by M K Farrar
He led her back through the house. “This is the living room.”
She popped her head around the door to see two comfortable fabric sofas, a coffee table, and a television. “Cosy,” she commented.
“This is the downstairs cloakroom.” He gestured to a closed door. “And this is my office.”
He opened the door to reveal a small space lined with bookshelves. A window offered a view onto the front garden and driveway, and in it was a desk with a computer.
“Is this where you work?”
“Yes, I spend most of my time in here.”
She looked eagerly for some photographs of Kyle when he’d been younger, perhaps as a student, or with his parents when he’d been a child, but the desk, walls, and shelves were disappointingly empty of any nod towards his life before she’d come into it.
The only personal items in the room were the many books lining the shelves. She took that as a good sign. A man who liked to read always went up a notch in her estimation. Her gaze flicked across the spines, reading the titles. There did seem to be a lot of non-fiction, including several titles along the lines of The Best of Britain’s Walks.
“You like to walk?” she asked.
He smiled and cocked a questioning eyebrow. “You seem surprised?”
“Yes...well...no. I don’t know. I suppose you don’t seem like much of a rambler.”
“Not enough tweed?”
She laughed. “Maybe that’s it.”
“I like to walk,” he confirmed. “Especially in remote areas. It’s the one time I feel as though I can escape everything else. No mobile phones. No email. No television or radio. I like to be able to think and, when I’m walking, I find I do my best thinking.”
“So, what comes first? The walking or the thinking?”
He chuckled. “They go hand in hand. That’s the whole point.”
“I see.”
“I grew up in the city,” he continued to explain. “It always felt claustrophobic. So many people everywhere, the houses all on top of one another. Being out in the countryside goes against all of that.”
“But you’re still living in a city,” she pointed out.
“Bristol was a good compromise. I needed to have links for work, but here there are also the Mendip Hills and Cheddar Gorge right on the doorstep.” He stopped to gaze out of the big bay window. “And this isn’t such a bad spot.”
He glanced down at her, affection in his eyes, and she couldn’t help but smile back up at him. No, it wasn’t a bad spot at all. She hoped he would never want to spend any time in her tiny, mould-infested flat, with neighbours surrounding her on every side. She couldn’t even look out of her bedroom window without peering directly into the neighbour on the opposite side of the road.
“Anyway,” he said, flashing her a wide smile, “back to the tour.”
She kicked off her shoes at the bottom of the stairs, not wanting to traipse dirt up there, and he led her to the upper floor. Thick, plush carpets with what must have been the most expensive underlay a person could buy covered the floors, and her feet sank right into it. The carpet was probably thicker than the mattress on her bed.
“There are four bedrooms and a family bathroom. The master bedroom has an en suite.”
“Wow. So many rooms for just one person.”
He flashed her a smile. “I didn’t know how long it would stay only being me, and the house seemed like a good investment. Property prices are climbing every year, and I highly doubt they’ll drop again. I wanted to put down some roots.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
He seemed pleased that she thought so. “Good. Let’s go back downstairs so I can finish cooking.”
Back in the kitchen, she perched on a stool at the island, sipping her wine and chatting while he worked. Her offers to help were shooed away. It seemed he’d prepped almost everything earlier in the day, however, and so only needed to pop a few dishes into the oven. She could hardly believe he’d made such an effort for her.
The food he served was incredible. Scallops gratin to start, slow-cooked lamb with sliced potatoes and baba-ganoush, and two perfectly risen chocolate souffles with cream for dessert. The scallops were cooked to perfection, the lamb melt in the mouth, and the souffle was light and gooey all at the same time.
“Please tell me you eat like this every day,” she sighed, placing her hands over her full stomach.
He chuckled. “Maybe not every day, but I do like the finer things in life.”
What the hell are you doing with me then?
She thought to her kitchen cupboards stocked with baked beans and pasta. His life seemed to be a world away from hers.
“Well, I could certainly get used to this.”
He focused on her with his blue gaze. “I want you to. It’s all part of my cunning plan to make you never want to leave.”
“At this rate, I’m not going anywhere.”
His easy smile was replaced with a frown. “It concerns me, you going back to that place.”
His comment surprised her. “What? My flat?”
“Someone like you should be here instead.”
The area was lovely—so quiet compared to her own road—but there was something about it that felt a little sterile as well. She’d never have said it to Kyle, as he seemed very proud of the house and the close, but she got a feeling everyone behind closed doors here all kept to their own lane. There was a feeling of ‘keeping up with the Joneses’ going on. All the cars in the driveways were sleek and new. The street’s inhabitants all probably had perfect nine-to-fives, with exactly the right number of kids, and wore expensive clothes and took the sort of holidays where people would gasp with delight over their photos. With the exception of a school trip to France when she’d been fifteen, Natalie had never even been abroad.
She didn’t feel as though she’d fit in here at all. She was the one sightseeing, checking out how the other half lived, but she would be spotted a mile off as being an imposter. At least at her flat, she didn’t think for a minute she was going to be judged by anyone for trying to act better than she was.
She wasn’t going to tell Kyle any of this. He wouldn’t understand. She didn’t know much about his background, but she got the feeling he must have come from money. It was rude to ask how he’d been able to afford to buy this place, but he’d said he’d lost his father when he’d only been eighteen, so she had to assume he’d been left a substantial sum then. He worked as well, but computers were an area she knew absolutely nothing about. Perhaps that made him a lot of money, but again, she was far too polite to ask.
“You know I always have to go back to my old life eventually, though,” she said.
“Do you?”
She laughed, suddenly feeling awkward. “Yes, I live there!”
What was he saying—that she didn’t need to go home? That she could stay with him? Surely, they hadn’t known each other long enough for that to be on the cards.
He threw her a lazy smile. “For the moment.”
She’d grown confident with the wine. The lingering glances full of promise excited her. She felt a little wanton, being slightly tipsy in the middle of the day. Being here, with him in this beautiful house, she felt like she could be someone else. Someone who didn’t have the shackles of her past dragging her down.
Kyle stood to carry their plates over to the sink. Natalie rose to her feet as well, picking up the jug that had contained the cream.
She stayed in close, deliberately making sure there was only a matter of inches between them. Her heart fluttered with anticipation, the wine and excitement flushing her cheeks and chest. He turned to find her standing right there, but instead of stepping away again, she only moved in closer.
“Natalie...” he started.
“I wanted to show my thanks for the wonderful meal.”
She set the jug down on the worktop behind him then stood on tiptoes to place a kiss to his lips. Her eyes slipped shut, and he wrapped his hands around h
er back and moved down, pressing her against him.
Their kiss grew more passionate, their tongues tangling. His hands were in her hair, their bodies wedged together. She wanted him. She reached down between them, searching for a hardness she was sure she’d find there.
Kyle sprang away. He locked his fingers in his hair, and he turned his back to her, shaking his head.
Her stomach sank.
How had she read the signals so wrong? What was going on? God, she was mortified. He wanted her, didn’t he? He’d certainly given her all the signs. And what kind of hot-blooded male wouldn’t want a woman he was interested in? Unless he wasn’t interested, of course, but then why would he go to so much effort, and he’d certainly been kissing her as though he’d wanted more.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Her cheeks burned. “What did I do wrong?”
“No, it’s not you.” He faced her again, and she recognised regret in his eyes. “It’s me.”
“That’s a terrible line to use,” she pointed out.
“No, please, hear me out.” He walked back over to her, and she allowed him to take hold of both her hands and tug her down to sit beside him at the kitchen table. “You might have noticed I can be a little old-fashioned with things.”
She had with his manners, perhaps, but not so much anything else.
“Well, here’s the thing,” he said, “I really don’t want to screw this up. I haven’t felt this way about anyone before, and I don’t want us just jumping into bed together. We’ve only known each other what...a week?”
She nodded in agreement.
He continued, “And a week really isn’t very long in a person’s life. We still hardly know anything about each other. I don’t even know what your parents are like.”
She hadn’t expected him to mention her parents again. “You want to know about my parents?”
Was this some kind of trick to find out what kind of stock she came from? Perhaps if she was too lower class, he’d decide they weren’t right for each other. But if that was how he was, perhaps it would be better if they didn’t sleep together after all. She wouldn’t want to be with someone who thought in such a way.
He frowned. “You think I’m being ridiculous, don’t you?”
“No, no. Not at all. Honestly, it’s kind of refreshing.”
“So, you’ll take me to meet them?”
She hadn’t told him the truth about her past, and she didn’t intend to either. But him meeting her mum and dad would be okay, wouldn’t it? She knew her mother would love to meet this handsome, attentive man. It would make Cynthia happy to know her daughter had someone else watching out for her.
She thought of something. “You’re not going to ask my dad for his permission before we sleep together, are you?”
She surprised a laugh out of him. “No, Nat. I promise I’m not a total freak. I want to win your parents over. I certainly won’t mention a single thing about us sleeping together.”
“Phew,” she said and mock wiped sweat off her brow.
Chapter Eight
Her mother couldn’t have been more excited when Natalie had told her she was bringing Kyle down to Devon with her that weekend. There had even been squealing, and her mum never squealed.
Natalie was horribly nervous about the visit. Kyle had offered to drive, naturally, and she knew her parents would love him, but she still worried. She was more concerned about what he’d think of her family home than what they’d think of him, but then he’d seen where she lived in Bristol, so it wasn’t as though he didn’t know that she didn’t come from money.
The relationship was moving fast, but she didn’t want to put the brakes on. Kyle was the first good thing that had happened to her in a long time.
Maybe you deserve this. After everything you went through, you’re allowed a little happiness.
But did she really deserve happiness? She’d killed someone, after all, and ruined her parents’ lives. Maybe what she really deserved was to be alone for the rest of her life.
Kyle picked her up right on time and, before she knew it, they were on the M5, driving back to her childhood home. He was quiet as well, and she could tell he was nervous. He had no reason to be, but then she figured it was only normal for someone to be anxious about meeting a girlfriend’s parents.
Was she even his girlfriend? They hadn’t even had that conversation yet—the one that established them as an official couple—but she didn’t think men were normally keen to meet a woman’s family unless they were serious about the relationship. It was probably silly of her, but she thought she would feel more certain describing them as a couple if they’d actually slept together. She’d turned that moment where he’d jerked away from her touch over in her head so many times, cringing at herself. She tried to figure out if she’d done something wrong, and he was just using the ‘not rushing’ thing as an excuse not to sleep with her. Had she eaten too much garlic or had red wine staining her teeth? Each time she thought back to her touching him like that, and him spinning away from her as though she’d burnt him, she shrank inside.
After forty-five minutes, Kyle took the junction off the motorway, and then they were on the narrow country roads. They passed through several other villages. For ten or fifteen minutes, they would be surrounded by nothing but fields and trees, but then crops of houses, a village shop and a pub, and occasionally a small school appeared as though from out of nowhere.
They reached her parents’ village, and Kyle took the turning towards their road.
Something occurred to her. She hadn’t needed to give him directions the whole way.
“You know where you’re going?” she said curiously.
“Yes, I looked it up before we left.”
She frowned. “Did I give you the address?”
He chuckled. “Of course you did. How else would I have been able to check the route?”
She shook her head, as though trying to dislodge the memory from wherever she’d hidden it. “Sorry, I’m not with it. I can’t remember telling you at all.”
He threw her a smile. “Not that it matters. We’re here now.”
They pulled up outside the house. The front door was already open, and Cynthia Anders was waiting in the doorway.
Natalie loved that her mother was always so eager to see her. She never made Natalie feel unwanted or unloved. Even when they’d been grieving, they’d done their best to make sure she felt as much a part of their family as ever, and that had made her feel even worse.
She threw a nervous smile to Kyle.
“It’ll be fine,” he assured her.
“I’m supposed to be the one reassuring you,” she said.
“What’s to worry about? If they’re as lovely as their daughter, everything will be great.”
She grinned at him. “Charmer.”
He threw her a wink. “Exactly. So nothing to worry about.”
They climbed out of the car together. Natalie picked up on her mother’s excitement, how she was restraining herself from hopping up and down and clapping at the sight of this handsome man her daughter had brought home.
“Hello, darling.” Cynthia gave her daughter a squeeze. She peered past Natalie towards her other visitor. “And this must be Kyle.”
“Mrs Anders, it’s so lovely to meet you.” He leaned in and kissed Natalie’s mother on the cheek.
“It’s lovely to meet you, too,” Cynthia said, sending Natalie a wide-eyed stare of approval. “And call me Cynthia, please.”
Her father lurked in the hallway behind—this was clearly an important meeting for him to have got out of his chair—and Natalie hugged and kissed him hello as well. He was still looking tired, and older than normal, but he gave her a wide smile, clearly pleased to see her.
Kyle put his hand out to her father, and the two men shook. “And Mr Anders, thank you for inviting me into your home.”
“You’re very welcome, and the name’s Glenn. I’m not sure we’ve ever had our Natali
e bringing a man home to meet us.”
“Dad,” she filled her tone with warning. “I’m sure Kyle doesn’t need to know about my dating history.”
“What dating history?” her father teased her.
Natalie rolled her eyes and suppressed a smile. “Thanks, Dad.”
“Come through.” Cynthia ushered them into the living room.
Natalie did her best not to compare the homely, slightly cluttered space with the clean lines and modern décor of Kyle’s house. She hoped he wouldn’t judge her too badly for it. As much as she wanted to tell herself that if he judged her just because of where she’d come from, then he wasn’t the kind of person she should want to be in a relationship with, at the same time, she really wanted him to like her.
Kyle glanced around as they walked in, and his gaze lit upon one of the numerous photographs of Anthony. Her stomach twisted, her anxiety exhibiting as a sudden stab of pain in her guts. Of course, he was going to ask about Anthony. How stupid of her to think otherwise.
“Who’s this?” he enquired.
“Oh, that’s Anthony.” Her mother’s voice was steeped in a combination of pride and sorrow. “Natalie’s older brother.”
Kyle frowned. “Older brother? I thought you said you were an only child.”
Her cheeks burned at being caught out in the lie. What an idiot. She sensed disappointment radiating from her mother as well.
“Sorry. Anthony died a long time ago. That’s why I said I was an only child.”
“Nine years ago,” her mother snapped. “Nine years isn’t that long.”
“No, I didn’t mean it badly. Sorry. But he also wasn’t really my brother—not by blood anyway.”
She was trying to dig herself out of her lie, but she was only making things worse.
Her father frowned. “That’s like saying me and your mum aren’t really your parents, Natalie.”
“It’s not really. That’s different.”
Cynthia pursed her lips. “Why?”