She twisted around and regarded the clock. ‘It’s been stored in an insulated cupboard along with Mum’s excess furniture, and she’s had it checked over every couple of years by a clockmaker.’
What did it mean that she’d brought it to him? Hadn’t taken an axe to it instead? ‘I don’t know what to say.’
‘There’s nothing to say. It always had your name on it. It’s nice that you’re still smitten. Let’s get it inside out of the weather. Though the sun has finally agreed to make an appearance it’s just as likely to change its mind when we’re not looking.’
Taking an end each, they carefully carried the clock in through the front door. ‘It’s not light,’ Hunter noted. ‘How’d you get it into your car?’ She’d dropped the back seats so it could fit through the trunk.
‘The security guy at the lock-up gave me a hand. Poppy was under threat of death if she threw up. I drove so slowly it’s a wonder I wasn’t picked up for dangerous driving.’
‘You’ve still got to get her back home.’ Hunter shifted the clock to the left, away from the sunlight filtering through the bay window, his fingers trailing down the woodwork again to make sure this wasn’t a dream.
‘I’ll work something out. She managed once, maybe I can push my luck and try again.’ Brenna was looking around the spacious sitting room. ‘Minimalist approach on the furniture, I see.’
‘Still haven’t made it to the shop.’
‘It’s early days.’ She was rolling her shoulders awkwardly.
‘You hurting?’
‘I always get a snag in my muscles from riding. It’s nothing to do with moving the clock.’
‘Bren, I don’t know how to thank you.’ The words squeezed around the emotion blocking his throat. He reached for her again, careful not to hurt her shoulders.
Again she winced. But before he could say anything, she placed a hand on his chest to stop him getting closer. ‘It’s Mum you should be thanking. Not me.’
Leaning down, he kissed her lightly, as a friend would. A friend who didn’t know if he meant more to her or not. ‘Let’s celebrate with a glass of wine. I haven’t got any champagne, sorry.’ Though exactly what he was celebrating was a mystery to him. The clock, definitely. But there was more, he just couldn’t identify the emotion. It felt familiar yet different. More than friendship, more than gratitude, less than love. Less than love? Or full-blown, heart-totally-involved love?
‘Dad, Poppy’s done wees on the step.’
Thank goodness for little boys and their intrigue with pee. ‘Fill the bucket by the tap outside the back door, will you?’
‘I’ll see to it.’ Brenna headed outside, leaving him to stare after her, wondering what he was going to do next.
This had moved everything to a different level. One he wasn’t sure he wanted to stop on. Face it, he didn’t have a clue what was going on, and judging by the wariness in her eyes he suspected Brenna wasn’t faring any better.
‘You mentioned wine,’ she said a few minutes later.
‘Did I?’ He shook his head. ‘Right.’ In the kitchen, he carefully poured two glasses, aware how shaky his hand was. ‘Follow me for the grand tour.’ He led her through the house, forced himself to laugh when she joked about the floor-to-ceiling stacks of cartons waiting to be unpacked, tried not to groan out loud when she bent over to push a train along the track on Dylan’s bedroom floor. It wasn’t the train disturbing him. Rather it was her sweet bottom with its perfect curves.
He wanted her. Now. Here against the wall. He couldn’t have her, even if she was willing. His son was out in the yard, playing with her dog. Not everything about fatherhood was perfect. She’d probably turn him down anyway. There was wariness in her eyes, and she didn’t look at him very often.
‘Come on, let’s sit on the back porch so we can keep an eye on the kids.’ Out of temptation’s way.
‘Good idea.’ She seemed fixated on walls and carpets and furniture—or the lack of it. She might find something else to take her interest outside.
‘Brenna, can Poppy stay for dinner?’ Dylan stood in front of her, hands on his hips.
He was a right little copycat of his dad, Hunter acknowledged.
‘Probably not tonight,’ Brenna answered after a brief pause.
‘We’re having pizza. I can order extra if you’d like to stay.’
‘Yes, say yes, Brenna. Then Poppy and I can play some more.’ Dylan jumped up and down, his arms in danger of connecting with Brenna.
Leaning back, she laughed. ‘I can hardly say no to that, now, can I? Yes, I’d like to stay for pizza.’
‘Whoopee,’ Dylan shouted, and ran around in circles on the lawn.
‘Where does he get his energy?’
‘Asks the woman who never seems to get tired.’ How come his son got her to laugh so easily?
‘Believe me, I’m feeling it in my legs right now. Uphill cycling takes it out of me every time. I really should get into a training routine but I’m not disciplined enough.’
Was that why she was limping a little? ‘Doesn’t sound like you.’ She’d been very strict about her spare time when studying medicine, as she’d needed to be in order to qualify.
‘That’s because it’s not the end of the world if I bomb out on a ride occasionally. I do it for fun, not to be the best.’ Her gaze wandered around his back yard. ‘You’ve got a reasonable amount of space out here. What are you going to do with it?’
‘Put in a dog run and kennel and dig a vegetable garden. That’ll take care of most of it.’ With spring supposedly on the way, though apparently delayed, the gardening would be a priority.
‘Have you talked to the breeder again?’
‘I put an order in for a male yesterday. It’s happening. I haven’t told a certain person yet, otherwise there’ll be no shutting him up until the day it comes home with us, which is weeks away.’
She was watching Dylan dragging Poppy around on a short rope. ‘He’s not afraid of Pops at all. That’s a good sign.’
‘As long as he recognises the difference between gentle dogs and aggressive ones, I agree.’ Hunter stood. ‘I’ll phone the pizza house.’
Brenna looked up. ‘This is so relaxing.’
‘Nothing like your normal Sunday afternoon, then?’
‘I don’t sit around very often. There’s usually something needing my attention.’ Finally, a smile radiated out at him, sucking him in and turning him to mush. It might’ve been better if she’d kept up the wariness.
‘Any preference for your pizza?’
‘Surprise me.’
A perfect end to a not-so-bad week.
* * *
Brenna rinsed the plates before putting them into the dishwasher, trying to ignore the dull throbbing in her arm and leg as she straightened up. ‘Shall I make coffee?’
‘Can Poppy stay the night?’ Dylan stood in front of her. ‘Please?’
‘I don’t think so. We’ve got to get up early in the morning so I can go to work.’
‘Please let her. I’ll wake her up very early.’
This kid was gorgeous, and so like his dad when he wanted something. That hands-on-hips thing was classic Ford. ‘Not tonight, I’m sorry.’
‘You can stay too.’ He didn’t give up easily.
Neither did she. ‘It won’t work, Dylan.’
‘Would it make a difference if I agreed with Dylan? You could stay for some of the night.’ That deep, raspy voice lifted the hairs on the back of her neck and sent her stomach into overdrive.
‘I could?’ Why not? It was what she’d been wanting for the last hour, after she’d finally abandoned the caution over getting too close and friendly for tonight. Then what he’d said impacted. ‘Some of the night?’ He didn’t want her here when he woke up to get ready for work? Too intimate in that it was snug and cosy and spoke of mor
e than just sex? She could work with that if it meant having off-the-scale sex with Hunter.
Trollop.
‘Dylan, take Poppy outside for a few minutes in case she wants to do wees again.’ As boy and dog disappeared, Hunter turned back to her. ‘Dylan’s still getting used to moving away from his grandparents and his friends at preschool, and making new friends and settling in. I don’t think he’s ready to deal with you being in my bed when he gets up in the morning. He’d want to know what’s going on.’