Back to the Farm Ch. 03

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evanslily
evanslily
2,882 Followers

"Matt--please! Don't!" Melissa gulped as his fingers moved towards the handle. "I don't think I'm up to coping with the smell of mouldy food."

"Then hold your breath. We need to know what we're dealing with."

She clapped a hand over her mouth and he opened the door. But the fridge was empty. Matt leaned in and sniffed. "It's clean. Everything's been cleared out. And--" he opened the lower door "--the freezer's empty too."

"The bathroom was clean as well." She hadn't given it a second thought until now. And there had been fresh linen on the bed. "Someone's been here ahead of us. I wouldn't have thought that Charlie was up to doing that kind of thing before he left."

Matt frowned but didn't comment. Instead he found a pile of saucers and passed her the ice cream tub and a box of matches. "I'll cook. You stay put. Light some candles before it gets too dark to see what we're doing."

Fifteen minutes later they were tucking into steaming platefuls of pasta. There was a certain irony to this situation, she thought, ravenously shovelling in the first few mouthfuls. She was eating a candlelit supper with a man she'd detested for years.

He paused to watch her, fork in hand. "When exactly did you last have a meal?"

She hesitated. "Work was busy. I didn't have time for lunch. Doesn't often happen, but it did today, okay?" She sighed and looked down at herself. "And anyway, it's not like I'm going to fade away, is it?"

"Hmm." Matt gave her a long, appraising stare. "This is where I'm supposed to say you're not fat, right?"

So much for the romance of a candlelit supper, she thought bitterly. "Whatever," she said, with another heavy sigh. "I know I'm never going to be Miss World."

He looked amused. "Now you're really fishing."

"I'm not!" She was grateful the flickering light wasn't enough to fully illuminate her face. "That's not what I meant. I just meant I'm aware I could do with losing a few pounds. And I'm not especially pretty." Oh God. Not only was she digging an even deeper hole for herself, she couldn't think of anything to say that would make things any better. "Look--just forget it."

Remembering the breathtaking sight of Melissa virtually naked on the driveway--an image he knew he wouldn't easily forget--Matt put his fork down, his smile widening as he continued to watch her. "You actually believe what you're saying, don't you?"

"I said forget it!"

Unbelievable, Matt thought, almost sadly. She had no idea how beautiful she was. "Newsflash, Lissy. Not all men find stick-thin blonde bombshells like your friend Gemma attractive, okay?"

"You do! I saw the way you looked at her. And Charlie used to say that every time he saw you you had a different long-legged gorgeous blonde on your arm."

"Oh that's not fair." Matt was still smiling but there was a defensive edge to his tone. "I haven't been out with a long-legged gorgeous blonde in months."

She shook her head, scooping up another forkful of pasta. "Matthew McKenzie, when you get married I guarantee it'll be to a long-legged gorgeous blonde."

"No, it won't because I have no intention of getting married."

She gaped at him, taken aback. "Ever?"

"Nope." He met her gaze, solemn now. "And before you ask, I don't intend to have any kids either."

"Why?"

"Are you kidding? After the mess my parents made of it all? No way."

She still couldn't quite believe he was serious. "But if you found the right woman, if it was true love--"

He shook his head. "There's no such thing as true love."

"There is! What about Charlie and Suzie? I've never known two people more in love."

"Oh, come on Lissy! Even their relationship wasn't perfect." Matt finished the last mouthful of his pasta and pushed the plate away.

She frowned. As the child of a single mother her uncle and aunt's relationship had seemed pretty idyllic to her. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." He closed his eyes briefly and sighed. "No relationship can ever be perfect. Look, I have nothing against other people getting married and having all the children they want. It just isn't for me, that's all." He pushed back his chair and carried his plate across to the sink.

She considered his words in silence for a moment, watching as he poured a saucepan of hot water into the washing up bowl before adding a squirt of washing up liquid. "That's ridiculous," she burst out at last, getting up to join him. "And completely selfish."

Matt frowned and threw her a tea towel. "How is it selfish? Whenever I start a new relationship I make it clear from the outset that marriage and kids are never going to be on the agenda. "

She couldn't help giving a snort. "How romantic. Bet that goes down well with the ladies."

"Most of them don't seem to mind."

"Oh really?" She picked up a wet plate and began to dry it. "Are you going out with someone at the moment?"

"No."

"How long was your longest relationship?"

He raised his eyebrows. "How long was yours?"

She grimaced, determined that topic would remain off-limits. "We're not talking about me, we're talking about you. Who was your longest relationship with?"

"I don't know." He pondered for a moment. "Rachel, I s'pose. We went out for about a year."

She remembered Charlie telling her about Rachel. Pretty but dim, he'd said. "And why did you split up?"

"It was when I first started working abroad for weeks at a time. She met someone else while I was away."

"Ha!" Melissa pounced. "So she wanted more from the relationship."

"Well yes, I guess she wanted a boyfriend who was actually around." Matt sighed and shook his head. "What's your point?"

"My point is, a lot of women will say that they don't mind about the marriage and kids thing. But the truth is, nearly every one of them believes that she might be the woman that changes your mind."

"Oh, come on Lissy!" He emptied out the bowl then turned to face her, clearly annoyed. "We don't live in the dark ages any more. It isn't every woman's dream to be a wife and mother these days."

"No, I don't suppose it is, but it's nice to have the choice. Any woman who decides to get involved with you for the long haul won't have that choice. That isn't fair. People change." She hesitated. "You might change. You might fall in love."

Matt snorted. "There you go with that 'love' word again. I sincerely doubt it."

Melissa frowned. "Why not?"

"I don't think love exists. Not really." He turned to pick up the saucer and candle from the kitchen table. "Oh, I know other people think it does. But I think it's probably just a manifestation of lust. Or a state of co-dependency. But love is just a myth, Lissy. The stuff of romantic fiction."

He couldn't be serious, she thought. "How d'you know? Haven't you ever been in love?"

"I thought I was once." He lifted his gaze and gave her the briefest of smiles. "That's how I know that I'm right." And with that, he walked out of the kitchen.

The sudden gloom was overwhelming, immediately blocking Melissa's ability to make sense of his words. "Matt!" Suppressing a shriek, she hurried after him into the hall. "Do you mind? I was still in there."

"So you are you're still scared of the dark. Lissy, you're twenty-nine years old!"

"I'm not scared of the dark! Of course I'm not. That would be really silly--" She stopped abruptly, seeing him pick up the umbrella and open the front door. A draught of chilly air flooded the corridor. "Where are you going?" A knot of fear tightened in her stomach. She'd annoyed him so much he'd changed his mind. He was going to walk down to the village after all. He was going to leave her there. Alone...

"For heaven's sake." Matt threw her a scornful glance. "I'm going out to the shed. I'm hoping there'll be some logs for the wood burner. In case you hadn't noticed, it's bloody cold in here. If that's okay with you, of course?"

"Right. Yes." She let go of her breath and stared at the candle he was holding. "I s'pose you'll be needing that then."

With a sigh that nearly extinguished the flame, Matt turned and thrust the saucer into her hand then strode out of the door.

*

"What the hell are you still doing out here?"

Melissa shrieked as Matt's deep voice cut through the darkness of the kitchen. "Do you mind?" she gasped, heart pounding. "Did you have to creep up on me?"

"I didn't. You just didn't hear me." There was no trace of apology in his tone. He arrived at her elbow and peered into the washing up bowl. "That's my shirt."

"Yes." Frowning, she lifted up the fabric to the candlelight. "I'm fairly sure it's clean now. It's hard to tell in this light." With a sigh, she plunged it back into the water with her dress, squishing them together for one final rinse.

"Oh. You didn't need to do that." His voice softened. "Wow. I can't remember the last time someone washed a shirt for me."

She shrugged. "Your mother, maybe?" But even as she said the words she knew it was unlikely.

Matt laughed bitterly. "I doubt my mother's done any washing in thirty years. Heaven forbid--spoil her manicure? That's what the hired help's for. No, Aunt Suzie would've been the last person to wash a shirt for me."

They were both silent for a moment, picturing Suzie standing at that very sink. Yet another painful memory. Suddenly desperate to push away her grief, Melissa tipped the water out of the bowl and attempted to squeeze as much moisture out of the clothes as possible. Not an easy task, given both hands were numb with cold. "So who washes your shirts now then?"

"I do, of course." He sounded indignant. "Did you think I have them all dry-cleaned? Or that I just buy new ones when they get dirty?"

"I don't know." Melissa was growing weary of the constant sniping. "I don't know what I thought, to be honest." Hauling the empty bowl on to the draining board, she dropped the clothes into it then rinsed her hands one last time, grimacing at the iciness of the water. "Look, Matt." She sighed deeply. "Does it have to be like this?"

"Like what?"

"Well--" She hesitated. "We're stranded here tonight, right? Whether we like it or not. So how about--?"

"Well, not necessarily," Matt interrupted, rather brusquely. "Staying was your idea, remember? But if you like, it's not too late for me to go out in the driving rain to fetch help. It would mean me getting very wet and having to leave you here, all alone in the dark but hey--"

"Shut up!" Infuriated she swung around to face him, her fingers dripping over the floor. "Just shut up! Do you really think I wanted to be stuck here with you tonight? It's the last thing I wanted."

He suddenly smiled, as though enjoying her outburst. "Because you hate me, right?"

"I--" His amusement only served to make her angrier. "I don't like you, no."

He seized her wrists and took a step towards her, still smiling. "You're all wet." Reaching for a tea towel, he began to dry her hands. "You said you hated me."

"No." She watched as he blotted each finger, taken aback by the intimacy of the gesture. "Gemma said the 'hate' word, not me."

"Really?" He was grinning now, eyes dancing in the light of the flickering flame. "You never said 'hate'? You know, someone once told me that hate is the flip side of love. So you can't hate someone if you didn't love them first."

Too late she realised Gemma had said the very same thing. She must have used the word 'hate'. Her cheeks burned. "So? You don't believe in love, remember?"

"Oh yes, that's right, I don't." He tossed the tea towel over a chair and took another step towards her, his body now skimming hers. "Hell, Lissy, you're freezing again."

As he moved closer still, his arms folding around her back, she could feel the heat radiating from his body. A sharp tingle shot down her spine. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Warming you up. If this doesn't work, I'll have to take you to bed."

"What?"

He laughed again, looking intently into her upturned face. "Oh no, I forgot. I can't do that. Because you hate me, don't you?" And before she could draw breath to reply, he dipped his head and kissed her.

It started as the gentlest of kisses, his lips warm and soft, a teasing gesture intended merely to demonstrate he knew she didn't hate him. Except that a second after his mouth met hers, it became so much more, shards of desire skittering through her before exploding like a thousand tiny firecrackers. By the time he finally raised his head, the laughter had faded from his expression, leaving her in no doubt he'd been equally moved. Their eyes met and held for a long moment.

"Well." He gave an uneasy smile, his hands still warm on her back. "It's been a while since we last did that."

So he hadn't forgotten. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it. "Matt--"

"No, I'm sorry. That shouldn't have happened. His arms fell away so abruptly she felt bereft. "Forgive me. I don't know what I was thinking." Dropping his gaze, he brushed a hand through his hair. "We--er--we should go and sit in the living room, you know. It'll be warmer in there now."

He turned and left the kitchen without a backward glance. Swallowing hard, Melissa reached into the bowl for the wet clothes. "I'll--I'll be there in a minute," she called, unnerved to find her voice unsteady. "I'll just hang these in the bathroom to dry." She threw the dress and shirt over her arm, grabbed the candle and, on jelly-like legs, stumbled out into the hall.

That shouldn't have happened. I don't know what I was thinking. Matt's words taunted her as she entered the bathroom and carefully planted the candle on the tiled windowsill. Of course he hadn't meant to kiss her. But oh, what a kiss! She'd experienced the same rush of passion she'd felt that afternoon all those summers ago, when she and Matt had sat side by side in the tree house and shared their very first kiss. And now, just for a fleeting moment, she'd had a glimpse of what might have been...

Stop it, she told herself firmly. The kiss had meant nothing, and even if it had, did she really want to be just another of his conquests? "No, you don't," she whispered, as though hearing the words aloud would strengthen her resolve. Fingers trembling, she arranged the wet clothes across the line strung over the bath. Then gathering the last vestiges of her courage, she walked back down the hall towards the welcoming glow from the living room.

The wood burner was well alight, orange and yellow flames licking furiously against the glass. Matt was kneeling before it on the hearthrug, fiddling with the air vents. "You found some wood then," she said, attempting a bright tone.

"Yep." He sounded similarly casual. "Just trying to get this thing to throw out as much heat as possible. There's a blanket on the arm of the settee. Wrap yourself up."

"Right. Thanks." Melissa set down her candle on the coffee table then cautiously lowered herself on to the ancient settee, mindful of the springs that had long since burst through its base. Spotting the blanket she shook it open across her lap. "Er--what about you, though? Is this the only blanket?"

"The only one I've found so far. But it doesn't matter, I'm not cold." Matt straightened up and strolled over to the drinks cabinet. "Looks like Charlie's left us some whiskey. I think we could use some."

"I'll pass, thanks. You go ahead." But now Melissa found she was shivering violently, her hands shaking so much she couldn't grasp hold of the blanket to cover herself more effectively. "God," she muttered after a moment, trying to force a laugh. "This is re-really s-silly. I-I c-can't seem to warm up."

Glass of whiskey in hand, Matt swung around. "What?"

"Oh--I'll be all right in a m-minute, I'm sure" But she wasn't sure at all. Her teeth were chattering.

"Lissy!" Matt strode across the room, unceremoniously dumped his glass on the coffee table then yanked to her feet. "For heaven's sake! I said, wrap yourself up. You'll get pneumonia!"

"It's supposed to be an old wives' tale that you can c-catch a cold from being cold," she protested as he snatched up the blanket and unfurled it around her shoulders. "Ap-apparently you have to have been infected with a cold virus f-first."

"Is that so?" He sounded grim. And marching her over to the wood burner he pushed her down on to the hearthrug, crouching beside her then reaching back for the whiskey tumbler. "Drink this."

"N-no! I don't drink alcohol."

"I don't care. This is medicinal."

Melissa opened her mouth to object, but upon seeing the determined look in Matt's eyes thought better of it and took a sip. The fiery Scottish liquor burned her throat and made her choke. "Urrgh," she muttered with a grimace, lowering the glass.

Matt covered her fingers with his own and lifted the whiskey back to her lips. "Stop being a baby. More."

By the fourth sip, Melissa had stopped shivering. With a relieved sigh, Matt sank down on to the rug beside her, stretching his long legs out in front of him. "I'd forgotten how you never did what you were told."

Melissa was unsettled by his proximity. "That's rich, coming from you."

Matt grinned nonchalantly. "I'm an arrogant male, what's your excuse?" He reached over to pluck the whiskey glass from her fingers, took a large gulp then placed it back in her hand.

Surprised, she thrust the glass back at him. "I don't want any more. This was yours anyway."

He waved it away. "Just shut up and keep drinking. It'll do you good."

Melissa wasn't sure he was right. But the spirit seemed to be gradually warming her from the inside out. She took another cautious sip. Strangely, it no longer tasted so strong. "What time is it?"

Matt examined his watch. "Coming up to half past nine. Why? Is it past your bedtime?"

"Ha ha. You were always the one who got us sent to bed early for doing stupid things. It was your bright ideas that got us into trouble."

"Ah yes, but didn't we have fun?" He grinned suddenly. "Do you remember that day when we played cricket in the orchard?"

"What, the time you threw the ball into one of the pear trees, straight into the middle of that wasps' nest?"

"And all the wasps came swarming towards us." Matt shook his head with a laugh. "What a bloody stupid thing to do. We could've been stung to death."

"If Uncle Charlie hadn't been there with the garden hose we probably would've been."

"Why the hell didn't you stop me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Matt, I could never stop you doing anything. Do you remember the time you tried to jump the stream on your bike? You rigged up that plank--"

"Oh yeah! Evil Knieval-style. God, I was so sure I'd make it."

"Well maybe you would've done if your bike had had a motor."

He grimaced, borrowing the glass for another sip. "Not one of my finer moments."

"No but you did get to sport that rather fetching plaster cast on your arm for the rest of the summer."

"I kept that cast for years, you know. My mother nearly went berserk because I wouldn't throw it away. But how could I get rid of it? I got everyone to write their favourite joke on it."

She looked at him curiously. "Bet you don't remember the joke I put on there."

"Oh, don't I?" He smiled. "What do you get if you cross a sheep with a kangaroo?"

"A woolly jumper. God, that's awful." She found herself absurdly pleased. "So you do remember."

"Oh, I remember lots of things." His eyes met hers for a second longer than was necessary. "You weren't exactly perfect yourself though. How about the time you managed to get yourself locked in the hay barn?"

"What?" She attempted to take another swig of whiskey only to find the glass already empty. "I don't remember that."

"You must do." Matt took the glass, rose to his feet and walked across to the drinks cabinet. "You were probably only about five years old at the time. Aunt Suzie had sent you to fetch Uncle Charlie in for tea but Charlie came in about five minutes later. It turned out he hadn't seen you, just came in of his own accord. We waited and waited but you didn't come back. So we all went out to look for you."

evanslily
evanslily
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