Back to the Farm Ch. 06

"Matt, stop it." Melissa glared at him, suddenly suspicious. "Stop this. You're just winding me up again, aren't you? You've got some kind of bet going on with Jason, haven't you?" She closed her eyes and groaned. "Please. Don't do this. You didn't write, I know you didn't. And it's all right, I know why you didn't. Kissing me was just some kind of experiment, wasn't it?" She gave another moan. "God, for all I know, kissing me that day was just for a bet too, wasn't it?"

"Lissy." Matt's voice was more earnest now. "I swear to you, I wrote. And I didn't kiss you for a bet, okay? I kissed you because I'd spent all summer wanting to do just that. Waiting for the right moment. Feeling like a complete prat because I'd never kissed any girl before. I was shit-scared I was going to screw it up, if you must know. Terrified that you'd knock me back, to be honest. Laugh in my face."

He was serious, Melissa realised incredulously. This wasn't a bet? "But if you wrote to me..." she faltered, at last daring to open her eyes to discover that Matt was still gazing straight at her, his brown eyes so dark they resembled liquid chocolate. "What--what happened to your letters? Why didn't I get them?"

"Why didn't I getyours?" he countered gently. "Could you have sent them to the wrong address or something?"

She gave him a withering look. "You were at that school from the age of eleven. I'd written to you before. Are you saying you never got any of those letters either?"

He looked puzzled. "Well of course I did."

"Then tell me how I could've got it wrong?"

Matt remained silent for a moment. "Okay," he said at last. "You're saying you did write--"

"Every day! But you never replied."

"I wrote to you too, Lissy."

"Then what happened?" She gave a bewildered shrug. "I didn't get anything from you. Not even a postcard. Like I said--" She swallowed hard, her fingers clenching tightly around her mug. "I thought you'd changed your mind. So after a bit, I realised I must be making a prat of myself and stopped writing."

"But you didn't even send me a birthday card that year."

She stared at him, aghast. "Of course I did. I stopped writing letters but I would never have ignored your birthday."

He stared back, his expression mirroring her own bewilderment. "Well," he said after a long pause, an odd note to his voice. "All these years, eh? All these years I thought you'd changed your mind."

"I thought you'd changed yours. I don't understand." To her dismay, tears prickled the corners of her eyes. She couldn't cryagain... "Oh God, Matt. What the hell happened?"

Frowning, Matt shook his head. "I have no idea. I don't--" But when she tore her gaze away, he swore softly under his breath. "Oh, Lissy. Sweetheart, please don't..."

But it was already far too late, the tenderness in his tone too much. Melissa took a desperate glance towards the rope, but before she could flee, Matt reached in to take her mug and a second later she was in his arms, her cheek pressed against his shoulder. The offer of solace impossible to resist, she let her tears fall unchecked, his embrace tightening as she wept, his head moving down over hers, his hand tracing lazy circles across her back. She had no idea how long she cried, no comprehension of the soothing words he murmured into her ear. All she knew was that when she finally raised her head, his mouth found hers.

Afterwards, she realised she should've been shocked. Instead, it seemed the most natural thing in the world, his lips warm and gentle, the contact almost piercingly sweet. And when after a few moments he deepened the kiss, she closed her eyes and surrendered to him completely, allowing him access to every part of her mouth before tentatively kissing him back, her desire mounting with every passing second. She could feel the hand on her back sliding lower, knew the moment he eased his fingers beneath the flimsy fabric of her camisole blouse, the mere sensation of his fingertips against her bare skin causing a series of sparks to shoot straight to her groin.

"Matt," she breathed at last, feeling rather giddy. "I... You..." But whatever she'd been going to say was lost the instant the hard object pressing against her thigh began vibrating violently. Her eyes flying open, she saw the shock in Matt's own expression give way to a rueful smile.

"Hold that thought," he said, making her gasp as he slid his hand between them to retrieve a buzzing mobile phone from the pocket of his shorts. "Damn," he muttered, studying the display. "I'm so sorry, I've got to take this." And as she continued to stare, he stabbed at a button and held the phone to his ear. "Hi, I'm here. What's happened now?"

Jolted from her blissed-out haze, Melissa experienced a surreal moment where she wondered whether what had just happened had all been a dream. But her still-tingling lips proved otherwise. And suddenly aware of what they'd done--oh, whathad they done?--she abruptly pushed herself back from the edge of the platform and scrambled to her feet.

"Lissy!" she heard Matt call as she staggered across to the rope. "Lissy--wait!"

But Melissa was already on her way down, mortification obliterating the vertigo she'd experienced earlier, friction burning her palms as she loosed her grip too soon and slithered to the ground. "Oh God," she muttered under her breath, sprinting back across the lawn to the kitchen door without a backward glance. "Oh God, oh God, oh God..."

So what if he'd sent her letters after all? So what if he'd never received any of the letters she'd sent him? It didn't change a thing, she reproached herself, marching straight into the second bedroom. It didn't alter the fact he and Jason had tormented her the following summer, it didn't explain why he hadn't spoken to her at Aunt Suzie's funeral and it sure as hell didn't mean he'd had an excuse not to tell her Charlie was dying.

Why had she let him kiss her?

Giving a low moan, Melissa wrenched down one of the boxes. When Matt came to find her--and she was certain he would--he'd want to talk, she realised, already dropping to her hands and knees and tearing off the plastic cover. But she couldn't talk if she was busy, could she? "Charlie," she wailed, shaking her head before raking out the contents, a garish selection of fabric swatches and balls of wool. "Why did you keep all this? What were you thinking?"

But the moment her hand alighted on a battered rectangular tin, her frantic movements ceased, her heart skipping a beat. And taking a deep breath, she lifted it out and opened the lid, the metal cold against her fingers, the distinctive aroma of shaven wood flooding her nose.

Charcoal pencils, a dozen or so, each hand-sharpened to her uncle's exacting standards. She could hear him now, the words so clear he might've been standing right next to her.Always leave your tools ready to use. That way you won't have to waste any time when you get the urge.

She heaved a shaky sigh then smiled, despite herself.The urge. Charlie had encouraged them to draw. He'd been the one to teach them about lines, about light and shade and perspective, maintaining one didn't need talent to draw, it was something that could be learned. Melissa had been none too sure about that; she'd always considered Matt's sketches to be far superior to her own. But she'd loved drawing just the same, relished the challenge of capturing an image, enjoyed the thrill of transforming a blank page into a picture. How long had it been since she'd last tried?

Intrigued by the thought, she rummaged deeper into the box. And seconds later, tin in one hand, sketchpad in the other, she leapt to her feet and fled out into the hall.

*

Clicking off his mobile phone, Matt toppled backwards on to the deck. "Fuck," he muttered, staring unseeingly at the leafy canopy overhead. "Fuck, fuck,fuck..."

Paula's timing couldn't have been worse. Not that it was his secretary's fault, he conceded, she'd had to call. Things in Singapore were going seriously pear-shaped. By rights, he ought to have asked her to book him a seat on the next flight out. But how could he leave Lissy now?

Groaning, he placed both hands beneath his head and closed his eyes. He'd kissed her--how could he have let that happen again? After promising himself he'd keep her at arm's length, that he'd go out of his way to make sure they spent as little time together as possible?

Because he'd wanted to kiss her, that was how. There was no way he could've resisted. And holy hell, she'd kissed him back, though she'd seemed adorably shy. But now he came to think about it, she'd been equally reticent when he'd kissed her that first night at the farm. Why? She'd spent most of her early twenties caring for her mother, but there must've been boyfriends, he reasoned. He definitely remembered Charlie telling him about some guy she'd dated during her last year at university--yes, Andrew, that was his name.

No, it couldn't be lack of experience. So what was it? Fear? Of him? He gave a snort, dismissing the idea out of hand. She was probably just confused. Well, he couldn't blame her for that. If poor Lissy was feeling even half the conflicting emotions he felt, she could be excused for running a mile...

But what had become of those letters? Why had they never arrived?

Forcing himself to sit up, Matt let out a sigh. What was the use in wondering? There was no point in torturing himself with thoughts of what might have been. It'd been half a lifetime ago, they'd been kids, for heaven's sake... Nope, it was time for some damage control. It was just as well he was good at it.

He drained his now tepid mug of tea then wriggled forward, twisting around to plant both hands on the edge of the platform. Launching himself over the side in the effortlessly agile manner that had so infuriated Lissy when they were younger, he dangled by his fingertips for a moment before dropping the last couple of feet to the ground. He allowed himself a small smile of triumph. Not bad for a bloke pushing thirty-two.

Several minutes later, having searched the bungalow to no avail, Matt felt rather less triumphant. Upon opening the front door, he wasn't particularly reassured to see his car still parked on the driveway. He already had a sneaking suspicion Lissy couldn't drive, even though she'd claimed her car was being repaired the first time he'd picked her up from Barrington Heights. Not only did he doubt she owned a car, he seriously doubted she had the means to live at Barrington Heights though quite why she'd felt the need to pretend otherwise, he couldn't fathom.

But just as he was beginning to fear she'd started walking back to Ebberlea, he spied her sitting cross-legged beneath the towering copper beech tree that had given the farm its name. Relief flooded through him in a surprisingly violent wave.

While she remained oblivious to his presence, he enjoyed the luxury of being able to gaze at her unchecked, smiling as he saw she was sketching, her head bowed over the page, those red gold curls falling across her face as she worked. When she lifted a hand to push back them back, he had an almost overwhelming desire to duck out of sight so he could carry on watching her. Managing to stand his ground, he grimaced as she spotted him at last, her expression abruptly growing wary.

Matt made the snap decision to behave as though that kiss in the tree-house had never happened. "Hey there, you," he said, taking care to keep his tone light as he strode towards her. "What are you drawing?"

Melissa clamped the sketchpad to her chest. "Nothing," she said, looking rather panic-stricken. "Just doodling, that's all."

"Doodling?" Amused by her reaction, he crouched beside her, holding out his hand. "It didn't look much like a doodle. Show me."

"No!" She clutched at the sketchpad even more tightly. "It's not good enough for anyone to see, let alone you."

"Let alone me?" He gave an uneasy laugh, stung by her words. "Liss, you let me look at all your pictures when we were kids. Did I ever--?"

"Yes, well we're not kids anymore, are we?" she cut in, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of rose pink. "It was different back then. It didn't matter what--" And then she stopped, growing pinker still.

Didn't matter what he thought? So it matterednow? Damage control, Matt reminded himself. He needed to let this go. If she didn't want to share her drawing, he had no right to insist.

Fuck damage control.

"Show me, or I'll tickle you."

"What?"

Just being able to witness the look of abject horror in her eyes had been worth the risk, Matt thought, laughing as he held out his hand again and waggled his fingers. "Come on. Let me see."

"No!" Melissa was already edging out of reach. "It wasn't meant for anyone to see, okay? It was just for me, for my eyes only. It was just--"

"Let me see, Lissy."

She'd found her feet now, those pale blue eyes widening as he took a step towards her. "Matt, please. Don't do this." Then another step. "Matt!"

She shrieked as he lunged forward, immediately darting behind the thick trunk of the copper beech. Abandoning all thoughts of behaving sensibly, he shot towards her, forcing her to leave her hiding place and run screaming along the driveway in the direction of the barn. Racing after her, Matt knew he'd catch up eventually. He couldn't remember ever losing a chase like this one but it had always taken a while; what she lacked in speed she'd always made up for in guile--and by the looks of things, she hadn't forgotten any of her tricks, weaving first left then right, bobbing out of the way just as she was within arm's reach.

Taking a glance over her shoulder as she drew up alongside the barn doors, Melissa gave another yelp and set off along the track for the orchard. Matt smelt victory. So she hadn't quite remembered everything then. Turning abruptly right, he vaulted over the fence and took a diagonal route across the meadow. While it was hard to run through the tangle of overgrown grass and wild flowers, he had the considerable advantage of having long legs and within moments, their paths intersected.

"No-o!" she cried as he hooked his right foot around her right knee. And laughing when she lost her balance, he threw his arms around her, dragged her tightly against his body and toppled with her to the ground, rolling until she landed on her back beneath him. "You pig! It's too hot for this!"

Matt gazed down at her, transfixed by the sight of her lying amidst the poppies and marguerites, her hair a golden halo in the late afternoon sunshine, her face flushed and glowing. Watching her chest rise and fall rapidly, he could feel the warmth emanating from her body, the slight dampness of her pale green blouse....

God help him, he wanted to kiss her again. But that way madness lay. "Then let me see," he said instead, his voice rather more unsteady than he would've liked. And using his knees to hold her firmly in place, he reached over to pluck up the sketchpad from where it had fallen into the long grass.

"Get off me!" she gulped, wriggling beneath him. "Matt!"

"You actually want me to tickle you?" he teased as he turned the pad the right way up, at the same time wondering what the hell he was saying. If he were to follow through with his threat there was only one place it could lead, her frantic writhing already close to being more than he could stand. No matter how much he wanted her right now, he couldn't allow things to go that far.

"Well, well, well," he said loudly, making a show of examining her drawings. "What have we here?" But even before he finished the question, he knew exactly what he was looking at. She'd sketched the front aspect of the bungalow and a floor plan, but neither depicted the house in its current state. No, she'd drawn plans--and highly detailed plans at that--of how itcould be. "Hey. These are good."

She shook her head. "No, they're not, they're rubbish. Matt, please. Let me go."

"Uh uh." Fascinated, he sat back on her thighs in order to study the page more closely. "I mean it, these are bloody brilliant." Trust Lissy. She'd always been her own worst critic, convinced the quality of her sketches fell far short of his own. "You still draw a lot then?"

"No." She'd stopped struggling, having apparently reconciled herself to being held captive. "What would be the point? I haven't done anything like that for years."

"Seriously?" He lowered the sketchpad to regard her with disbelief. "Why the hell are you a housing officer?"

"Well, technically, I'm not a housing officer," she said, rolling her eyes as if she'd explained a thousand times already. "I don't actually have the qualifications to call myself--"

"Lissy!" It was Matt's turn to shake his head. "You have no idea how good these are, do you? You knocked them off in, what--" he consulted his watch "--twenty minutes? Believe me when I tell you that there are a couple of juniors working at the practice who couldn't produce something as imaginative as this in twenty hours."

"Oh, stop it." She grimaced. "There's no need to butter me up. I forgive you for kissing me, okay? I'm well aware that the drawings are crap. There's no way any of it would work. Now for God's sake, let me get up."

I forgive you for kissing me? Repressing a grin, Matt released her at last, turning over to settle beside her in the grass. "Well that's where you're wrong," he said, stabbing his finger at the page. "Because those windows would work, definitely. And I absolutely agree that moving the front door is a good idea. It would make much better use of the space in the hall. And..." He frowned. "You've put a window in the roof."

She sat up and peered over his shoulder. "Loft conversion," she said, sounding sheepish. "I realise that's probably a really stupid idea. I daresay the loft isn't even big enough."

"Are you kidding? Of course it is."

"It is?"

"Yep." Matt smiled, amused by her childlike half-disbelieving, half-hopeful tone. "We can take a look later but I'm pretty sure... Oh, hell." He pulled a face, Melissa's sharp intake of breath confirming she'd had exactly the same thought. "The loft."

"I'd completely forgotten about it." She groaned. "It's going to be a total mess up there, isn't it?"

"I'd be very surprised if it wasn't. Damn." The chances of them clearing the bungalow within the week were beginning to appear rather slim. The last thing he'd wanted was for Lissy to deal with matters alone.

"Should we go and look now?"

"Well, you can, but I can't, I'm afraid." He winced again as she shot him an anxious glance. "I'm really sorry, Liss. I'm going to have to leave you to it for a bit. I've got to go into the office."

"Singapore?" she guessed, frowning when he nodded. "Things still aren't going well?"

"That could be the understatement of the decade. I've never known a project to get so fuck--" He stopped as she raised her eyebrows. "Screwed up," he corrected hastily. But when she smiled, he couldn't help smiling back. "I'm hoping I can sort some of it out from this end. There are a few favours I might be able to call in but I need to send some emails, a fax or two. I shouldn't be gone long, only a couple of hours. Although..." He paused, struck by a sudden thought. "Maybe you'd like to come with me?"

As her gaze narrowed, he experienced a jolt of disbelief. Why on earth had he invited her to tag along? "It isn't that far--it'll take us around half an hour to drive," he heard himself saying, even as he struggled to understand the inner workings of his own mind. "I can show you the plans for the new houses while we're there." When she continued to look uncertain, he added, "Plus, my car's got air-con. It might be nice to get out of the heat for a while."