Meet Me at Wisteria Cottage

by Teresa F. Morgan

  Although in case it went wrong, Maddy grabbed a packet sauce off the shelf too.

  Because she didn’t know what time Harry was due home, she had everything prepared in his kitchen. To complement the steaks, she’d picked up a couple of bottles of red wine, and decided to open one while she waited.

  Harry’s back garden was north facing, which made sense as hers was south facing – their houses were opposite one another. But it meant his back garden was now mostly in the shade unless she sat at the front, so she sat outside his front door, on the step, facing the sun and sipped her wine, the sun warm on her face. The only problem was it meant she was staring at her house and feeling useless. She would chase the insurance company on Monday.

  Sookie trotted over, rubbed her head against Maddy’s leg and purred. Maddy had already fed her, which would keep her out of the way. Sookie made herself comfortable on the drive sunbathing and swishing her tail.

  Around half past six, Harry reversed his pickup onto the driveway. He got out of the truck and immediately stripped off his T-shirt.

  ‘Hey,’ he said, using his T-shirt to wipe the sweat off his face. ‘Been waiting long?’

  ‘No.’ Maddy stood up, empty wine glass in hand, and tried to keep her eyes focused on his, and not on his tanned, muscular flesh. His skin gleamed with sweat, and his torso was lightly covered with dark swirls of hair; not too much, enough to be manly but not ape-like. She imagined what it would feel like, her fingers combing through the curls and up his solid chest.

  ‘Any wine left for me?’

  ‘Oh, uh, yes of course.’ Maddy blinked, shaking out of her reverie. ‘I poured myself a glass while preparing dinner. It’s nothing complicated. It won’t take long to cook so I thought I’d make the most of the evening sunshine until you came home.’

  ‘Do you mind if I shower first?’ He showed his hands, palms up. They were ingrained with dirt.

  ‘No, no, I’ll start cooking – the potatoes may need twenty minutes.’

  ‘I’ll be ten.’

  ‘Wait. Um … how do you like your steak cooked?’

  ‘Medium rare.’

  ‘Great, like me. I mean, that’s how I like my steak …’ Oh shut up and cook the dinner, woman. The man’s half nakedness had gone to her head. Yet, she’d seen it plenty of times. Only now she knew Harry wasn’t as obnoxious as she’d always assumed, it obviously affected her differently.

  Harry came down the stairs ten minutes later drying his hair with a small towel. He placed the towel over the chair and came into the kitchen, reaching above Maddy’s head to get a wine glass.

  Wearing a clean T-shirt and a pair of shorts, he smelt fresh with a hint of a spicy aroma. She couldn’t remember Connor ever smelling so good. Maddy tried to shift her concentration back to stirring the peppercorn sauce rather than the presence of Harry – with great difficulty. He leaned over her and sniffed the sauce. He wasn’t even touching her, but sensing him, inches away from her, made Maddy’s body temperature rise.

  It’s not Harry; it’s standing over a hot stove.

  ‘Looks good.’ Harry leaned against the counter, pouring himself a glass of wine, then topping Maddy’s up.

  ‘Thought I’d keep it simple. Now go sit down, this kitchen isn’t big enough for the two of us.’ Literally. Harry was taking up so much airspace, Maddy couldn’t breathe.

  Harry did as he was told, and the temperature in the kitchen dropped. With Harry out of the way, Maddy was able to focus on the steaks and the sauce and managed not to burn anything. Satisfied, she placed the plates on the table and sat down.

  ‘This looks fabulous,’ Harry said, cutting up his steak. ‘Did you see I’d fixed your back gate?’

  ‘Yes, when I came home I got my washing in. When did you do it?’

  ‘This morning, thought I’d get it over and done with, and then we know the back of your house will be more secure.’ It sounded like he wanted the reassurance as much as Maddy. ‘I’ve got a lock to put on it.’

  ‘Tell me how much I owe you, won’t you? I’ll talk to my insurance company on Monday.’

  Harry nodded whilst chewing. ‘I’ve kept the receipts.’

  After dinner, Harry washed up the plates and cutlery. He studied the bottle of red Maddy had opened. There was enough left for a small glass each.

  ‘Tell you what, shall we go to the pub?’ Harry suggested, to Maddy’s surprise.

  Maddy hesitated. It would beat being stuck in front of the television, and it was a warm Saturday evening. She wouldn’t feel so on edge being in a house with a man she hardly knew. ‘Yes, all right, why not. But can I get freshened up first? I need a shower, too.’

  ***

  Harry and Maddy walked to the pub on the high street; the Molesworth Arms was only a fifteen-minute stroll downhill. Harry had waited patiently for the half an hour it had taken Maddy to shower, put fresh clothes on and apply some make-up. In his opinion, she didn’t need the make-up to make her look more attractive, yet he couldn’t deny the dark eyeliner and mascara highlighted her stunning green eyes. She wore her hair loose, the front curling, framing her oval face.

  ‘You grab a table; I’ll get the drinks. Shall we share a bottle of red?’ Harry said as they entered the pub. Warm, muggy air engulfed them as they entered and he realised he’d placed his hand on her lower back. He quickly took it away, shoving his hand into his pocket. If she’d noticed she said nothing.

  ‘Yes, let’s. Shall we sit outside?’

  ‘Yeah, sure, it’s still warm. We can come in if it gets chilly.’

  Harry brought out the bottle of Australian Shiraz and two large wine glasses, joining Maddy at a picnic table out the front of the pub. The high street was pedestrian-access only so it was a great place to people-watch. The 16th century, white-washed pub was idyllic this time of year with hanging baskets and window boxes bursting with a mix of trailing flowers and cerise petunias tumbled down over the front pillars of the entrance. He poured the wine and opted to sit opposite her, fearing next to her would be too cosy.

  ‘I know what I was going to ask you,’ Maddy said. Her tone caught Harry off guard, worrying him.

  He eyed her suspiciously. ‘What?’

  ‘The other day I noticed some of your post addressed to a Mr Henry Tudor.’

  Harry chuckled with relief. ‘Yes, that’s my name; Henry Arthur Tudor. But I’ve been called Harry since birth. I’m a month younger than Prince Harry.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I see.’

  ‘My mother couldn’t resist, with a surname like Tudor, she wanted to name me after a king.’

  ‘Why do parents do that to their children? And why didn’t she just name you Harry? Did you used to get stick about it at school?’ Maddy said, setting her glass down. ‘Actually, looking at the size of you, I doubt you were ever bullied.’

  ‘Believe it or not, I was one of the smallest in my class for a while. Luckily, there were at least three Henrys in my year. It did make it easier that I was called Harry. Sometimes my mates teased me about the whole king thing, especially when we were learning about the Tudors and Stewarts, but it was only when I joined the fire brigade they nicknamed me Roses.’ Harry sipped his wine, watching Maddy. ‘Do you know where Maddison comes from?’

  ‘I have no idea.’ Maddy shrugged. ‘I’d like to think I was conceived in New York, but I doubt it. I would have been Madison with one D.’ They both laughed. ‘But knowing my mother, she chose to be different.’

  Two bottles of red wine and a bowl of chips to soak up the alcohol later, Maddy and Harry walked – stumbled – home, arm in arm. Mainly because she needed support more than anything. She’d stood up and wobbled, and he’d grabbed her to steady her. He’d been thoughtless to suggest the second bottle, but he’d been enjoying Maddy’s company and hadn’t wanted it to stop.

  Harry had let Maddy do most of the talking through the evening, but they’d laughed and talked about nonsense really. Now, as they staggered into Annadale Close, Maddy gossiped about another nei
ghbour.

  ‘I don’t think much of her at the end,’ she said, slurring her words a little and waving her arms about. There were about twenty houses in the close. She could have been talking about any one of them. Most of their neighbours were retired. A few families lived on the close, with children ranging from toddlers to teenagers. Sometimes the younger kids were out on their bikes or playing football on the weekends, or after school.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘You know the one who won’t even say good morning. Always got her nose in the air. The mad cat lady – she has five cats, you know?’

  ‘Five?’ Harry snapped louder than intended. ‘What is it with you people and bloody cats?’

  ‘Shhhh … you’ll wake the neighbours,’ Maddy protested, giggling.

  ‘We are the neighbours.’ Harry stood facing her as they reached his drive. Maddy had stopped and stared at her house, letting out a heavy sigh.

  ‘Phew, it’s still there.’

  ‘Of course it’s still there. And before you argue, I’m cutting your front lawn. It’s getting out of hand.’

  ‘Will you now?’

  ‘Yes, you’re letting the close down.’ Harry lifted his head haughtily but couldn’t keep a straight face.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’ve been busy.’ Maddy pouted. ‘I’ll pay you.’

  ‘You’ll do no such thing.’

  ‘Harry, you’ve done too much for me already.’ Maddy touched his arm. Then she stumbled, so he supported her by grasping her arm. He released his grip as soon as she’d found her feet.

  ‘I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for me,’ he said. ‘It will mean I can look out my front window and see a pristine garden. Both your neighbours keep their gardens looking so smart with their flowerbeds and roses. You’re letting the side down.’

  She narrowed her eyes at him. ‘Oh, that side,’ she pointed to the house to the left of hers, ‘they’re almost as bad as her down the end, but they’re polite enough. Mrs Delphine is lovely, though.’ She gestured to the house adjoining hers. ‘We’re on a close with a load of old dodderys though.’

  ‘A lot of people come to retire in Cornwall.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Maddy shrugged, the urge to argue gone from her. Harry unlocked his front door, and let her in first. She went to the kitchen, poured a glass of water and gulped it down. Harry watched, mesmerised, from the moisture on her lips, to her throat as she swallowed, down to the V of her cleavage revealed by her blouse. She wiped her mouth, less conscious of her appearance due to her tipsiness, and said, ‘You’re just as bad, too. Old fogey.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I’ll show you old fogey.’ Swiftly, Harry took the glass out of her hand, placing it on the counter and dipped his head, his lips crushing hers.

  Maddy’s eyes widened, then relaxing into the kiss, her hands wrapped around his neck and she pushed her body up against his. His grip tightened around her slim frame as he gently explored her mouth with his tongue.

  Chapter 11

  Maddy awoke, her vision blurry, her head pounding and her mouth as dry as if she’d been marooned on a desert island and hadn’t tasted water for days. She ran her tongue around her mouth, hoping this would moisturise it. She tried to move. A solid, heavy arm, draped over her chest, weighed her down.

  Harry’s.

  She froze, afraid to budge. Over the sound of her heart pounding in her ears, she could hear him breathing. She prayed he was still asleep while she got her head around this.

  What the hell did she do last night? Think, Maddy.

  Did she sleep with him?

  Well, clearly she’d slept with him – they were in the same bed, weren’t they? – but had she actually had sex with him?

  Lifting the duvet gently, she saw she was wearing his shirt. The one she’d been wearing to bed the last couple of nights. But the top buttons were undone, and if it weren’t for Harry’s arm, her breast would be bare. As slowly and as subtly as she could, dread filling her, she brushed her free hand against her hip – the other was trapped under Harry. Oh, hell, no knickers.

  Her memory was lethal when drinking red wine. Two bottles between them, plus what they’d had before heading to the pub. She was such a lightweight when it came to red wine.

  You’re such an idiot.

  But she’d know if she’d had sex, wouldn’t she? Usually, her insides throbbed a little or even ached – depending on how good the sex was …

  Her head throbbed. She knew that much.

  Maddy kept her eyes closed to stop the drum thumping in her head and trawled through the evening’s events, but she couldn’t remember much past leaving the pub and walking home.

  Then suddenly, she remembered. Harry had kissed her.

  Maddy’s eyes shot open and she glanced at the sleeping man next to her. The image replayed over and over in her head like a mini video. She couldn’t remember anything else, only that he’d kissed her. And it had been rather good. Butterflies swirled in her lower stomach at the memory. He’d taken her by surprise, his lips rough on hers, and then he’d softened, and become so gentle.

  But that was it, all she could remember. How she’d got into bed with him, or got undressed … nothing.

  Maddy needed to use the bathroom, and needed water and some painkillers. Whether she could stomach breakfast would be another matter. In as smooth a movement as possible, not wanting to wake the sleeping giant beside her, she ever so slowly lifted his arm and started to slip out from under the duvet.

  Harry’s limp arm tensed, his eyes opened and he raised his head. Maddy hastily moved back, pulling the duvet around her, staying in the bed.

  ‘Morning,’ he said, his eyes barely open.

  ‘Morning,’ Maddy replied, clutching the duvet close to her chest.

  ‘Did you sleep okay?’

  Maddy frowned – which hurt. He wasn’t even surprised they were in bed together.

  ‘Yes … but I’m having a bit of a memory lapse … did we, you know?’ She chewed her lip anxiously.

  Harry squinted his eyes then rubbed them. Quite clearly naked on his top half. God, she hoped he had his boxers on but was too afraid to look south as the duvet moved. She blindly buttoned her shirt under the covers.

  ‘Did we what?’ Harry said, wearing a confused expression.

  ‘You know?’

  ‘You had too much wine that’s what I do know.’

  ‘Oh, for god’s sake, did we have sex?’ Maddy said, impatience lacing her tone.

  ‘Oh.’ Harry rose up onto his elbow, resting his head in his hand, looking more awake. And gorgeous.

  She was in bed with Adonis. Really, she should not complain, although she was hardly Aphrodite.

  ‘No, of course not,’ he said. ‘What do you take me for? You were so drunk – as was I – it would have been wrong.’

  Relief washed over Maddy. ‘Oh, thank God.’ But with it so did nausea. ‘Oh, I think I’m going to be sick.’ She rushed out of the bedroom, caring not whether the shirt covered her naked bum and dashed to the bathroom, making it to the toilet just in time. She hadn’t had time to close the bathroom door so Harry would have heard every un-ladylike retch coming from her as she emptied her stomach. And even when it was empty, she still retched.

  Finally, feeling like death warmed up, she returned to the bedroom completely embarrassed. But she had to lie back down. This was going to take a while to pass. These hangovers usually did.

  ‘Better?’

  ‘No. Never let me drink red wine in that volume ever again. I can’t handle it.’

  ‘I’d say,’ Harry chuckled the words.

  ‘Oh, God, what did I do?’ Maddy kept her eyes closed, placing a hand on her forehead.

  ‘Let me tell you over breakfast.’

  ‘No, no, I can’t face food … water, please, just some water.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll get you a glass of water,’ Harry said, smoothly evacuating the bed, keeping his back to her. Maddy squinted, to sneak a look if he had boxers on. He did. She caught sight of t
hem, as he hitched his jeans up to his hips. She heard a drawer slide and assumed he was fetching a fresh T-shirt.

  With every step Harry took down the stairs, Maddy’s head pounded. Minutes later, he’d returned placing a glass of water on the bedside cabinet beside her.

  The bed dipped as he sat down on the edge of it. She opened one eye to look at him, but even that hurt. He was smiling at her. ‘So, is there anything else I can get you?’ Very carefully Maddy shook her head and groaned a no. The back of his hand brushed her forehead. ‘Then, I’ll leave you to sleep.’

  Maddy waited for Harry to leave, then took a sip from the glass. She lay back down, closing her eyes. She kept herself as still as possible in the foetal position and hoped the nausea would pass.

  ***

  Maddy awoke, her head feeling a little better. Not brilliant, but definitely better. Her stomach grumbled. She was ravenous, yet, would anything she put in it stay down?

  She fumbled for her phone to check the time. The battery was dying – she’d forgotten to put it on charge the night before, which was hardly surprising all things considered. There was one missed call and a text message to say she had a voicemail message. Well, at least she’d remembered to put her phone on silent for the night.

  Through squinted eyes, she rested her head back on the pillow and listened to the voicemail.

  ‘Hi, Miss Hart, this is Roy Trewyn. I know we agreed for you to deliver the paintings on Monday, but I was wondering if we could have them today.’

  ‘Shit!’ she said as he rattled off a telephone number for Maddy to call him back on. She couldn’t mess this up. Roy Trewyn was a friend of Valerie’s and she didn’t want to let either of them down. She sat up quickly and instantly regretted it, her rumbling stomach still unsettled.

  What time was it? She glanced at her phone. One o’clock. Double shit.