As Nate headed up to the dig site, following the gravelled path past the pens of baby lambs, rabbits and tortoises (ah, the petting zoo), he tried to pinpoint what he had done to offend her.
It must be something from their time at university. Surely it couldn’t have been just today? Laurel had turned daisy-white when she’d seen him, turned her back and then bloomed into a beautiful crimson tulip when she’d finally faced him again. It must have been something from before, and something bad enough for Laurel to still remember it all these years later.
Laurel was attractive, there was absolutely no denying that. For Christ’s sake, he’d stumbled when he’d seen her.
There had been no one, really, since Lucia. Sure, there had been women, but no one that he wanted to introduce to his friends, and certainly no one he wanted to take home to his mother. No one that sparked anything in him. No one who had intrigued him.
But Laurel certainly did. Perhaps when he cracked her open, he’d find that she wasn’t as interesting as she seemed.
He’d find out Laurel’s deal from Jack tonight.
Chapter Three
Laurel
Laurel’s little flat in Lower Houghton was her haven. It was a few minutes’ drive from Little Willow Farm and that time in her little car was the most beautiful decompression time ever. It signified the end of the farm working day and the beginning of Laurel’s time. She never brought work home. If she needed to, she would go in early and finish late, but her flat was a work free zone. She needed at least some respite.
The flat was clean whites and greys, glass and marble, sharp edges and straight lines. It was a world away from the warm, pastel-coloured farm, with its artfully distressed signs, soft curves and fuzzy ducklings. No, this was modern and cool, her books neatly stacked on the floating shelves beside her TV, her sofa standing on industrial style metal legs.
Laurel had rinsed the worst of the cow muck off her dress in the farmyard, and rubbed copious amounts of Vanish into it, praying that most of the staining would come out before she sent it to the dry cleaners.
The first large glass of white wine barely touched the sides. Laurel curled up on the sofa and was well into her second when Rebecca called.
‘Why hasn’t my husband shut up about Nate Daley, and why has Nate Daley turned my best friend into a moping weirdo?’ She didn’t even say hi.
‘I’m not moping.’ Laurel pouted, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
‘You are moping, I can feel it. And why, for the love of god, is Jack ironing a shirt?’ She could hear the beep of the oven timer as Rebecca put tea on for the kids.
‘Apparently, they’re going for drinks tonight.’ Laurel tried not to sound bitter. ‘Jack and Nate,’ she clarified.
Rebecca fell silent.
‘How has Nate Daley turned my life upside down, and I haven’t even seen him in ten years?’
‘Yeah well, join the club,’ Laurel muttered, swallowing another mouthful of sauvignon blanc.
‘Are you still there? Do you want to come over?’
‘No, I’m at home. I left early. Couldn’t go up to the site because he was there.’ Laurel left out the part where Nate had actually invited her to the dig site at any time. On her own land. Laurel was not about to give him the satisfaction.
‘You left early? That’s like me leaving a pair of heels in the shop,’ Rebecca said. ‘It doesn’t happen.’
‘I’ve had a shitty day. The meeting with the accountant was less than good, the wedding I showed around wasn’t biting, and I fell on my arse in cow shit in front of Nate fucking Daley, so yeah, I left early.’ Laurel took a large gulp of wine. ‘Jack forced me to go,’ she admitted.
‘Say that last bit again?’ Rebecca said, closing the fridge and glugging post-work wine into her own glass.
‘Jack forced me to go.’
‘No, no, about falling in cow shit.’ The grin in Rebecca’s voice was evident.
‘I’m sure Jack will fill you in. It was mortifying! And then Nate Daley in his stupid perfect shirt with his stupid perfect hair was all like “oh let me help”, and my arse literally suctioned out of the shit.’ Laurel took a breath. ‘Don’t you dare laugh.’
Rebecca swallowed loudly down the phone. ‘I’m not laughing, I promise. Suctioned?’
‘Suctioned, squelch, suction.’ Laurel rolled her eyes and held the phone away from her ear as her best friend roared with laughter, exactly the same as Jack had done.
Rebecca caught her breath. ‘In front of Mr Perfect Hair?’
