by Elise Noble
“How about I make us both dinner?” I suggested. “I love to cook.”
Anything to break the tension.
That earned me a smile. “That would be lovely, darling. I’ll show you where things are in the kitchen.”
While Tate disappeared to make some phone calls, I whipped up salmon en croute and a crunchy salad. His kitchen had everything a budding chef could possibly desire, and the layout worked beautifully too. I’d got lost in a fantasy of running my own boutique bakery there by the time Tate came back.
“Smells fantastic. Do you need a hand to carry things through to the dining room?”
I gestured at the more convenient table for six at the end of the kitchen. “You don’t eat in here?”
“Rarely. The dining room’s so much more civilised, don’t you think?”
Dining room tables would forever remind me of Edward and his indiscretions, but I forced a smile. “Certainly. I’ll take everything through.”
Tate’s icy mood thawed over dinner, and he did help me lug all the dishes back to the kitchen afterwards. Once we’d loaded the dishwasher, he wrapped both arms around me and nuzzled my neck.
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay here tonight?”
The row of kisses he fluttered across my cheek made me melt inside, and temptation almost got the better of me. But then I remembered Nye and his promise to check on Lilac Cottage overnight. If I arrived home in the early hours, everyone would know exactly what I’d been up to.
“I’ll have to take a rain check. I really should get back.”
The hurt in his eyes almost made me change my mind, but as well as the possibility of looking like a cheap tart, I knew deep down I wasn’t ready to commit to Tate yet. I wanted to go into my next relationship with my eyes open and my heart protected. Tate could be The One, but I needed to make sure before I gave myself to him.
He dropped me home with a promise to call the next day, and I ran to the front door, fearful of the shadows dancing in the garden. The countryside may have looked idyllic during the daytime, but at night, the trees and bushes turned it into the set of a horror movie.
My phone buzzed as I clicked the door closed behind me, and I jumped out of my skin. Tate already?
Nope.
Unknown: Car sorted to check your place tonight. Black Jeep Cherokee. Nye.
He’d kept his word. I quickly added his number to my phone and resisted the urge to put it on speed dial. Being in the same room as Nye made my pulse race, not just because he was kind of scary, but because I didn’t need that complication right now.
The Jeep woke me up three times as it rolled down the driveway, paused for a few minutes, then drove away again. Once, a man climbed out and did a circuit of the cottage. The headlights cast eerie patterns on my bedroom ceiling as they came and went, and each time, I hopped out of bed to check it was the right vehicle.
I should have slept more easily, knowing Blackwood was keeping an eye on me, but when my alarm finally went off, I still felt drained. The roar of Nye’s motorbike engine just after eight did nothing to help my tiredness.
I’d made it as far as the kitchen, and I was about to lever myself out of one of the chairs to fetch my dressing gown when he appeared in the doorway.
I did a pretty convincing impression of a goldfish. “How did you get in? I know I locked the door.”
I’d checked it three times instead of two before I crawled into bed and once more in the night.
He gave me a grin, the first I’d seen from him. It transformed his face from surly into heart-stopping. Literally. He’d better not do that too often.
“You did. I was just making the point that your lock’s shit. A child could get past it.”
“Thanks. That makes me feel so much better.”
“My guy’s coming to upgrade it the day after tomorrow. He couldn’t make it any sooner.”
That was a small comfort. “I really appreciate it.”
Nye grabbed an apple out of the fruit bowl and started munching on it. “Ready to visit Carol?”
He smirked as he said it, and I looked down at my bunny pyjamas. “Do I look ready?”
“I’ve seen worse. Remember the onesie fad?”
“I couldn’t possibly forget—Aunt Ellie’s got a bunch of them downstairs. I’ll wear the pyjamas if you fancy dressing up as a zebra. I’m sure there’s one in your size.”
“Reckon I’m more of a lion.”
Yes, he was. Majestic, predatory, kind of scary.
“Well then, I’m changing, but I need a shower first. How come you’re even awake? I thought you were working last night.”
He shrugged. “I got a couple of hours’ sleep. It’s enough.”
People like that made me feel so inadequate. I dashed up the stairs, determined not to keep him waiting for long.
“Wear jeans,” he shouted as my foot hit the landing.
“Why?”
“How were you planning on getting to Lower Foxford?”
Uh, I hadn’t thought that far ahead. We only had one push bike between us, so that left walking, the bus, or…Nye’s motorcycle.
“Your bike? You want me to ride on the back of your bike?”
“Beats walking. Make sure you wear warm clothes.”
The thought of getting on that two-wheeled beast terrified me. Maybe I could splash out on a taxi? I had Warren’s number handy, and he did say to call him if I needed help. I’d say this qualified. Yes, that was a good plan. I’d just explain to Nye that I’d come up with an alternative solution.
Except when I finished my ablutions, changed, and hurried downstairs, he held out a leather jacket to me.
“Here—I borrowed this for you to wear. It should fit.”
He’d gone to all that trouble? If that was the case, I could hardly insult him by refusing to go, could I? Plus the part of me that still wished to maintain a scrap of dignity didn’t want to admit I was scared, either.
Nye held out the jacket, and I slipped my arms into it. He was right—it fitted perfectly, probably because it was a ladies’ cut. Who did it belong to? His girlfriend? Did she mind that he’d lent it to me?
“Do you take many girls on the back?” I asked, eyeing the bike up with some trepidation.
“Nervous?”
“No, no, not at all. Not me. No way.”
He chuckled. “Don’t worry. I rarely crash.”
Rarely? Oh, that was all right, then. As long as it only happened once in a while.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t find a car more comfortable?”
“The bike does it for me.”
He helped me put on a helmet, then straddled the seat and motioned for me to hop up behind him. The perch on the back looked awfully small—not even a proper seat. How was I supposed to travel on that? And what on earth should I hold on to?
“Just swing your leg over the back,” Nye said. “Then put your feet on the pegs.”
I managed it somewhat inelegantly, and I’d never felt so unstable in my life. What if I tumbled off the back?
“Hold on to my waist.”
Wrap my arms around a virtual stranger? Talk about awkward. I gingerly placed my hands on his hips, thankful for the thick jacket between us, and the bike engine started with a throaty rumble.
Good grief. This was really happening.
“Ready?” he shouted above the noise.
“Never more so.”
He hit the throttle, and gravel spat out behind the back wheel. The bike shot off down the driveway, and I forgot about etiquette as my arms circled Nye’s waist of their own accord.
I could hear him laughing above the noise of the engine as we hit the road. That…that asshole! I was tempted to thump him, but I didn’t dare let go.
The vibrations from the engine did funny things to my insides as we sped along, as did Nye’s proximity. I was hanging on so tight I could feel his muscles rippling under his jacket. Who on earth rode a motorcycle for fun? It was more like torture for me. At
least Nye’s broad back acted as a windbreak; otherwise, I’d have blown away.
By the time Nye pulled over and unpeeled my arms from around his chest ten minutes later, my legs had turned to jelly.
“Are you getting off?” he asked, twisting in his seat to face me.
“Can you give me a few moments?”
“Sure. Wasn’t that fun?”
I flipped up my visor and gave him the dirtiest look I could muster.
Calm down, Olivia. Get your breath back. I needed to retrieve my sanity too, although admittedly, the latter was looking more and more like a lost cause.
When my heartbeat steadied, I swung my leg over the back of the bike and stumbled as my feet hit the ground. Nye hopped off and caught me before I hit the deck, then held me tight against him.
“Are you okay?”
“Uh, I think so.” I nodded half-heartedly. “It was just a little scary.”
“You want me to go slower on the way back?”
It wasn’t just being on the bike that scared me; it was being on the bike with Nye. That engine wasn’t the only thing that exuded power. And the slower he went, the longer I’d have to cling on to him.
“I’ll get used to it.”
He gave me another grin, and his teeth looked even whiter against a day’s worth of dark stubble. “That’s my girl.”
His girl. I wished.
No! I did not just think that. Nye was merely an added complication in my life, and I still hadn’t phoned Sophie to enquire about his credentials.
And of course, he had to confuse me further. His hand brushed against mine as we walked up the path to Carol’s cottage, and prickling heat burned up my arm at each touch. My legs had gone wobbly by the time we reached the front door, and the twitching curtains at the window beside it told me our arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed.
The door opened the second Nye knocked, and a tiny lady with tightly curled white hair looked up at us. She sported one of those painfully perky smiles that would stay in place through anything short of a nuclear explosion.
“You must be Nye. Luke said on the phone you’d be coming.” She gripped Nye’s proffered hand with both of hers. “My, aren’t you the handsome one?”
“Nye Holmes. You’re Carol?”
“That’s right. Are you any relation to Sherlock?”
“I’m afraid not.”
Disappointment flashed across her face, but only for a second. “Never mind. I’m sure Sherlock Holmes didn’t have such big muscles.” She reached up and squeezed Nye’s bicep, and he turned a snort of laughter into a sneeze. “Bless you, dear.”
“I’m pretty sure he was fictional.”
“Maybe so, but he also had Dr. Watson.” She gave me a disapproving look. “You must be Olivia.”
“Yes, Olivia Porter.” I held a hand out, but she barely touched my fingertips.
She turned back to Nye. “You’d better come in, dear. I’ve just made fresh pastries. Or would you prefer a cooked breakfast?”
What did one call a geriatric cougar? Was there a special term for it? She herded Nye into the dining room without taking her eyes off his backside once.
“I’m not all that hungry, thanks.”
“Nonsense. A man like you needs to eat. Here, take a seat.”
She bustled off, presumably to the kitchen, while I sat down opposite a bemused-looking Nye at a table for two.
“Well, at least she likes one of us.”
He rolled his eyes. “Save me.”
“Don’t be so melodramatic.”
“It wasn’t your butt she pinched.”
A bubble of laughter escaped just as Carol came back into the room, and she glared at me as she put a jug of orange juice down on the table.
“There you go, dear. Freshly squeezed.”
I couldn’t stop giggling as she hurried off again. “It’s not the only thing.”
“Is it too early for Scotch? I think I’m gonna need it.”
It didn’t take long for Carol to return with two fried breakfasts. My portion was half the size of Nye’s and had all the burned bits.
“Everything’s made from local produce. Award-winning sausages and home-cured bacon from the Baxters’ farm, eggs laid next door but one, and I made the bread myself.”
She stared at Nye, and he slowly picked up his knife and fork. “You really shouldn’t have.”
“It was no trouble.”
I tried a piece of sausage, and it was actually very good. Nye did the same and swallowed before he focused on Carol again, who’d dragged up an extra chair.
“Tastes perfect. But while we’re here, I was hoping you could help us out with some information.”
“I certainly will if I can.”
“Olivia here’s had a couple of break-ins, and I’m looking for the culprit.”
“Luke Halston-Cain told me you were a private investigator. Do you get to carry a gun?”
“That’s not allowed in the UK.”
Carol’s eyebrows pinched together. “That isn’t much fun, is it?”
The corners of Nye’s lips twitched as he tried to suppress a smile.
“No, it’s not, but it’s probably safer that way. Anyway, those burglaries—Luke reckoned that if anyone might have heard anything about them, it would be you.”
She drew herself up to her full height and preened, obviously proud of her reputation as queen of the gossipmongers.
“I have heard a few things.”
Nye gave her an encouraging smile. “Such as? Anything about Olivia?”
“Oh yes, a lot about her.” She made “her” sound like a curse. “And you’d be wise to watch your step with that one.”
Don’t mind me, lady. I’m only sitting right next to you.
Nye leaned forward a little, and Carol mirrored him.
“Shall I tell you a secret?” he asked.
Her eyes lit up as she nodded.
“I’ve heard those rumours about Olivia myself, but none of them are true.”
“Really? But so many people are saying the same thing.”
“Terrible, isn’t it? Somebody’s trying to ruin her reputation. I can assure you that Olivia’s one of the nicest girls you’ll ever meet, and she definitely isn’t a gold-digger. She runs her own business.”
“What kind of business?”
Carol looked me up and down, no doubt imagining what occupation would befit the black sheep of the village. Home massage? Mail-order sex toys? Or maybe I peddled drugs to small children?
“She designs websites.”
“Are you sure?”
“Her company’s called Webs By Design. She started it five years ago while she was still at university. Her site for Longacres Garden Centre is well worth a look—they’ve got a three-for-two deal on packets of seeds at the moment.” He gestured out of the window at Carol’s immaculate front borders. “You’re obviously fond of gardening.”
Carol twirled one tight curl on a finger. “I’m treasurer of the horticultural society.”
“Well, maybe you could let your members know about the special offer?”
“Absolutely. They all love a bargain.”
Thanks, Nye—at least if Carol was going to spread lies about me, she could also drum up business for one of my clients.
“So, now we’ve established Olivia isn’t the girl you thought she was, you wouldn’t happen to know where the rumours about her originated, would you?”
“I heard them from at least six different people. In the pub, at the WI, in the shops. I can’t quite remember who told me first.”
Nye’s smile faded.
“But I can ask around,” Carol added hastily. “Someone must know, mustn’t they?”
He let her have it, full beam. “I’d be very grateful. And about the break-ins—has anything like that happened before?”
“Our low crime rate is one of the wonderful things about living in the Foxfords. We’ve got an excellent neighbourhood-watch scheme.”
�
�Nobody’s ever got burgled before?”
She shifted in her seat, and Nye didn’t take his gaze off her.
“There may have been a few small incidents, but that was several years ago.” Carol lowered her voice to a whisper. “We don’t tend to talk about those.”
“Why not?”
“The lad’s father was the chairman of the parish council. It all got a bit awkward when Graham had to arrest his son.”
“What was the son’s name?”
“Christopher Johnston. But he went to juvenile detention. You’re not planning to rake up the past, are you? People won’t like that.”
“I’ll try not to cause trouble, but I’m not going to stand by while Olivia gets terrorised.”
“No, no, of course not.”
Nye shoved one last piece of fried bread into his mouth, chewed, and pushed his chair back. “You make a great breakfast.”
“You’re welcome back any time. Both of you. I do hope I’ve been helpful.”
He bent to kiss her on the cheek, and she turned bright red. I understood exactly how she felt.
“Very much so, Carol.”
We left Carol clutching Nye’s business card at the front door, still basking in his aura. With the village about to be set straight over the rumours flying around, even getting back on the bike didn’t seem like such a hurdle.
“What do you think?” I asked Nye as he steadied the bike. “Could it be Christopher?”
“I’ll get the team at head office to find out whether he’s still locked up.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve never met him.”
“You might not have realised it at the time.” He squeezed my hand, now fastened securely around his chest with what was left of my fingernails digging into his leather jacket. “Don’t worry, I’ll find out.”
The ride back to Lilac Cottage didn’t leave me with the same feeling of terror as the first trip, and I even managed to get off without falling over. Nye followed me inside and checked every room plus all the doors and windows before he left.
“I’ll be in touch tomorrow, but if you think of anything in the meantime, call me. Or if you get worried. I’m only at the other end of the phone, okay?”
“Okay.”
“And the patrol will check on you again tonight. Same vehicle.”
