Two days later and he was still feeling under the weather. But he had a farm to run and it didn’t give a damn that he was feeling off. Nick did the only thing he could: rolled up his sleeves and got to work.
He finished fixing the floorboards in the shed’s loft. This time he was careful not to do anything stupid like cutting his hand. As the days passed, Nick reflected on the Telford visit. Going there had been, on one level, disastrous, but it had proven something. He could see Peter and Lana and still live through it. It had brought up guilt and memories he’d been trying to bury for six years, and it had driven him to drink—but he was still here. He’d faced what he’d been putting off and, even though it hurt, it hadn’t killed him. There was something to that.
Nick held on to that thought and it gave him a new appreciation of what he still had. There was a fire being kindled inside him—okay, so maybe it was only a spark, but it was there nonetheless. It renewed his desire to fix Winters Hill up and get it back on track. It also pushed him into thinking that maybe he could have something more than just the farm.
He took that notion and ran with it. The other night, when he’d taken Jules out, it had been good, nice—even fun. Jules not only made him feel comfortable but she made him laugh. By the time the night was over he remembered sitting in his ute and smiling. She made him feel…light. Nick frowned. That was a weird way of putting it, but it was true. He liked the feeling and he wanted it to keep going.
He put the hammer down and dug his phone out of his jeans. He blew out a breath to centre himself before he dialled the number. Anticipation was always a killer. He waited as it rang once, twice…He almost lost his nerve and hung up.
‘Hello?’
‘Oh, hey, Jules. It’s Nick—I hope I haven’t got you at a bad time?’
‘No, not at all. I was wondering if you were going to call.’
‘You were?’
‘Yeah, I figured I’d give you another week but if you hadn’t called by then I was going to ring you.’
‘Really, you could have…I mean…um.’
‘I just didn’t want to put any pressure on you. Anyway, I’m glad you called so what’s up?’
‘I was just wondering if you were coming up soon? I thought maybe…if you wanted to…we could go out again?’
‘Sounds good. I can’t make it this weekend, but I’ll be there the following one. Does that work?’
‘Sure does. How about I call you next week and we’ll organise something? Maybe dinner in Bendigo or over at Violet Falls?’
‘Great! I’ll talk to you soon. Take care, Nick.’
‘You too. Bye, Jules.’
Nick stuffed the phone back in his pocket. Suddenly the day seemed brighter. With a smile on his face, he picked up the hammer and continued nailing the floorboards. Life was changing, evolving, looking up—which was refreshing. Nick was willing to go with the flow and adapt with it. In fact, the only burning question that surfaced at the moment was: Why the hell don’t I own a nail gun?
***
Tash was the worst person in the world. Okay, perhaps not the worst, but close. She was sitting opposite a delightful man who appeared to be interested in her. Tash winced. Damn, that sounded like something Gran would have said. But that was just it: Gilbert Sinclair was delightful and charming and handsome. He smiled and wanted to know what she thought, what she loved, and everything else about her. The problem was Tash wanted to be anywhere but here. It wasn’t fair—not to her, or to Gilbert.
‘What do you think of the ambience? I was going for a funky urban feel, but with a degree of intimacy.’ Gilbert’s eyes warmed as he said those last words. It wasn’t lost on Tash, but she kind of wished it had been.
‘I think you’ve nailed it. Sinclair’s is wonderful. You must be very pleased.’
Gilbert gave a shrug.
‘I am. But I’ve poured myself into this place and sometimes I forget how to interact with other people. It’s been all about getting the place up and running and my personal life has suffered for it.’
‘Oh, you mean you have a personal life?’ Tash said with a smile.
Gilbert chuckled.
‘Generally not. I figure it would be the same for you?’
‘Pretty much, but I don’t think The Gumnut Bakery and Sinclair’s are in the same league.’
‘Don’t say that. You’ve worked hard to secure your bakery’s future, just like I have. Different businesses, but the essence and drive is still the same.’ He reached over and took her hand. ‘Don’t sell yourself short, Natasha.’
Tash smiled and extracted her hand after a polite moment. She had to admit that she liked the way her name rolled off Gilbert’s tongue, but that was no reason to lose her head. She should be sensible about this.
‘You’re right, I shouldn’t belittle The Gumnut’s achievements. Alex and I have come a long way since we took over.’
‘Exactly. You should be proud of everything you’ve done. I know I am about what I’ve achieved here.’
‘You should be, I’ve read a couple of the reviews in the local paper—everyone loves it.’
‘Well, it’s the way you approach your place. I’m all about fresh, locally sourced produce and a whole lot of love. Because if you don’t have a passion for your work then nobody else will. I know that sounds crazy, but you can taste it in the food.’
Tash sat back in her chair and glanced at Gilbert.
‘That doesn’t sound crazy at all.’
‘Glad we’re on the same page.’
If that was only true about everything else. Since they first met, Gilbert had been amicable towards Tash, and had fallen in love with her bread—which was always a bonus, in her view. But there was something else below the friendliness. Tash was known to miss the obvious when it came to the opposite sex, but even she could tell that Gilbert was interested in her. Which was flattering, but Tash had still resisted when he asked her out. She didn’t say anything to Bec or Sally because she knew how the conversation would play out.
A successful, seemingly decent, articulate guy asked you out…You’re going.
At least that’s how Tash figured the whole conversation would have gone down. Bec, stating the obvious, and Sally backing her up. So she had decided to keep Gilbert’s invitation to herself. And he was perfect. Well, she was sure he wasn’t because no one ever is, but on face value, Gilbert had a confident air about him, not in a condescending way but as a man who seemed to know who he was. And the fact that he was about six feet tall with laughing blue eyes and was easy to talk to didn’t help. She guessed that he was several years older than her, maybe thirty, about the same age as Nick. Under different circumstances, Tash would easily have been drawn to him.
She knew that she’d been pining for Nick, which was crazy as they had barely had a decent conversation in…how many years? Tash was still reeling from his date with Jules. Any normal person would see this for what it was—absolutely nothing. She and Nick had never made any promises, and she was under no illusion there was anything between them. So why did it hurt so much?
Tash had to accept that whatever she may have felt for Nick, it wasn’t reciprocated. Ever since she had first met him, she had felt something special—even when he was with Sophie—and deep inside she knew that was wrong. After the terrible event, she felt nothing but pity for him, but gradually her feelings coalesced into something more; something hard to define. But now, for all she knew, he didn’t even know or give a second thought about her. So when Gilbert asked Tash out for the third time, she had accepted. Nick was making a life for himself; it was about time she did the same. She told herself that this evening with Gilbert was more of a work thing—at least, that’s what she told Alex. But judging from the way he looked at her, she knew that Alex didn’t believe her any more than she did.
Dinner with Gilbert had started off well, but sometime between the entree and the main meal, Tash realised it was a mistake. Everyone knew that you should never mix business with pleasur
e, and here she was up to her neck in it. That aside, the real problem was that she just wanted to go home and be by herself and wallow in self-pity.
‘You know, Natasha, I think we should do this again,’ Gilbert said.
‘I’ve really enjoyed dinner, but I’m not…’
‘Ah, I see. You’re not looking for anything serious right now.’
Tash nodded.
‘Something like that.’
‘I’ve caught you at a bad time.’
‘Let’s just say it’s complicated.’
‘Ah, well, that’s never a good thing.’ He said as he picked up his wineglass and took a sip. ‘Then how about occasional dinner?’
‘Um…’
‘It’s just dinner, Natasha, nothing more. We’ve all got to eat.’
‘I guess you’re right.’ She smiled. ‘Yes, I think I could do that.’
‘Excellent. So occasional dinner and we’ll take it from there.’
‘Gilbert, it may not go anywhere.’
‘I understand, but let’s see what happens,’ he said with a smile.
***
‘So how come you couldn’t make it for the girls’ night?’ Sally asked as she settled on Tash’s couch. ‘We had two of the most romantic tear-worthy DVDs lined up and Bec even cooked nachos—which was a miracle in itself as Bec never cooks.’
‘Sorry about that,’ she said as she sat down next to Bec. She glanced at her friend, her eyes widening in mock horror. ‘You cooked?’
‘Yes, and it was triumphant—too bad you ditched us.’
‘Maybe I can get a raincheck?’
‘No worries, we’d be happy to do it again,’ Bec said.
‘Was there a reason you couldn’t make it? I mean a real, juicy, gossip-worthy reason?’ Sally asked as she reached for her coffee cup.
‘I went on a date.’
‘A date!’ Bec and Sally said in unison.
‘God, you make it sound like it never happens.’
‘That’s because it doesn’t,’ Bec said as she nabbed one of Tash’s raspberry muffins. She bit into it. ‘Mmm, this is good.’
‘I know.’ Tash smiled. ‘The secret is Mrs Alcon’s raspberries. You know hers are the best in the district.’
‘Oh, they’re good—I mean really, really good.’ Bec said before she took another bite. ‘Are you selling these in the bakery?’
‘Nope, private hoard. Only the people I like get them.’
‘Hey, stop changing the subject. I want to hear who, where and why the hell we are just finding out about it now,’ Sally said.
‘Okay, okay.’ Tash sat back. ‘I know you shouldn’t mix business with pleasure, but I met Gilbert through work. He owns Sinclair’s restaurant in Bendigo and buys his bread from The Gumnut.’
‘So you met him when he came into the shop?’
‘Not exactly…He’s one of my new contracts.’
‘Oh.’ Again, Sally and Bec in unison.
‘What the hell does that mean?’
‘Nothing. So what’s he like?’ Bec asked.
‘Tall, blond and successful.’
‘Well, that sounds promising,’ Sally said. ‘I particularly like the tall and successful bits.’
‘Yep, so far, can’t fault anything,’ Bec said as she reached for another muffin. ‘Is he hot?’
‘I think the question is—is he nice?’ Sally corrected, as she helped herself to a muffin.
‘Nup, I stand by the original question.’ Bec took another bite.
‘Yes, to answer you both,’ Tash said. ‘Gilbert is lovely and I had a nice evening with him.’
‘Oh, damn. And I thought it was going well.’ Bec frowned.
‘What do you mean? I said I had a nice time.’
‘Oh God, it’s going from bad to worse,’ Bec said with a sad shake of her head. ‘First lovely and then nice…No hope at all.’
‘She’s right, you know.’ Sally sighed. ‘Gilbert’s already doomed. Best cut your losses and move on.’
‘For goodness sake, what the hell are you two talking about?’ Tash cried.
‘There’s no passion or lust or, well, anything,’ Bec said. ‘As Sally said, doomed before it really began.’
‘That’s not fair. I did have a nice time. I didn’t think I was going to and that maybe agreeing to go was a mistake, but it was…’
‘Nice!’ Bec said. ‘Nice isn’t going to cut it—we all know that. I’m glad that you’re getting out and meeting men, but this isn’t Mr Forever.’
‘Doesn’t even sound like Mr Right Now,’ Sally chipped in.
Tash took a breath.
‘You’re right. I knew that I shouldn’t have gone even as I said yes. Gilbert is nice and handsome and owns a successful restaurant, but I’m not sure he’s for me. He’s looking for something that I can’t give him, not yet…Probably not ever.’
Bec leaned over and squeezed your hand.
‘Your heart’s still somewhere else?’
Tash nodded.
‘But that won’t do me any good, either. Nick chose Jules and I have to accept that and be happy for them.’
‘I’m sorry that you have feelings for him,’ Bec said. ‘But you know rebound dates never pan out.’
‘They should be called bridging dates,’ Sally said. ‘They’re the practice dates you have before the real one. Their only function is to get you back in the saddle.’
‘Now I feel like I’m using Gilbert! I really am the worst in the world,’ Tash said as she looked down at her half-empty coffee cup.
‘No, you’re not. But maybe you should explore these bridging dates a bit further.’
Tash frowned as she glanced back at Bec.
‘What do you mean?’
‘That maybe you deserve a little fun. You haven’t been out for a long time.’
‘I just went to dinner with Gilbert, remember?’
‘Yes, but that was only one time,’ Sally said. ‘You need a little fun with benefits. Perhaps this Gilbert isn’t the one, but maybe you should give him a chance. Come on, Tash, you’re in the middle of a long drought!’
‘What has the weather go to do with…Oh, I see what you mean. But, hey, I date.’
Bec let out a laugh as Sally shook her head.
‘Talk about being in denial.’
‘Tell us the last time you went out with anyone or had a hot and heavy encounter with anyone,’ Bec said. ‘Do you even remember?’
‘Oh that’s harsh,’ Tash said. ‘You know I’ve been busy with getting the bakery up and running.’
‘Yes, you work really hard, we all do. When was the last time you kissed a man?’
Tash winced. The problem was she had to actually take a second and think—damn it. ‘Well, there was that…oh…you know…what’s his name from over at Violet Falls? Flynn Hartley.’
Bec rolled her eyes.
‘Bloody hell, Tash, that was well over two years ago. And how could you forget his name? Come on, you can do better than that.’
‘Alright, what about Darren Armstrong? I kissed him last Christmas.’
‘That was the Christmas before last and only because you were accidentally standing under the mistletoe,’ Sally said as she took a muffin. ‘You know, I think these are my favourite.’
‘You say that about every new recipe,’ Tash said. ‘I was thinking about doing a caramel and hazelnut one, should I?’
‘Wait, how can anyone stand accidently anywhere?’ Bec asked.
‘Don’t you remember?’ Sally said. ‘Hal and Diane were devouring each other at the party, and young Tony Feldon took exception to it. Apparently, she’d been seeing him the week before. There was a scuffle and Tash jumped away before they could knock into her.’
‘Right,’ Bec said with a laugh. ‘And that how she found herself under the mistletoe.’
‘And Darren took the opportunity to step in and sweep her off her feet—literally.’
‘I remember now, it was a good night.’ Bec turned to Tash. ‘But T
ash, Sally’s right. We’re starting to worry about you, that’s all. You’re burying yourself in the bakery.’
The comment struck a nerve.
‘Hey, I’m not the only one that does that, remember? What about your farm?’
Bec nodded.
‘I’m not trying to upset you. And you’re right, I did exactly the same thing. I hid away for far too long because of that fiasco with Zane. But, you see, I had these two bossy friends that asked the hard questions and gave me a boot up the bum. And if it wasn’t for them prodding me and pointing me in the right direction, I may never have ended up with Matt.’
Sally looked up.
‘Hey, who are you calling bossy?’
Bec gave her a pat on the shoulder.
‘You do realise that you go into teacher mode when you’re labouring a point, don’t you?’
Sally chuckled. ‘Okay, maybe I do.’
Tash smiled, she couldn’t help it.
‘We love you and want you to be happy. That’s the only reason we’re pushing,’ Bec said.
‘You were always a pain in the butt,’ Tash said to Bec with laughter in her eyes.
‘Damn right, it’s my job.’
‘Alright, I promise I’ll give this a try. Now can we change the subject and eat?’
***
It was an old book with a blue cloth cover. There was nothing threatening about it, but it still managed to send a shiver through Nick. He stood in front of his wardrobe and frowned at the book in his hand. He’d thought he’d put it in the chests with the rest of Sophie’s belongings. It was a collection of fairytale stories that once belonged to Sophie’s grandmother. It had been dear to her because she remembered her gran reading them to her. Flicking through the pages he saw some of the familiar black-and-white illustrations.
Nick had been looking for his favourite shirt. He thought that maybe he had stuffed it onto the wardrobe top shelf, and he’d been feeling around when his hand closed over the book.
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