Laura rolled her shoulders, and Kit heard a pop of tension. “What exactly is the matter at hand, Uncle Maximillian?”
“Why do you ask that, dear girl? You know very well that I wish to give Sus—I mean Kit—a new creation.”
Kit’s stomach turned. “If this is another dead, stuffed animal, please don’t.”
“What? Why should I abstain from gifting you this glorious badger that I have had the great luck to come upon?”
Kit adjusted her glasses. Then she did it again while shifting her footing. There must be a way to explain to him why most people wouldn’t want gifts like these, glorious as the badger in question might be.
“The thing is, Maximillian, I’m not a fan of hunting or killing animals for anything but food. I only wear a leather jacket because it’s cowhide. I’m likely to have already bought the cow’s meat for my burgers and would hate to see the leather be wasted.”
It made sense in her head but a small part of her reconsidered her choice to eat meat and wear leather when she realised how distressing she found thinking about this stuffed badger to be. It was quite different when the dead animal was sitting on your shelf staring at you with glass eyes. Wait, did they have glass eyes? Surely they couldn’t be the animal’s real eyes? Wouldn’t they dry out or something? Great, now she was nauseous, and lunch had dropped off her priority list.
Despite her words, Maximillian was beaming at her. For the first time, Kit could actually see that he was related to Laura, because beaming was the only way to describe the way his face lit up in that bright Howard smile. It was astonishing how much that single piece of family resemblance made Kit like him more.
Still beaming and leaning sideways against his badminton racket, Maximillian said, “I haven’t killed the glorious badger.”
Kit tried for the same patient tone that Laura always used. “No, I’m sure you haven’t, but someone clearly shot it.”
“Another badger,” he said with a knowledgeable nod.
Laura held up a hand. “Wait, another badger shot it?”
“No, dear girl. Don’t be silly. Badgers don’t have hunting licences and therefore cannot own weapons. I think they would struggle to carry a rifle anyway, due to their build and tiny hands.” He pointed his racket at her. “Moreover, shooting an animal makes it harder to stuff it. It creates a terrible mess, you know. And a big hole.”
Kit rubbed her forehead. “Yeah. Sure. Of course. Can we please get back to the badger? How did it die?”
“I am not certain as I wasn’t present at the time of death,” Maximillian said with a grave expression. “However, my taxidermist seemed convinced it had been killed by another badger. Perhaps there were claw marks? Tufts of foreign fur? Or the vision of an enemy male left in its deceased eyes?”
There was so much crazy in that statement that Kit wasn’t sure where to start. “Ooookay. So, the salient point here is that no human killed it, right?”
“That’s correct, yes.” Maximillian tapped his racket pensively against his thigh. “In fact, all my conserved animals have died from natural causes. Hm. Perhaps the deaths were on occasion somewhat unnatural in method and means, but the magnificent creatures were never killed for sport or to be stuffed.”
Kit was unsure when she’d last been so relieved. She also wasn’t sure if this was the strangest Greengage conversation she’d been part of this week.
“I see. Thanks,” she said, because what else was there to say?
“Jolly good! I shall go fetch it for you,” Maximillian said and hurried off.
While he was out of the room, Kit and Laura shared a long-suffering glance. The steps in the distance sounded like he was running. Then there was a clank, much like a badminton racket being dropped by someone excited and distracted.
Laura sighed while running a finger under her eye and picking away a crumb of mascara with a weary gesture. “I’m sorry, dearest. I suppose you can always send it to Aimee like before?”
“Sure. A brilliant badger is sure to be icing on the cake of her new collection.”
“You mean a glorious badger,” Laura corrected.
Kit took her hand. “Please tell me we haven’t reached the point in time when you’ll become as much of a plant pot as your uncle is, honey. I’m not ready for there to be two of you.”
“If I have to keep spending this much time away from you, I might become even loopier,” Laura said. “Oh, by the way, I left the Star Wars scarf that Maximillian accidentally stole out on the coat rack. Don’t forget to pick it up later.”
“Thanks. So, he’s finished with it, has he?”
“He claims to never have seen it until I went into his room and fished it out of the pocket of his mackintosh. He believes the maid put it there.”
Kit blinked a few times. “He thinks there’s a maid?”
“Yes.”
“Figures. We all know what these imaginary maids are like. They can’t help stealing and hiding Star Wars scarves in people’s rain coats.”
“It’s a nuisance.”
“Like your uncle.”
“Gods, yes.”
Maximillian skipped in and handed Kit a wooden plank that held up a loaf of grey and white fur culminating in a face with a very surprised look. If this animal had been killed by another badger, Kit was willing to bet it hadn’t seen it coming. Perhaps it was a badger it knew and thought wasn’t a threat? Maybe it was its sibling or something? Oh, perhaps it was its lover!
She bit her tongue. She was becoming as invested in this dead badger story as Maximillian. All she had to do was accept the fur-loaf and then post it to Aimee. Where the hell she was putting these things in her small apartment, Kit had no idea.
“Thanks,” she mumbled and took the surprised badger corpse.
“Don’t mention it, Susan,” he boomed. “I knew you would appreciate it. You are a woman of taste, after all.”
Kit was desperately trying not to make eye contact with the dead badger. “Mm-hm.”
“Right. Are we ready for lunch?” Laura asked.
Instead of an answer, there was a strange sound. It was like those noises sheep make. Kit wasn’t sure but thought they were called bleats. However, it sounded more strangled than sheep did on TV.
Maximillian’s ruddy face broke out into a wide grin. “Aha! That is the call of a fawn searching for its mother. I rather thought it would make a suitable ring signal for my phone.” The sound rang out again. He patted his waistcoat pocket where the phone must be and added, “Charming, isn’t it?”
Another bleat came from the phone.
Laura stared at him. “Very nice. However, if that’s a ring signal, perhaps you should answer your phone?”
“What? Splendid idea! Clever girl,” Maximillian said and fished out an ancient mobile phone from his waistcoat. He stared at the caller ID with dismay. “It’s that daughter of mine. I thought I asked my offspring to leave me alone while I healed. Those helpless and selfish rats, they never let me grieve or get any peace. I should have disowned them when they were babies.”
Laura’s head snapped back at the unnecessarily cruel comment. “Still, it might be urgent. Perhaps you should answer it?”
“Yes, suppose I must,” he growled.
He left the room while answering the phone.
The second he was out of earshot Laura grabbed Kit’s hand and pulled her into her embrace. “His calls last forever. Especially when speaking to his children, since they’re as likely to babble on and come up with random topics of conversation as he is.”
Kit wrapped her arms around her. “You mean we have a moment to ourselves?”
“Yes, dearest.”
“Thank goodness,” Kit breathed before moving in to kiss her, lingering longer and using more tongue than prudent considering they could hear Maximillian in the other room. Then she broke away to rest her warm forehead against Laura’s much cooler one. “How have you been, baby?”
“Not great,” Laura whispered. “I mentioned romanc
e this morning to Uncle Maximillian, to see if he’s any better on that front.”
“And?” Kit whispered back eagerly.
“And he screamed, threw a piece of bacon at the wall, and then cried for an hour.”
“Right.” Kit clicked her tongue. “He’s not ready for our relationship then.”
“No. To make things worse, I’ve been going mad from missing you.” Laura sighed. “I mean, I know that I’ve seen you and spoken to on the phone as much as usual, but it’s not the same.”
“No, you don’t realise how much you miss being romantic and physical until you can’t do it for a while. Perhaps this was a good thing after all.”
Kit could feel Laura furrowing her brow. “What do you mean?”
“I mean that I appreciate some things more than I did before. Like being able to do this…” She closed the space between their mouths and kissed Laura again with all the tenderness of someone who has found the most precious person in the world and wants nothing more than for them to feel as utterly adored as they are.
She wasn’t sure, but she thought she felt Laura shiver. She was, however, sure that she felt Laura’s hands slide down her back to cup her bum as the kiss intensified. After a long while they broke apart, and Laura rubbed her nose against Kit’s in an Eskimo kiss.
“I never knew I could love someone like this,” she whispered against Kit’s lips.
“I feel the same way,” Kit whispered back.
They stood there, still and entangled for a while, feeling the other’s warm breath on their lips. Laura rocked them a little, the tiniest sway making it feel as if they were secretly dancing.
There was a quiet reverence in that moment, an unexpected one for a mere stolen kiss with a clueless uncle a room away. Still, that was one of the many reasons Kit loved Laura: she could make a commonplace moment into something almost magical. Or perhaps it was their love that did that. Either way, this was worth all the messing around and the sacrifices that came with dating Greengage’s favourite daughter.
As Kit marvelled at the beautiful hazel eyes fixed on hers, she felt the shift from sweet romance into something more adult as Laura’s hands on her bum changed from a gentle cupping to a possessive grip and their bodies, especially their pelvises and breasts, were pushed tighter together.
“When my uncle moves out, I’ll need the two of us to spend the next few weeks under the same roof. I don’t care if it’s here or in your cottage, I need to be with you every second possible,” Laura said. Her warm voice made the words sound like a prayer, but the cadence of speech sounded a lot like when she was in boss mode in the office.
Kit tilted her head so she could run the tip of her tongue across Laura’s plump lips. “I love it when you make demands. That sounds perfect. However, don’t forget about the holiday and the sexy lingerie you promised me.”
“Of course not,” Laura growled and tightened her grip.
“Oh wow, getting a bit rough there, my love,” Kit said, not complaining at all.
At a speed which belied his age and size, Maximillian popped back into the room. “Can you believe it? The foolish girl quit her part time job as an online blogger or whatever they call themselves! That was her only source of income other than scrounging off me.” With his back to them, he slammed his phone down on an end table. “Mindboggling. What sort of job does she think she can get, locked up in a house on this island? None, because she expects me to give her a full-time allowance now. What does she think this is? 1922?”
Kit and Laura were still locked together. His back was still turned. The moment froze, and so did the three people in the room: Maximillian because there had been an unhealthy cracking sound from his phone when he banged it on the table; the two lovers because they had once again been caught in a compromising situation.
Laura whipped her head around in panic and then fastened her gaze on that damn broom closet out in the hallway.
“Nuh-uh. No you don’t! I’m not going in there again,” Kit hissed. “In fact, I’m going home for lunch because I can’t stay here without kissing you again.”
Laura hung her head. “Yes, you’ve got a point.”
Kit subtly extricated herself from the embrace. “Call me if you get a second to yourself, honey. I love you.”
“I love you, too,” came the whispered reply.
Kit went over to pat Maximillian on the back, saying that the phone was probably fine, and then said goodbye to the Howards.
As she left for her own quiet cottage, pride and joy blossomed in her chest as she remembered the flush on Laura’s full cheeks, knowing that only a part of it was because they were nearly caught. Most of it had been love and arousal.
Laura missed her and was as devoted to her as she was to Laura. Next time they were alone, wow, there’d be fireworks.
That afternoon Josh was finally coming by with his Pilates DVD for their promised workout. In preparation, Kit had moved the sofa out of the way, rolled out her exercise mat on the floor, and placed two towels, two water bottles, and two sugar-free protein bars on the table. She’d even done some stretching and jumping jacks to warm up. She was ready for whatever fresh hell this Pilates thingy could turn out to be. Thinking about Josh brought her thoughts back to his co-workers, and she realized she still hadn’t spoken to Shannon about why she was mad at Rachel.
Shit, I’m such an arse! Well, time’s moved on. Surely they must have sorted it out by now?
Kit called Shannon’s mobile. She’d get the lay of the land, and if her help was still needed, she’d book in a chat over some tea with Shannon. There was no answer. Kit was about to leave a voicemail when there was a knock on her door. However, it was a loud and violent one, not the sort of knock you expected from a friend dropping by for some exercise.
Kit hung up the phone and ran to the door.
Chapter Fifteen
Sexy as Fudge
With a knock like that, Kit was sure something was on fire. Or that she was about to be arrested. Or worse than those things put together, that something had happened to Laura.
Luckily, there was no paramedic, police officer, or firefighter outside in the afternoon heat but only Josh, carrying a mat and wearing a muscle-fit T-shirt with tight shorts. However, it was a Josh whose expression showed every sign of having recently outrun the devil. Or at least several very fast and threatening minor demons.
“Whoa, you nearly knocked my door off the hinges. You okay, Josh?”
“I’m late!”
Kit checked her watch. “Uh, yes, by two minutes.”
“What? No. By an hour and two minutes! I’m so, so, so sorry!”
He pointed to his arm where a large digital wristwatch, which looked more advanced than Kit’s laptop, hung loose.
Kit checked her fitness watch and then her phone for a second source. “Nope. Two minutes.”
He jumped forward and craned his neck to see her phone display. “You’ve got to be joking. Bollocking hell! He’s done it again.”
“Who? And what have they done?”
Josh fastened the gigantic timepiece on his wrist. “Clark. He likes to play with my watch. This is the second time he’s accidentally changed the time on it.” He ran his hand through his lush but sweaty hair. “Last time he set it back six hours and slobbered all over it, so I noticed right away. This time, I’ve been running around like a headless chicken since this morning.”
“The joy of having kids, huh? Well, you can now come in and do Pilates like a chicken with its head intact, knowing that you are perfectly on time.”
He blew out a breath so long that it all but knocked Kit over, but he came in anyway while muttering, “This better give me back my superb physique. I’m not having this stress ulcer and heatstroke for nothing.”
An hour later, with every muscle stretched, every beat of pulse upped, and every single fibre of their abs contracted, their Pilates session was completed.
Kit sat drinking deep from her water bottle while Josh lay in a pudd
le on the floor, saying that exercise must be a punishment made up by homophobes.
Kit chuckled into her water bottle, and he glared up at her. “No really, I didn’t used to mind working out. Can I blame being this shattered now on having a kid? Or do biological mums who have to lose pregnancy weight have the monopoly on that?”
“Like you said at the pub,” Kit towelled down the back of her neck, “you’re either working like a dog or spending all your time with that little boy. No wonder this knackered you.”
He leaned up on his elbows. “Thanks, mate. I’m glad to have a reason to be this out of shape.”
“Oh, come off it, you’re not that unfit. Besides, at least it means the workout did its job. They’re meant to leave you sweaty and exhausted.”
Josh hummed his agreement while stretching his legs up towards him. “Anyway, Clark is worth getting out of shape for. He’s becoming such a kind and fun little lad. I can’t wait until he’s older, and I can take him with me to do more stuff.”
Kit started stretching to cool down, too. “Yeah, I suppose it’s hard to get out of the house and stay active with a one-year-old in tow?”
Josh grimaced. “It is, but I should be able to do more than take walks with him. Stuff like baby yoga and baby Pilates exist on the mainland, if I only braved the ferry and a train ride, but I’m too tired and can’t be arsed.” His legs flopped back down to the floor. “Matt stays active and manages to include Clark, you know. He took him swimming the other day and even has Clark with him when he lifts his weights. He’s a great dad.”
Josh’s face, normally so pleasant with its fine features and designer stubble, was a scowling mask of embarrassment. Or was that regret?
While thinking about her reply, Kit recalled how her own father was rarely around. When he was, he was often more interested in his mistresses than in what she was doing. Of course, that was still better than her mum who left after their divorce and barely spoke to Kit these days.
She stopped stretching. “You know what? We should make a habit out of these workouts, and next time, bring Clark. He can either flop about on the exercise mats with us or he can have a nap in the next room. You can simultaneously keep fit and spend time with Clark outside the house.”
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