‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…’ Nate coughed slightly to hide his discomfort.
‘Not at all, Nate.’ Bill turned to the archaeologist. ‘Not at all.’
Chapter Six
Nate
The week after Fletcher family dinner, and that heated moment in the cupboard under the stairs, saw a thawing between him and Laurel. In fact, it was actually quite warm, and there was the distinct promise of friendship. With perhaps a bit of flirting thrown in for good measure. Just a bit, not a lot.
He had turned it into a game, seeing if he could get the right drink for Laurel in the morning. He was there early because he hated being in the bunkhouse when the students roused themselves from their slumber and scurried messily around for food and clothes that weren’t too filthy. Whether they had discovered Simon and his laundrette in town was anyone’s guess. Today, he sat with two cups of peppermint tea in front of him, having received a grin and a head shake from Laurel.
Nate glanced across the office at her, engrossed in whatever was on her computer screen, a slight frown crinkling her forehead.
‘Do you know anything about trout?’ Laurel asked, tilting her head at him speculatively.
Nate frowned. ‘I know how to cook trout, but beyond that…’ He trailed off. ‘Why?’
‘I don’t know, you just look like the kind of guy who would know about trout fishing.’ She grinned at him. Was she winding him up?
‘I consider fishing to be one of the most mind-numbingly boring things to do.’ He stretched his arms above his head, watching Laurel scan his chest. ‘Second only to golf.’
Her eyes came back to his. ‘Did your dad never take you fishing?’
He shook his head. ‘God, no. Did yours?’ he challenged.
‘No, Jack always wanted to, but Dad was too busy on the farm.’ She leaned back in her chair, uncrossing her legs under her desk. ‘I took Robin once. It did not go well.’
Laurel breathed out a little self-conscious laugh, like she’d just overshared. Nate’s stomach lurched. She’d given him a glimpse, a tiny sliver of her life and he greedily shoved it in his pocket for further analysis later.
‘My dad went out for cigarettes when I was about ten, and never came home.’
‘Oh.’ She tucked her hair behind her ear.
‘It was a long time ago. I’m over it.’
Nate wasn’t sure why he felt the need to tell her that, but he did.
It was her turn to say something and he waited patiently. She was probably imagining how she would have coped with her father wandering off and never coming back.
‘Well,’ she raised one shoulder, ‘his loss. Is it just you?’
‘Just me and my mum,’ he said. Nate couldn’t help but glance wistfully at the picture of the Fletcher children on the wall.
‘She must be really special.’ Laurel’s voice was honey quiet, her golden eyes searching his face for something.
‘Yeah, she is,’ he said softly.
Laurel’s throat bobbed in a swallow. He let his eyes wander over her lips to the sleekness of her neck and across her collarbone, exactly how he could trace her skin with his mouth. She would taste of buttercups and jasmine, and her breath would catch in her throat.
Laurel’s phone vibrated angrily on her desk, jerking him out of his reverie. His eyes flicked quickly up to hers. She was flushed, those full lips parted, her eyes a wanton dark gold. Her phone vibrated again and she grabbed it, tapping at it forcefully.
‘Sylvie, hi,’ she breathed.
Nate turned back to his paperwork, satisfied. So, it hadn’t been a one off, the way Laurel’s body had stilled against his in the cupboard at Bill’s house.
Laurel Fletcher was attracted to him.
‘Mmm hmm, sure, I’ll ask him’
