By the time Martha visited, everything would be back to normal.
Hopefully.
13
‘Where did Steven go?’ Gran asked as Rae set down the basket of fruit on the dining table. The plates from their dinner had been left piled in the sink, so she ran the hot water, turning her back to hide her grimace.
‘Struan,’ she corrected. ‘And he’s gone home. He said thank you for the food.’
‘I bet he said it was better than yours, too.’ Gran sniffed, flicking on the kettle on the counter next to Rae. She grimaced at the sound, feeling a little more sensitive than usual. Had she been still in the restaurant, she would have been hiding in the freezer by now. Doing the dishes was the next best thing, and also a way of collecting herself before she returned Martha’s four missed calls.
‘He did, actually. Where’s Dad?’
‘Watching the telly.’ Gran surveyed her through icy eyes. ‘There’s grass in your hair. And your T-shirt is damp.’
Oh, God. She knew.
In a panic, Rae shook her ponytail out to cover the damp circles over her chest. Her nipples were still visible, still seeking out that delicious chafe against wet fabric.‘I was sweaty out there, harvesting the tayberries.’
‘Oh, and what a bountiful harvest it must have been.’
In the kitchen window, Rae’s reflection turned the same colour as the blazing sunset outside. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘Did you at least use protection?’
Her grip tightened around the bottle of washing up liquid, bubbles puffing out of the spout and popping between them. ‘Gran!’
‘What? Albert and I ran this farm for fifty years. I know what sort of shenanigans can happen.’ She waggled her finger. ‘It’s a little-known fact that tayberries are an aphrodisiac.’
Not even cleaning could save her from this. She turned off the hot water and backed away from the sink, sweat trickling down her neck. ‘I’m going to go upstairs and possibly drown myself in the bath now. Goodnight, Gran.’
‘Half-a-job Harry,’ Gran grumbled.
Rae dashed upstairs, almost tripping over Milly in the process, and closed her bedroom door to muffle her groans. She’d made a mess. An embarrassing, selfish mess. She would have to tell Martha. She couldn’t keep this bottled up, not when they were already struggling.
She pulled out her phone and found it dead, so flopped onto the bed to plug it into its charger behind the nightstand. As she waited for it to switch on, she flipped between complete and utter panic and heady memories of Struan’s fingers inside her. The way he’d talked through it all, low and raspy and gentle. He’d known exactly how to curl into her G-spot, and those praises when she’d made him come had sent jolts of triumph through her.
Lust smouldered inside her,enough that she considered touching herself just to pretend it was his fingers, but she knew it wouldn’t be the same. Hers were short and clumsy. His had been long and nimble, stretching her out in new ways.
Her illuminated phone screen pulled her out of her dirty little reverie.
Martha was already video calling her again, and she took a deep breath before tapping the accept button with a trembling thumb.
‘Nice of you to finally pick up!’ Martha sported an only partially fake glower. She sat out on her patio, a book about astronomy open in her free hand and the sky reflected in the lenses of her glasses.
‘I’m sorry. I was…’ That lump returned to her throat as she sat up on the bed. ‘Martha, I need to tell you something—’
‘Do you know how aggravating it is to do this with you every single day?’ Martha cut in. Rae knew she was in trouble when she saw the red splotches of anger on her best friend’s neck, interrupted only by the gold crescent moon necklace Rae had gotten her for her birthday three years ago. She’d tried so hard to keep Martha in her life, keep in contact even over oceans and across opposite time zones, but she’d failed.
‘I made excuses for you when you were in Australia,’ Martha continued, ‘but now you’re not. You’re a few hours away, yet you still won’t pick up my calls.’
‘My phone was on silent—’
‘It always is!’
Rae flinched at the sharp shout crackling down the phone. Martha was right. Life was overwhelming enough without having to think about all the people she barely had time to call, so she’d grown detached from the device completely. It wasn’t an excuse. She should have tried harder. She just…
Couldn’t breathe. She was panicking again. She tried to swallow it down.
