by Nicola Marsh
“Guess you’re right,” he said, snagging her hand, tugging her inside and slamming the door. “She won’t tell me what dessert is. Said it’s a surprise.”
“I love surprises.” She allowed herself to be tugged toward the kitchen, making a mockery of her statement when she caught sight of Jake elbow-deep in suds at the kitchen sink.
Now there was a surprise she didn’t dare love.
He looked incredible in black cargo shorts, a loose olive T and sneakers. Relaxed, at home, a guy at ease in his own skin. Throw in the way he scrubbed a pan, making his back muscles shift and bunch beneath cotton, and she seriously doubted her heart could stand a surprise of that magnitude.
“Hey,” she said, her stomach doing a weird fluttering thing when he glanced over his shoulder, caught sight of her and smiled.
With day-old stubble covering his jaw and his eyes alight with genuine happiness at seeing her, he certainly packed a punch.
“Hey yourself,” he said, rinsing the pan and stacking it on the sideboard to dry. “You’ve caught me at my domesticated best.”
“I’m impressed,” she said, meaning it.
“I can wash dishes too.” Olly frowned at Jake. “But I’m better at drying.”
Surprised by the hint of animosity in Olly’s tone, she laid a hand on his shoulder. “Maybe we should do the washing up later. What do you say?”
“Maybe.” Olly shrugged her hand off and ran into the other room. “Aunt Cilla, Sara is here. Can we eat now? I’m starving.”
“Is he okay?” Sara mouthed to Jake, who nodded, but the groove between his brows deepened.
“I brought a Napa Riesling,” she said, placing it on the table.
“Thanks.” Jake crossed the kitchen to stand close. Too close. Not close enough. “Thought I’d warn you: Cilla’s been in a bit of a mood all day. She won’t tell me what’s wrong but maybe you can talk to her?”
“Uh-oh. When she dropped by last night to invite me to dinner, she was on her way to a date.”
Jake groaned. “I’m such a putz. That must be it.”
“I don’t think I’m close enough to Cilla to interrogate her about how her date went.”
“Maybe sound her out a little?” Jake held his hands out in a silent plea. “She’ll probably talk to you, woman to woman, whereas I’ll put my big foot in my mouth if I try.”
“Okay,” Sara said, increasingly doubtful. The last thing she felt like doing was sticking her nose into Cilla’s business, especially if her date hadn’t gone well.
“You’re the best.” Jake slipped an arm around her waist and gave a gentle squeeze, setting off a chain reaction starting in the vicinity of her chest and spreading outward, like warm treacle flowing through her veins.
Olly bowled into the kitchen and skidded to a stop when he saw Jake semi-hugging her, his frown returning. “Aunt Cilla is coming.”
Sara gently slipped out of Jake’s embrace and Olly brightened. Could the child be jealous of her, thinking she was vying for Jake’s attention? It would make sense if he resented her but he seemed happy to see her tonight. She’d have to tread carefully, because the last thing she wanted was to ruin the fragile relationship developing between Jake and his nephew.
“She looks sad,” Olly said, taking his place at the table. “Mommy used to look sad all the time, so that’s how I know.”
Sara only just heard Jake’s muffled curse as he strode to the table and sat next to Olly.
“Listen, buddy, we all have sad days. But grownups don’t like it when kids talk about it, so maybe we shouldn’t say anything about Aunt Cilla at dinner, okay?”
Olly tilted his head to one side, pondering, before eventually nodding. “Okay. I’ll eat my dinner and won’t say anything about Aunt Cilla looking sad or you looking really happy to see Sara.”
Sara bit back a guffaw as Jake shot her a rueful grin.
“Sounds like a plan.” Jake stood and headed for the stove. “I’ll start to dish up while we wait for her.”
At that moment, Cilla slipped into the kitchen and Sara had to agree with Olly’s astute assessment of the situation: Cilla looked miserable. Like a light had been switched off behind her eyes.
It made her mad, to think a vibrant woman like Cilla could be this affected by some guy who’d obviously hurt her.
“Dinner smells wonderful, Cilla.” She gave the older woman an impulsive peck on the cheek. “Thanks so much for inviting me.”
“My pleasure.” Cilla waved her toward the table. “Take a seat and we’ll dish up.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Sara had meant with dinner, but when Cilla’s startled gaze flew to hers, she knew Jake was right. Cilla might need a woman to talk to.
“We’re fine,” Jake said, sending her some weird eye signals to relay that he’d noticed Cilla’s reaction too. “We don’t put our guests to work.”
“But I’m a guest and I work,” Olly piped up, with a cheeky grin.
“You’re family,” Cilla said, some of her moroseness alleviated when she glanced fondly at Olly, who puffed up with pride at being labeled family.
In that instant, Sara realized why they all seemed to get on so well. A band of misfits in their own way, they were all craving a little affection and a lot of understanding. She fit right in.
“I forgot to ask if you’re vegetarian, so I made plenty of veggies in case,” Cilla said, placing a giant dish of roasted potatoes, squash, turnips and onions in front of her.
“I’m not,” Sara said, as Jake placed a carved pot roast on the table and she caught a whiff of delicious garlic and rosemary.
“Me either.” Olly squirmed in his chair and rubbed his tummy. “That smells so good.”
“It sure does.” Sara accepted a healthy serving of meat and veg that Jake and Cilla dished out, and waited until everyone was served before starting.
“Aunt Cilla is the best cook,” Olly said, despite his mouth being full.
“Thanks, Olly, but remember we don’t talk when our mouth has food in it,” Cilla admonished gently, her obvious fondness for the kid alleviating some of her earlier sadness.
Olly chewed fast, then responded. “But when food’s this good, I can’t wait to tell you.”
Sara chuckled. “Smooth talker like his uncle, I see.”
Jake’s eyebrows rose. “You think I’m smooth?”
“You try.” Sara found herself grinning at Jake across the table and for a moment, it was like no one else was in the room.
When Cilla passed the water jug, Sara blinked, filled her glass and passed it on.
“Be careful of young men who try to charm you,” Cilla said, and Sara heard the wistful undertone, wondering if Cilla was warning her or herself.
“I think I can handle Jake.” Sara eyeballed Jake with a boldness she didn’t feel. “And if I can’t, Olly will help me.”
Olly glanced up from shoveling food into his mouth. “Help with what, Sara?”
“Never mind,” Jake said, shooting Sara a loaded stare that implied he’d deal with her cheekiness later.
The banter continued as they ate, making Sara feel more at home than she had in ages. She liked the informality of eating in the kitchen, the warmth from the old Aga stove as comforting as the hearty food. Meals with Gran had been like this and she’d loved them. However, it had only served to reinforce how useless her mother had been when she’d been on the road with Vera. During those times, Sara had survived on TV dinners and tinned soups.
Annoyed that thoughts of her mother still had the power to sour her mood, she concentrated on her plate, realizing she’d cleared most of it when the others were still eating. A habit she hadn’t been able to break, even fourteen months later—eating quickly to keep pace with her daughter so they could do fun stuff together after they finished.
“This is delicious,” Sara said, forcing herself to slow down and push squash onto her fork at a snail’s pace.
Mistaking her speed-eating for hunger, Cilla gestured at the serving dishes. “The
re’s plenty to eat, so don’t be shy in taking more.”
“I’m fine, thanks,” Sara said, blushing when she noticed her plate cleared quicker than Olly’s. “I’m a fast eater.”
Cilla locked eyes with her for a moment, her understanding obvious. She was a mother. She knew what it was like. But thankfully, the older woman didn’t say anything and concentrated on her meal. Which she’d barely touched, now that Sara actually noticed.
Cilla cut small pieces of beef but pushed them around her plate. Same with the vegetables. Jake must’ve noticed too, because the second he finished he made a grand show of patting his belly and pushing back from the table.
“Sensational dinner. Thanks.” He kissed Cilla on the cheek. “If you’ll excuse Olly and me, we’re going to check out some new shark app online.”
Cilla frowned. “But we’ve got a guest.”
“We’ll only be gone a few minutes, won’t we, Olly?” Jake said, at the same time Sara piped up with, “I’m fine.”
Cilla’s frown deepened. “Okay, but if you’re not back in ten minutes, you don’t get dessert.”
Olly’s bottom lip wobbled. “Uncle Jake, I know I bugged you earlier to look at that app before dinner, but maybe we can wait ’til much later.”
Jake smiled and ruffled Olly’s hair. “The girls won’t eat our share of dessert.”
Olly pinned Sara with a stare. “Promise?”
Sara held up her hand. “Promise.”
“Yay.” Olly pushed back from the table and ran from the kitchen. “Come on, Uncle Jake. I want to see this app real bad.”
Jake sent Sara a pointed glare before following Olly at a more sedate pace.
When they’d left, Cilla gave up all pretense of eating and pushed her plate away, giving Sara the perfect in.
“Are you okay? You look tired.” Sara chose her words carefully, not wanting to make Cilla feel worse than she already did, if her woebegone expression was any indication.
“Didn’t sleep all night.” Cilla squeezed the bridge of her nose, as if staving off tears. “There’s no fool like an old fool.”
Increasingly uncomfortable at having this conversation with a woman she didn’t know well, Sara said, “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want, but it can help.”
Cilla’s shoulders stiffened for a moment, as if she was trying to steel her backbone, before she slumped. “That date last night?”
“Uh-huh.”
“A disaster.” Cilla scowled. “I never should’ve put myself in that situation in the first place, so it’s my fault.”
Wary, Sara hoped nothing too untoward had happened to this nice lady. “Situation?”
“Young men have needs.” A blush stained Cilla’s cheeks crimson. “My date is a young man. Forty-two, to be exact. Which makes me eighteen years his senior and supposedly wiser.” She snorted. “So when a man asks me to his house, cooks me dinner, then expects more, I shouldn’t freak out.”
Oh dear. The conversation had moved from uncomfortable to downright terrifying. Sara didn’t want to discuss Cilla’s sex life, or lack thereof, now or ever.
“But I did. Totally freak out,” Cilla continued, oblivious to Sara’s awkward silence. “Told him to leave me alone.”
From the audible devastation in Cilla’s voice, Sara guessed this wasn’t what she wanted.
“Do you like this guy?”
Cilla gnawed on her bottom lip and nodded. “He’s sweet and gentle and utterly lovely.”
“Which means he’s perfect for you,” Sara said, reaching out to squeeze Cilla’s hand. “You’re like that too.”
Cilla blinked rapidly and Sara hoped she wouldn’t have to deal with tears too. “Aren’t you the slightest bit shocked by the age difference?”
Sara shrugged. “It’s irrelevant if you both want the same things.”
“I don’t know what I want.” Cilla deflated even more, if that was possible. “I’m so terrified of disappointing him that I don’t want to take things beyond friendship.”
Sara knew the feeling. After her marriage to Greg had imploded, she had no idea if she ever wanted to reconnect with a guy on that intimate level again. Jake made her feel things she hadn’t felt for a long time, prompting her not to get too close. Being attracted to a guy was one thing, but following through and getting physical involved opening herself up on a deeper level, one she had no intention of exploring any time soon. Sara could empathize with Cilla. How much harder would it be for an older woman whose husband had died decades ago?
“Friendship is good—”
“But I want to be with a man again, too. It’s been over twenty years.”
Uh-oh. They were definitely entering icky territory and Sara needed a deflection.
“Chances are he’s as bummed about all this as you are, so why don’t you approach him as a friend and explain?”
Cilla shook her head. “I can’t. Not after the way I ended things last night.”
Sara wanted to trot out a few trite platitudes, like “Nothing is ever as bad as it seems” or “It’ll all be better in the morning.” But she knew that wasn’t true. She knew firsthand, and had resented all those people who’d offered condolences when they didn’t have a clue what it felt like to lose a child.
The best Sara could offer was honesty. “I can’t profess to know what you’re going through but if you ever need to talk, I’m always a short stroll away.”
“Thanks, I appreciate it.” Cilla reached over and hugged her, as Olly skidded into the kitchen with Jake on his heels.
“What’s the surprise dessert, Aunt Cilla? Because I’m starving.”
Cilla smiled fondly at Olly. “You only finished dinner five minutes ago. How can you be starving?”
“Boys are always hungry.” Olly rolled his eyes. “Isn’t that right, Uncle Jake?”
“You’re absolutely right.” However, the way Jake stared at her, Sara wondered if he meant for food.
“Then you’ll love my lemon meringue pie,” Cilla said, getting up to serve dessert while Sara helped Jake and Olly clear the table.
“Yum,” Olly said, scraping scraps into the trash and handing the plates to Sara to rinse. “Not as good as Aunt Cilla’s apple crumble, but still yummy all the same. Will you have one piece or two, Sara?”
“One, please,” Sara said, and saw Jake eyeing her appreciatively, as if he didn’t mind if she had seconds. “For starters.”
As it turned out, Cilla’s lemon meringue pie was so good they all had two pieces, but when it came time to clear the table again, Cilla shooed her away.
“Why don’t you and Jake go for a stroll around the garden? Olly and I have this covered, don’t we?”
Olly appeared torn, like he’d rather be walking outside than cleaning up, before reluctantly nodding. “Okay, I’ll help clean up, because I’m family and Sara is a guest.”
Cilla smiled, her first genuine smile of the evening, and Sara hoped their chat had helped. Even though Sara hadn’t said much, she knew from experience that being allowed to offload to a good listener helped.
“You sure you don’t need a hand?” Jake asked his aunt, who gave him a nudge in the direction of the door.
“Go,” Cilla said. “It’s a beautiful night out there.”
Sara didn’t mind walking off her dinner, but the moment the back door closed and that darkness she’d been looking forward to earlier enveloped them, she realized this stroll might not be such a good idea after all.
She didn’t need the romantic ambience, not when she found Jake more appealing every time they met.
“How did your chat go?” Jake placed his hand in the small of her back to guide her onto the path and left it there, distracting Sara to the point she found it hard to put one foot in front of the other.
“You were right. Sounds like her date last night didn’t go so well.”
“If that guy hurt her, I’ll kill him.”
Jake sounded so earnest she smiled; his protectiveness was endear
ing. “I think it has more to do with her feeling out of her depth and not sure if she’s ready for anything more than friendship.”
“Oh.”
Jake’s one syllable sounded so uncomfortable Sara knew he’d understood more about what she hadn’t said than what she had.
“I’m glad she had you to talk to,” he said. “Thanks for that.”
“Cilla’s wonderful so it was no problem.”
They strolled through Cilla’s garden in companionable silence, the intoxicating fragrance of jasmine scenting the air, and when Jake slipped his hand into hers, Sara resisted her first instinct to pull away.
Walking hand in hand with a gorgeous guy through a darkened garden on a balmy evening felt decadent. Like a summer romance, fleeting and quixotic and too good to be true, but to be savored in the short term.
She’d confronted her fear of being around kids. Maybe she should allow herself to open up a little and just feel with a guy again too. Be in the moment without over-analyzing.
“Do you think she was trying to match-make by sending us out here together?” Jake stopped at the end of the garden, near a towering elm.
“Do you care?”
Because in that moment, with Jake staring at her lips like they were fruit ripe for the plucking, she sure didn’t. Crazy, but it felt like the most natural thing in the world to be finally taking a chance on living again, despite her misgivings when they’d met.
“She initially warned me off you,” he said, stepping closer, invading her personal space and setting her nerve endings alight. “Said you were too fragile and I wasn’t around for long so I should stay away.”
“And now?”
Sara held her breath as his fingertips skated across her jaw, his thumb gently raising her chin.
“Now, all I want to do is this.”
He lowered his head and brushed his lips across hers, a kiss filled with hope and promises. A kiss as light as air. A kiss to reawaken dreams.
Dreams she shouldn’t have because they couldn’t go beyond this. Dreams that were foolish at best.
Yet when Jake’s lips demanded more, Sara happily gave it, their tongues dueling with passion as he crushed her to him. Jolts of electricity sizzled through her body, sparking heat from her head to her toes and choice places in between, as, for the first time in forever, she experienced the kind of mind-blowing lust that eradicated common sense.