Summer At Willow Tree Farm: the perfect romantic escape for your summer holiday

by Heidi Rice

  No way would Maddy say no. But the thought of having to survive a wedding night with the two of them in the room next door focused Ellie’s mind.

  ‘How much is there still to do on your place?’ Maybe there was a better way to solve this problem. And give them all a decent night’s sleep.

  ‘Not a lot. The floor needs tiling. The walls need painting. And the bathroom needs to be plumbed in. It’s all there. It’s like a month’s worth tops of evening and weekend work, but I haven’t got it done. We’ve been trying to do it in the spare hours we have. I’m not a trained plumber so it means reading the manual, but Maddy usually comes over to help and…’ He cleared his throat. ‘We don’t always get a lot done.’

  Yes, Ellie could well imagine.

  ‘Isn’t Art a certified plumber? Couldn’t he show you how? It would probably be quicker?’ And if he was there to act as a gooseberry, maybe Maddy would keep her hands off Jacob long enough for him to actually read the manual.

  ‘I don’t feel right asking him.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He huffed out a laugh. ‘I’m not Art’s favourite person at the moment. And he’s already super busy.’

  Art obviously slept like a rock. Or he would be a lot more incentivised to help Jacob and Maddy out. And get them the hell out of the room between his and Ellie’s. ‘I tell you what, Jacob, why don’t you leave it with me? I’ll see if I can persuade him.’

  ‘Really? You’ll talk to Art?’

  ‘Why not?’ She could think of one reason why not – that insane kiss. But that had been over three weeks ago now. Heck, Art might even have forgotten it. And getting a decent night’s sleep would surely be worth it. ‘Pick me up on Candlestick Hill once you’ve finished at the lumber yard. I’ll have a chat to him when we get back.’

  All she had to do was beard the dragon in his den and not get fixated on his lips. Or his toolbelt. Easy-peasy.

  *

  They arrived back at the farmyard an hour later, Ellie buoyed by her chat with Rick who said the grant application was just a rubber-stamping exercise now. She’d also managed to nip into Helena’s workshop on Candlestick Hill to see the signs in progress. Two more things to tick off two of her to-do lists. Jacob too seemed a little less downtrodden as he began unloading the lumber. Probably hoping she was going to work a miracle with Art.

  ‘Do you want some help taking this in?’ Ellie asked, psyching herself up for a quiet chat with their project manager. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t spoken to each other since the kiss. And confronting him in a work environment would make it easy to keep things on a professional level.

  Jacob threw her a pair of work gloves. ‘That would be great, but don’t take anything too heavy. I can get one of the lads to help bring in the rest.’

  With a load of lumber under her arm, Ellie followed Jacob past the farmhouse and across the yard. The sounds of hammering and drilling greeted them, floating on a breeze perfumed by the apples in the orchard. Ellie’s spirits soared as she rounded the blasted stone of the barn’s back wall.

  It had been over a week since she’d had a chance to look in on the build in the daylight and the changes were amazing. Huge bricked arches led into the cavernous interior of the barn, its high ceilings suspended by oak beams. The darkly stained wood looked elegant and yet earthy against the recently plastered walls. Light flooded in from the domed glass Art had suggested adding at the construction stage in the cavity that had once been the old barn doors.

  With the cabinets and shelving being built at one end, while the kitchen equipment was being installed at the other, the space was a hive of men – and one woman – busy doing everything from sanding wood to laying ceramic tiles. She spotted Mike in one corner painting the plasterwork in the fresh lime green Dee had suggested. She knew from the financials that Art had hired a bunch of workers from Gratesbury to steamroll through the final week of construction, so Dee and Tess could get in next weekend to start putting in the finishing design touches and arrange the produce for the opening.

  Once that happened, it was going to look incredible. It looked incredible already. How had Art managed to get all this done in only three weeks? Her admiration for him increased.

  She scanned the interior, and then she spotted him, standing at the main kitchen counter. The faded tattoo flexed on his biceps as he shuffled and rearranged the plans and then began to explain something on them to Rob. His thick wavy hair was sheened with sweat and a fine layer of dust. The toolbelt lay low on his hips like a western gunslinger’s bullet belt.

  His head came up as she and Jacob picked their way through the melee to pile the lumber on a workbench. Her gaze connected with Art’s and the lick of sensation crossed her lips.

  Pushing a pencil behind his ear, he walked towards them. He gave her a cursory nod of greeting then addressed Jacob. ‘The carpenter’s arriving tomorrow at eight and I need this stuff re-cut by then so he can get started. Don’t fuck it up.’

  Colour slashed across Jacob’s cheeks, the hopeful smile from moments ago gone. ‘No problem,’ he said.

  The banging and hammering had stopped as everyone observed the exchange. Who knew construction workers were nosier than the housewives of Orchard Habor? Poor Jacob.

  ‘Have you rechecked the plans? Made sure you’ve got the right sizing this time?’ Art said, the tone harsh.

  ‘I’ll do it now,’ Jacob murmured and ducked his head, making the long walk towards Rob as all the workers watched him.

  Art went to walk off and Ellie touched his arm. The skin burned under her fingertips as his gaze slanted down to where she grazed the tattoo.

  Her hand dropped. ‘Do you have to be so arsey with him?’ she said, beneath her breath, so as not to clue in their audience. ‘He hero-worships you, and he’s exhausted.’

  ‘Yeah, but his exhaustion is of his own making,’ Art fired back. ‘I didn’t get a wink of sleep last night either, but, unlike Jacob, my sleepless night was a lot less fun.’

  So Art didn’t sleep like a rock. No wonder he was so arsey. He was getting as little sleep as she was. Why the thought of them both lying in their separate beds on either side of Jacob’s room listening to the young couple having sex should seem arousing she had no idea.

  ‘I know what you mean,’ she said. Art’s eyes narrowed and what was supposed to be a simple confidence suddenly felt far too intimate. ‘But there is a solution,’ she said, trying to keep her mind on business and off the strange current that arced between her and Art like a blowtorch.

  ‘What solution?’

  ‘You could help Jacob finish off the house he’s building,’ she said, a little breathless as another solution tried to butt into her brain.

  Jumping Art is not and will never be a solution.

  Art dragged a hand through his hair, the frown on his face an odd combination of relief and frustration. ‘I haven’t got time for that. I’m up to my tits doing this.’

  Fair point.

  ‘I was thinking of putting the launch back a week. So we could take more time to plan it. But that would give us an extra weekend once the build’s completed. We could all chip in. Get their place finished together, turn it into a social event. Like in Witness.’

  ‘Like in what?’

  ‘Witness, the old Harrison Ford movie,’ she explained. ‘He joins the Amish, dances to Sam Cooke with the female lead, who’s Amish and has never danced before,’ she added. ‘In just about the most romantic movie scene ever.’ So not the point. ‘Then they all build a barn, in an afternoon.’ She was babbling and Art’s expression had merely shifted from clueless to completely unimpressed. So Art wasn’t a classic eighties movie fan. Figured. ‘Jacob says they only have a bit to do.’ Forget about Harrison dancing in a barn, it wasn’t helping. ‘If we got it done, they could have their own place. And we’d all get a decent night’s sleep again.’

  Art tucked his thumbs into the toolbelt. ‘You want me to pay the crew to work an extra weekend after the build’s finished,
just so Jacob and Maddy can carrying on banging like rabbits?’

  ‘And we don’t have to hear it,’ she said. Why was he being deliberately obtuse, and putting more X-rated pictures in her head that she so did not need to be there? ‘We won’t need to pay the crew, the co-op residents can do it. Even Toto and Josh know how to slap on a bit of paint. We can put everyone to work. Dee will do food. It can be another great community event.’

  ‘Because I love those so much,’ he said, but the rigid tic in his jaw had softened.

  ‘You’ll love this one,’ she said, ignoring the sarcasm. ‘Just think, there’ll be no more midnight moaning and groaning and shouts of “I’m coming, Jay,” for us all to enjoy.’ OK, maybe that was a bit too much information, because Art’s eyes had darkened again, and heat was spreading up her neck like a wildfire.

  ‘Have you got time to organise this?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll fit it in.’ She’d just start a new to-do list titled: ‘Operation Porn No More’.

  ‘I’ll think about it,’ he said.

  She let the air slip out of her lungs – was that relief, or regret?

  ‘But just to be clear,’ he added. ‘I’m no Harrison Ford.’

  As he strolled back across the work area, her gaze slipped over the muscles of his back under the sweat-stained T-shirt and landed on his butt, displayed in battered jeans, the low-slung toolbelt bumping against his hip.

  Ellie would have to agree with him. Art Dalton was a whole lot more dangerous than Harrison Ford.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  ‘Put the halloumi over there and I’ll give the chickens another turn,’ Dee directed, while Ellie finished setting out napkins and cutlery.

  Ellie placed the plate of grilled cheese on the trestle tables they’d set up in a copse of trees next to the stream running in front of Jacob and Maddy’s cabin. Standing back, she brushed sweat-soaked hair off her brow, and took a moment to admire the magnificent spread her mother had brought from the farmhouse. August sunshine beamed through the canopy of trees, illuminating the feast of salads and baked goods.

  The sound of birds and insects filled the air around the smallholding. The manic activity of this morning, as everyone chipped in to finish the dwelling, had finally tapered off. She knew Art was inside busy laying the last of the bathroom tiling with Jacob, while Annie and Tess were helping Maddy finish off the painting chores in the sitting room. Josh and Toto had been commissioned to entertain Melody after covering themselves with paint. The two of them scrambled around on the banks of the stream, building a mud palace with Melody for her extensive collection of Frozen figurines. Mike was hauling the last of the debris into the truck to take back to the farmhouse skip, having already made up the bed frame in the newly painted bedroom, while Rob was riding herd on his toddler sons, who had an unenviable knack of always running off in different directions.

  After starting at eight the previous morning, they were almost finished, ready to chow down on Dee’s early evening meal in the fading sunshine.

  The timber-framed bungalow was perfect for a young couple just starting out, the simple wooden three-room structure topped with a sloping roof of reclaimed slate. Jacob and Maddy had spent their last night in the farmhouse yesterday and there had not been a peep out of them all night. But Ellie still hadn’t slept well – she hoped the quiet wasn’t going to get to her when they were gone. With Josh in his box room between Toto’s room and her mother’s master bedroom on the opposite side of the house, it would just be Art and herself in the east wing of the farmhouse from now on. Thank goodness she had her own en suite bathroom and wouldn’t have to share one with him, because hearing the distant hum of his shower yesterday evening when she’d been lying in bed had been enough of a distraction.

  Art emerged from the cabin and unhooked his toolbelt to drape it over the porch rail. She felt the odd bump in her chest that always accompanied sights of Art these days, as he strolled towards the tables across the meadow grass.

  ‘Food, thank God. I’m starving.’ He rolled up the sleeves of his work shirt. His dark hair gleamed, the stubble on his jaw and the crisp curls of chest hair against sun-browned skin shiny in the sunlight. Her heart bumped again.

  No one wore sweat and sawdust better than Art Dalton.

  He leant over the table to pluck one of Dee’s feta tartlets off the centrepiece. And got a swift slap on the back of his hand from her mother.

  ‘Go and wash up in the stream before you touch that,’ Dee said.

  As Dee turned back to the barbecue drum, and the chickens slow-roasting over cedar wood charcoal, Art sneaked a tartlet and popped it in his mouth.

  He pressed a finger to his lips while he chewed and winked at her. Silly to get dazzled by Art’s mostly non-existent charm, but she couldn’t resist the quick grin in response to his playfulness.

  He headed over to the stream to do as he was told and she watched him go.

  The plaster-streaked cotton of his work shirt stretched across his back as he crouched down to examine the Frozen palace on the stream bank. Melody pressed next to his knee, resting her hand on his nape as she pointed out all the palace’s design features. His large hand came round to rest on her waist and give it a squeeze as he spoke to her – probably about the construction properties of the palace. Toto joined them, her jeans caked in mud up to her thighs and her hands even filthier.

  Ellie couldn’t hear the conversation, the girls’ voices drowned out by the rush of the stream, the whistle and coo of a nearby bird and the noise of the Jackson boys running rings around their father. But she didn’t need to hear the conversation to notice the tilt of Art’s head and then the slow nods as he listened intently.

  He rinsed his hands, then stood up, flicking the excess water over Melody who giggled. Then he rested a hand on the back of Toto’s neck – she dived out of the way, giggling too. Josh stood back through it all, shielding his eyes against the sun, then bobbed his head when Art addressed him. The shy smile on his face as Art directed all three of the children to wash up had Ellie’s heart tumbling over in her chest.

  Art’s communication skills might be lacking, but his listening skills were exemplary.

  The thought of that focused, intent look brought back memories of their kiss in the kitchen. The kiss she still hadn’t managed to completely forget.

  ‘He’s wonderful with them, isn’t he?’

  Her mother’s voice hauled Ellie out of her Art appreciation moment.

  ‘Yes,’ she mumbled, as she fidgeted with the table layout.

  ‘I have to admit I had my reservations when Alicia got pregnant. I didn’t think Art would be able to cope with the responsibility. But seeing him and Toto together…’ Her mother gave a quiet sigh of contentment. Dee’s gaze shifted to Ellie, the true blue of her eyes misty with memory. ‘You should never underestimate how much people can do when tested.’

  Ellie nodded, realising how much she had once underestimated Art too. ‘So Alicia was Toto’s mother?’ she asked, unable to contain her curiosity any longer.

  ‘Yes, she lived here for four years. Her and a couple of her friends…’ Her mother paused. ‘They came from London. Said they wanted to try alternative living.’

  ‘Where is she now?’ If she’d only lived at the farm for a few years had she left when Toto was still a baby? Ellie observed Art down by the stream, busy washing off Melody’s hands while Toto and Josh splashed about nearby getting wet but not a lot less muddy.

  Toto was thirteen, which meant by her calculation Art would only have been twenty-one when she was born. Had he been a single dad right from the start? How had he coped? Even with Dee’s help? She could remember how much hard work young children were and she’d had a housekeeper and a maid while Josh was little, hired by her father-in-law, who had insisted that Granger women didn’t waste time on housework when they could pay someone else to do it for them.

  ‘We don’t know,’ Dee said, the edge in her voice unlike her. Dee rarely had a bad word to
say about anyone. But it was clear Toto’s mother had managed to fit herself into that exclusive group. ‘She left before Toto’s first birthday and hasn’t been back in touch since. I can’t say I’m upset about that. She had a lot of problems, but it’s hard to feel sympathetic when she abandoned her own child without a backwards glance.’

  So many questions twirled around in Ellie’s brain. How long had Alicia and Art been an item? Did he miss her? And what were the ‘problems’ her mum was alluding to so cryptically? Other than being a monumentally crap mother?

  She forced them back though, as Tess and Maddy and Annie joined them to help carve the chickens. And Rob attempted to wrestle his boys into the two high chairs set out at one end of the table.

  As Ellie laid a serving platter of barbecued chicken in front of Rob, she observed Art heading back from the stream. He clasped Melody’s hand as she chattered away like a magpie. The older kids trailed behind, now wet as well as muddy.

  Questions about Art’s past were probably best left unsaid. And unanswered. He had always been an enigma, and the only other time she’d tried to satisfy her curiosity about him, when she was fourteen, it had not ended well.

  *

  ‘Folks, I need your attention for a minute.’ Jacob looked ready to burst as he tinked his glass with a knife. But, as he pushed back his chair to stand and swept the hair out of his eyes, Ellie could see the nerves.

  ‘First, I wanted to say thanks, from Maddy and me.’

  Maddy whooped and cheered.

  ‘I’m sure Ellie and Art are going to particularly appreciate us being gone,’ he added, his trademark cheeky grin back.

  Ellie’s gaze connected with Art’s across the table as everyone else laughed. The sun was dipping towards the horizon on the other side of Jacob and Maddy’s cabin, throwing Art’s face into shadow, but she could feel his gaze on her before he turned to toast Jacob with his glass of home-made apple cider.