?’ he then offered, tipping me completely over the edge. ‘Do you think he’ll mind that you’ve talked to me about what you have in mind?’
‘That was actually the favour I was going to ask,’ I said, resisting the urge to throw my arms around him. ‘And to be honest, I think he’ll be delighted that I’ve talked to you. He trusts you more than anyone and he truly values your opinion.’
‘He does?’ Eliot asked, fixing me with his dark eyes.
I wondered if my pupils were as dilated as his.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘He does.’
‘I’ll talk to him tomorrow then,’ Eliot beamed.
‘Thank you,’ I said, finally looking away.
With plans arranged, we left the pub together and I followed his bike out of town. When we reached the yard, he slowed down, looked over his shoulder and waved and then accelerated away. I tried to push away the pang of disappointment that struck as I watched him become a speck on the horizon and I was denied the opportunity to say a more intimate goodnight, but it refused to budge.
Chapter 20
I 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 tou
ch 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 me up on to the stack. I ran my fingers across his chest while his hands held my face and he moved his body closer again, this time filling the space between my legs. Our kisses were rough, and arousing and my back arched in response. I wrapped my legs tight around his waist and urgently pulled him closer in. His leathers felt hard between us, at least I think it was his leathers.
Just for the briefest moment he pulled away again and our eyes met. I loosened my grip a little and he smiled, his breath every bit as hard and fast as mine. For those few seconds we’d let our guard down and released the safety valve. We’d given in to something we’d both been trying so hard to suppress. Had he not broken away, I know I wouldn’t have been able to stop, but he had…
‘Oh my god, Eliot,’ I gasped, the words escaping in a rush on the out breath. ‘I’m so sorry. That was terrible!’
He released me and I jumped down from the bale, my face aflame with a heady mix of desire, shock and shame.
‘And there was me,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘thinking it felt absolutely perfect.’
He was right. It was perfect, but given that we’d vowed to not let it happen, it was also forbidden which in turn made it terrible.
‘You know what I mean,’ I said, my heart racing far faster than it had been during and after my run. ‘I shouldn’t have done that. I don’t know what came over me.’
He looked at me and cocked his head. ‘Well,’ he said, smiling as he readjusted his suit, ‘it was most likely one of two things. Either my ridiculously rugged good looks finally wore you down and you gave in to temptation, or it was sheer relief that your amazing idea has been given the go-ahead.’
I couldn’t stifle the laugh which bubbled up as much out of relief that he was able to make light of what I’d done, as anything else.
‘Or possibly both,’ he carried on, as if he was mulling over some complicated scientific theory on the laws of attraction. ‘I don’t mind whichever it was, it was still a bloody brilliant kiss.’
‘Yes,’ I huskily agreed. ‘It was rather, wasn’t it?’
It was even better than I’d imagined it would be and, since I’d arrived in Wynbridge, I’d imagined it a lot.
‘But,’ he added, ‘we probably shouldn’t let it happen again…’
As devastating as that was, I knew he was right.
‘Absolutely,’ I agreed. ‘It was just a one-off momentary lapse of the agreement we made to keep our feelings firmly under control.’
‘A lapse on your part,’ he teasingly pointed out. ‘I was just standing here when you…’
‘Well,’ I butted in, ‘you did reciprocate.’
‘It would have been rude not to.’
This wasn’t putting any distance between us and what had just happened at all. It was far too flirty.
‘Well, whatever,’ I carried on, attempting to draw a line. ‘As you said, it was a spontaneous reaction to the supper club idea getting the go-ahead.’
‘Yes, that was most likely it.’
We stood in silence for a moment and then he took a step towards me again.
‘But the thing is,’ he began, ‘I’ve been thinking about our agreement, and I’m not sure…’
‘Fliss?’ came Grandad’s voice from the yard and we sprang apart.
‘Yes,’ I called back. My voice sounded surprisingly normal given what had just happened. ‘I’m here. I’m coming.’
Eliot grinned and I knew exactly what he was thinking.
‘I better get going,’ he said, heading for the barn door. ‘I’m expected at work, but I was pleased to be of some use this morning.’
I wondered whether he was referring to his, as it turned out unnecessary, role as mediator or the more unusual one of willing recipient of my passionate kisses. I was also curious to know what it was about our agreement that he suddenly wasn’t so sure about.
‘Has he told you?’ Grandad asked, stepping into the barn. ‘Has he told you that I’ve changed my mind?’
‘He has, Grandad,’ I said, rushing to give him a hug. ‘And I’m so excited. This project is really going to put Fenview Farm on the map.’
He hugged me tightly back and I felt a surge of happiness course through me.
‘I’m still not sure about you putting in your own money though,’ he said, looking worried when we broke apart.
‘Let’s go back to the house,’ I suggested, ‘and we can talk it all through properly.’
‘I’ll see you both later,’ said Eliot. ‘And not that it’s anything to do with me, but I think you’ve made the right decision, Bill. Fliss is one very passionate and ambitious woman. She’s going to make a success of this.’
‘You’re right my lad,’ Grandad agreed.
‘She’s like those currants I love.’ Eliot winked, as he pulled on his gloves. ‘Delicate on the outside but inside she packs one heck of a punch.’
* * *
By the end of the day, the secret supper club (as we had taken to unofficially calling it) had Grandad’s unconditional blessing and I had drafted up an action plan which suited us both. Grandad was insistent that I shouldn’t rush headlong into the venture and, even though I was keen to forge ahead I understood his concerns and I also appreciated the value of thorough market research and careful financial planning. I would only get one shot at this project and was willing to do everything in my power, and by the book, to ensure the SSC was an unmitigated success.
Therefore, between that fateful Saturday in May and the end of the year, it was decided that I was going to be managing the harvest while sounding out local demand – both from producers and potential club members as well as getting in quotes for the kitchen and cloakroom installations and finding out what building regulations we would need to comply with as well as what permission from the local authorities.
It wasn’t going to be a speedy process, but given that just a few weeks ago, I had no idea that Grandad and Fenview Farm even existed, I didn’t think that a slow burn would be such a bad idea. After all, the total transformation of both our lives was proving to be a steep learning curve, so pacing ourselves would make it all far more manageable.
For the rest of that day, I forced myself (not always successfully) not to think about what had happened with Eliot in the barn, or speculate on what he had been going to say before Grandad found us.
It was exasperating to think that just as I had vowed to pare back my life, I’d completely lost control of my emotions, along with all common sense, and succumbed to my feelings. Both my body and my brain had taken full advantage of the unguarded situation and I’d foolishly allowed another complication in. I couldn’t deny it was an utterly seductive few seconds, but I hoped I’d be able to keep myself in check from then on in.
Mum’s presence felt very strong that afte
rnoon and I knew she would have been mightily impressed that I had done something so spontaneous, that I’d let my heart rule my head without a thought for the consequences. But then that was her all over. She’d always been an act first, think later, type of woman and with mixed degrees of success. As a rule, I stuck to the rational and sensible path and that was where I was firmly planting my feet again.
Grandad and I had just finished clearing away after dinner that evening when the Banana-mobile arrived.
‘Evening, Bec,’ said Grandad, as he took in her smiling face. ‘You’re looking happy tonight, my love.’
‘I’m in a good mood and I’m off to the pub,’ she beamed. ‘I wondered if you might fancy it, Fliss?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Grandad, before I had even opened my mouth. ‘You should go, you’ve got plenty to celebrate.’
‘So have you,’ I pointed out. ‘Why don’t you come with us?’
‘Yes, do,’ said Bec. ‘The more the merrier. What are we celebrating?’
‘I don’t think I could keep pace with you, young things,’ he chuckled. ‘But you should definitely go Fliss. Spread the word about our plans.’
‘What plans are these?’ Bec asked again.
‘Or alternatively,’ he said, noticing Bec’s inquisitive expression, ‘just tell Bec here and let her do the rest for you.’
‘Hey,’ she protested. ‘I’m not that bad.’
‘I know plenty of folk who would beg to differ,’ Grandad good naturedly pointed out.
‘Is it anything to do with my brother by any chance?’ she guessed, not bothering to further defend her inability to keep a secret.
‘Sort of,’ Grandad and I said together.
‘I knew something was up,’ she mused. ‘He came home in a really weird mood earlier. It wouldn’t have anything to do with you and him, would it, Fliss?’
‘No,’ I said, blushing so hotly, that I had to turn away. ‘Of course not.’
Struggling again to push the memory and resultant tingling sensations aside, I gave myself a shake and almost made myself laugh out loud by mentally vowing that there would be no more pouncing on the hot biker.
