‘No weapons, only tools and radio equipment, which are much more cool.’ Stefan let out a low, rumbling laugh that gave Cassie shivers all over.
‘I wonder what they are talking about,’ Cassie mused as man and boy walked towards the exit, talking and laughing.
Rachel linked arms with her and tilted her chin towards Stefan’s back. ‘He’s really nice, not at all the Grinch you’ve made him out to be.’
‘He can be very short-tempered, believe me, but he has been brilliant this week. I could never have finished the clubhouse for Kerry’s wedding without his help.’
Stefan had been more than brilliant. He had been kind, attentive and patient, following her instructions to the letter, and not getting frustrated if she asked him to take something down and put it up somewhere else in the room, then changed her mind again. Her heart had almost melted when earlier on at the clubhouse he had showed her the last of the paper flowers he had stuck to the walls and the banana balloons he had inflated, looking very pleased with himself.
Rachel gave her a nudge. ‘So is he going to dress up – or down – as Tarzan to make the jungle décor more authentic?’
Cassie made a pretend gasp. ‘Rachel Merriweather, you are incredible! Your son just broke his arm, you’ve spent hours in hospital, and all you can think about—’
‘Is the body of the fit man my favourite cousin has taken a shine to,’ Rachel finished. ‘Tell me, has Tarzan tasted your lovely trifle yet?’ She laughed and nudged Cassie again.
‘Sshh now,’ Cassie scolded, her face burning, as they reached Stefan’s car. Rachel seemed bent on embarrassing her. Thankfully, Stefan was walking ahead with Louis so he hadn’t heard her.
He lifted Louis into the back seat and strapped him in. Rachel winked at Cassie and sat next to her son, and Stefan held the passenger door open for Cassie.
Louis fell asleep almost as soon as they started on the road to Red Moss, and nobody spoke much during the drive back to Patterdale Farm, except for Rachel checking her phone and giving regular updates on Tim’s journey back from Carlisle.
Stefan decided to drive straight to the farm. Cassie could always pick up her van from the campsite later. It was very late and snowing by the time they arrived at Patterdale. Stefan carried a sleepy Louis out of the car and into the farmhouse. Rachel asked him to take the boy straight to his bedroom so that she could put him to bed and led the way to the first floor, picking disregarded socks and toys off the stairs.
Cassie took off her duffle coat and hung it up in the hallway. The farmhouse was quiet, which meant that Ollie and Will must be in bed already, and her granddad had probably dozed off in front of the fire.
She pushed the door to the living room open and held her breath. Her grandfather sat snoring on the sofa – that she had expected – with Ollie and Will curled up on either side of him, asleep in their pyjamas. A storybook lay open on her granddad’s knees.
She tiptoed into the kitchen. Plates smeared with tomato sauce and enough cutlery for a dozen people were stacked in the sink. On the table were dirty glasses, a bottle of blackcurrant cordial, and a half-empty packet of custard cream biscuits, her granddad’s favourites.
Cassie couldn’t help but smile. Her granddad may have left a mess in the kitchen, but at least he had fed the boys, got them ready for bed and read them a story. Being at Patterdale was good for him. Feeling needed was good for him. Hadn’t Rachel said that he had displayed no signs of confusion or forgetfulness since he’d been at the farm? Perhaps living at Bluebell Cottage didn’t suit him any longer. After all, she worked most of the time and unless he went to the community centre for a game of cards or dominoes, he had no one to chat to during the day… except Doris’s cat and Darren Morse.
She filled the kettle and flicked it on. As the water boiled, she gave the kitchen a quick tidy up, took a slab of cheese and some ham from the fridge, some sliced bread from the breadbin, and prepared a round of toasted sandwiches.
‘Can I help?’
She gasped and looked towards the door. Stefan leant against the jamb and pointed to the knife in her hand.
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have startled you when you’re holding a knife.’
She put the knife on the worktop. ‘I’m making sandwiches. Would you like some?’
‘That would be nice.’
‘I wanted to thank you again for being so kind, for taking me to the hospital, driving us back here… and generally helping me out this week at the clubhouse. I hope you don’t think I took advantage of you.’
‘I don’t mind if you do.’
He looked at her – a deep, searching look that went straight to her heart. He didn’t smile, didn’t move from the doorway, and yet it felt that the air was shifting, thickening, and some kind of strange force connected them and pulled them closer. Her body tensed and tingled in awareness. She should speak, say something. Her lips parted but she couldn’t utter a word.
He was the one who broke the silence. ‘By the way, your granddad is helping Rachel put the boys to bed, but he said he wouldn’t mind a tipple and Rachel sent me to get some brandy.’
She nodded and indicated one of the cupboards. ‘There’s a bottle in there.’
He seemed to fill in all the space as he walked in. Brushing past her, he opened the cupboard, took out a bottle of brandy and reached out for the liquor glasses. ‘Shall I get a glass for you?’
‘Why not?’ She tilted her chin, gazed into his eyes, feeling altogether hot, weak and dizzy now he was within touching distance. A little brandy would steady her.
Stefan put four glasses on the worktop, filled a small measure of liquor in two of them and handed her a glass.
‘Santé.’
They clinked their glasses together, and Cassie drank hers in one big gulp. Fire erupted in her throat, and trailed all the way down to her stomach. She coughed and tears burned her eyes.
‘That was a mistake,’ she croaked, before coughing again and gasping for air.
‘Allow me.’ He slipped her empty glass out of her fingers and put it down. Stepping closer, he encircled her in his arms, pulled her against his chest, and gently tapped the palm of his hands between her shoulder blades.
Her cough eased off, then stopped, but he didn’t move. ‘Better?’ As usual, his deep voice gave her goosebumps.
‘Much better,’ she lied.
She wasn’t better at all. Her heart thumped fast and wild and the heat from his body penetrated through her clothing. She tilted her face up, arched against him and lifted her hands on to his shoulders. He tensed under her touch, his arms tightened around her, and fire burned in his tawny lion eyes. How she wanted to stay right there… and how she yearned for his kiss…
He wasn’t moving. He hardly appeared to be breathing. Would she dare? Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his, breathing in his scent, and shivering as the stubble on his cheeks rasped against her skin, making her body tight and hot at the same time.
It only lasted one second. Two perhaps. He didn’t respond but remained hard and still. Then he released her and stepped back.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Joseph Bell walked into the kitchen and pointed to the toaster. ‘Something’s burning. Are you two just going to stand there like lemons or are you going to do something about it?’