‘Okay, but text me if you’re feeling bad about the whole, you know, thing,’ Rebecca said, hugging her tightly.
That was why she loved Rebecca.
Rebecca knew that she was full on blaming herself for George Hibbert and didn’t bring it up once. Laurel didn’t want to talk about it, she didn’t want to be reassured that itwasn’ther fault. Her logical brain completely knew that she had no control over how George Hibbert behaved. George chose to vandalise her place of work and she dealt with it in a professional, businesslike manner, getting the best deal that she could. Despite her father.
‘Love you,’ Laurel called over her shoulder as she headed for her car.
She kept her eye out for Nate on her way through the farm but didn’t spot him. She could call him, she supposed, or text him, apologise for how abrupt she’d been earlier. Her dad had been there, as had the Hibberts. They’d insisted on hearing her tell the policeman, and Nate, that statements were no longer needed.
Fine, as long as she got those damned fields.
Chapter Fourteen
Nate
Nate sat at Robin’s kitchen table with his laptop, the smell of furniture polish and lemon antibacterial spray lingering in the air. Laurel must have got in some industrial cleaners because they were in Robin’s house all day, and now it sparkled like a show home. He was sure that the students would make it less show home-y in no time. In fact, a few of them were sprawled across the sofa and onto the floor, glugging cheap beer, ringing for pizza and watching what can only be described as ‘absolute shit’ on TV.
At least he had a place to work and a bedroom that did not include other people.
He pressed send on the email to Jess to let her know he was bringing Laurel, closed his laptop and waited. It took approximately 45 seconds for his phone to ring excitedly. It was ‘excitedly’ because he knew full well it was Jess wanting the exact nature of his relationship with Laurel, and every tiny little intricate detail of their every interaction. Jess meant well, but she was a bit much sometimes.
This was just a barbeque with his friends, not a date. Laurel just needed to get away from Little Willow Farm and relax for a bit.
Jess usually only called once and left a long and rambling voicemail whining about why he never answered his phone or why he didn’t return his calls, and when, for the love of god, was Benji going to see Uncle Nate again? True to form, after a couple of minutes, the voicemail symbol popped up on his phone. He’d listen to the first ten seconds and then delete it before he could feel even more guilty about not being a better friend.
So, when his phone vibrated again on Robin’s kitchen table, he looked at the unknown number intrigued.
‘Nate Daley,’ he answered.
‘Why, hello, Nate Daley.’
Nate’s eyebrows sprang up.
Once, he’d have done anything for Lucia if she purred at him like this, put her full lips together and dipped her chin seductively, but he’d been immune to that now for a long while.
‘Lucia, this is a surprise, how are you?’ He sat back in his chair.
‘I’m really good, Nate. How are you?’ she said. He could practically feel her flipping her curls over her shoulder as she spoke.
‘Yeah, good.’ He waited, but she didn’t say anything. ‘Where are you now, what are you working on?’
‘I’ve been in Huaca de Chena in Chile.’ She pronounced it ‘She-lay’. ‘It’s an Inca site.’
He rolled his eyes. Every archaeologist worth their salt knew of the pre-Colombian cemetery at the foot of the Chena mountain.
‘And you? What mysteries are you unearthing?’
Nate used to think that Lucia’s fondness for the dramatic was aspirational, but now it was just a bit pretentious.
‘I’m on an Anglo-Saxon site,’ he said, not wanting to tell her anymore. She almost never called him. There must be a reason for this.
She gave a small laugh into the silence.
‘I’m really looking forward to seeing you next weekend. I’m around for a few days. Actually, I wondered if we might…’ she was silent for a couple of beats, ‘catch up, just the two of us?’
Oh, so it was a booty call. Hmm, this was new.
‘I don’t know, Lucia, I’m really busy. I’m not sure I can,’ he said, ever the diplomat.
