Page 61 of The Orchard at Rosevale
‘You’re staring,’ he said. ‘Do I have flour on my nose?’
‘I’m staring because you’re still the most gorgeous man I’ve ever met.’ She blushed, an irrational reaction considering her age, but melted into him when he hauled her into his arms. He squeezed her tight and pressed a kiss to the top of her head before releasing her.
‘Is it crazy to miss you when I only left your apartment a few hours ago?’
‘Yes, it’s crazy,’ she said, propping her weight completely on one crutch so she could press her other palm to his cheek. ‘It’s crazy, because I know the feeling.’
He swooped in for a kiss that made her tingle all over before stepping aside. ‘Come in. I’m so glad you’re here.’
‘Me too,’ she said, trying not to gawk as she entered. If the outside appeared modern, it had nothing on the interior, with its extensive use of polished concrete floors and walls, chrome and embedded lights. ‘Wow. This place is stunning.’
‘Thanks, I like it. Who knew I’d change my taste from grunge to contemporary over the decades?’
She wanted to ask how he could afford it, but it wasn’t the type of inquisitive question you asked someone you’d only just reunited with, so she followed him into a huge, open living area comprising a kitchen, a dining table for eight and a gas-log fireplace surrounded by modular furniture.
‘I love it.’
He smiled and gestured at the table. ‘Would you like to take a seat and get comfortable? I’ve left a stool near the end seat so you can prop your foot up. The other guests should be here soon.’
‘Sure.’
Pleased by his thoughtfulness, Ferne sat and put her foot on the stool, wishing her hip would stop twinging. She’d attributed the increased pain to taking most of her weight on the other side, but maybe last night’s activities had something to do with it.
‘What are you smiling about?’ he asked, uncorking a bottle of wine.
‘Last night.’
‘I didn’t know soup made you smile like that.’ He wiggled his eyebrows, and she laughed. ‘Wait until you taste my lemongrass beef rice paper rolls and tiramisu.’
‘You’ve certainly expanded your repertoire.’
‘I didn’t hear you complaining when I only served you scrambled eggs, nachos and the occasional beef stir fry back then.’
They shared another conspiratorial smile, and once again, she couldn’t help but think how much different her life might’ve been if she’d stuck with Taj rather than choosing to walk away.
The doorbell rang and he said, ‘Back in a sec,’ leaving her to look around the kitchen with its gorgeous green splashback, eight-burner stove, inbuilt ovens—steam and normal—and sleek black cupboards. Cruz would love it. She’d wanted to give her son space, allow him to settle in for a week before she contacted him, but she should reach out, maybe later today, and see how he’d been faring since her departure.
In fact, she’d been so discombobulated the last few days, she hadn’t checked the farm’s social media sites beyond a brief glance to see what that clever girl had done, and she vowed to call Cruz when she got home.
If she made it home. With her uncharacteristic excitement over Taj re-entering her life, she wouldn’t be averse to staying over after his guests left.
‘I believe you two have met before,’ he said, as he stepped aside to reveal Bette standing behind him.
‘Surprise!’ Bette flung her arms in the air and Ferne chuckled.
‘I’d ask what you are doing here, but that would be a redundant question,’ Ferne said, smiling as Bette handed Taj a bottle of shiraz and bustled over to bend down and give her a hug. ‘So that’s why you recommended the delivery service. You’re promoting your friend.’
‘Isn’t Taj the best?’ Bette blew Taj a kiss and the momentary stab of jealousy surprised Ferne.
‘Stop flirting with me.’ Taj waggled his finger at her. ‘You’ve been doing it for the last two years and you know I’m immune.’
‘That’s why I do it, so I can practise my flirting skills on a man with zero interest in me.’ Bette sat beside Ferne, oblivious to her relief, because the moment she saw Bette blow Taj a kiss, she’d wondered if they’d dated. ‘When Taj called me earlier and said we’d be having another lunch guest and who it was, I couldn’t believe it.’ Bette’s sly glance slid between them. ‘I’m trying to figure out who’s the fast mover here. The delivery guy or the vulnerable wounded woman.’
‘We’re old friends,’ Ferne said, earning a guffaw from Bette.
‘Is that what you’re calling it these days?’
‘Leave Ferne alone, Bette.’ Taj brought the uncorked wine to the table. ‘We dated decades ago, so we’re both still in shock over the coincidence of me turning up on her doorstep to deliver her groceries yesterday.’
