AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He hadn’t had a heck of a lot of contact with Ellie’s son so far this summer, but he seemed like a good kid. Generally during the summer holidays, ever since Toto had been big enough to negotiate the dangers of farm life, Art had left her to her own devices. She wasn’t a whiner or a fusser and she knew that he didn’t have time to entertain her. But, even so, most summers he would rope her into a project or two when she got bored. He would have been hard-pressed to do that this summer with the construction work on the shop, but Josh’s presence had made it unnecessary.
That said, the boy clearly had issues with him, or maybe just issues with men generally. He must have asked Josh a million times in the last two months to stop calling him ‘sir’. And the boy still forgot half the time.
‘You don’t want me to do it any more?’ Josh said, jumping to the wrong conclusion.
Art’s irritation level rose. ‘That’s not what I said.’ In fact, he had said exactly the opposite. ‘Totes,’ he called to his daughter, who had been so engrossed in slapping on the last of the treatment, she hadn’t been paying any attention to the conversation. He needed help though, before he freaked the kid out completely. ‘How about you guys quit for the night?’
She whipped up her face mask and grinned. ‘How much did we earn, we’ve been at it for hours and hours.’
He pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Shit, it was nearly six o’clock. For once Toto wasn’t exaggerating.
He did not want Ellie storming out here and giving him the third degree about child labour laws, because he’d been avoiding her since the night at the millpond. Having her eyes on him, seeing the way she had watched him before disappearing back into the woods, had stirred up all sorts of visions in his head he hadn’t been able to shake. He’d begun to fantasise about taking things between them a whole lot further. Which would not be a wise move on far too many levels.
She was Dee’s daughter, she would be going home at the end of the summer, and they didn’t really get on – give or take the odd gin-soaked kiss. And, ever since Alicia, he’d always made a point of keeping his sex life separate from his life on the farm.
He’d been the only parent Toto had for the last twelve years, and he didn’t plan to confuse his daughter by bringing another woman into his life. Alicia had left when Toto was still too young to remember her – she’d never asked about her mum, and he had absolutely no desire to encourage that conversation. If he and Ellie started something, it could lead to all sorts of complications he didn’t need.
But those salient facts held no sway at all with his sex drive. He’d wanted her when she was fourteen, even though she’d been a thorn in his side the whole time, and wanting her now was proving even harder to deny. So the only way to stop things getting out of hand was to avoid her.
‘Thirty quid a piece,’ he said, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. The two of them had put in a solid six hours today since Toto had wandered in that morning with Josh in tow and asked it they could earn some money to go to Gratesbury the next day.
Toto whooped. ‘You hear that, Josh, we’re rich.’
‘For real?’ The boy’s smile spread across his face, brightening his eyes, and reminding Art of Ellie again. Like he needed any reminding.
He counted out three twenties and handed the cash to Josh. ‘I told you, you’ve earned it.’
r />
The boy ran his thumb over the bills, and then lifted his head. His eyes sparkled in the blaze of fluorescent light, looking disturbingly moist.
Art tucked his wallet back into his pocket, something sharp and surreal kicking his ribs. Was the boy about to cry?
‘Thank you, sir,’ Josh said, his voice thick with what Art hoped to hell weren’t tears. Or worse, awe.
‘You’re welcome.’ Art’s hand swept out without him thinking it through, and he ruffled the boy’s hair. The secret smile that flashed across the child’s face was disturbing. What had he done to deserve such adoration? Not a lot, was the answer.
Either the boy was starved for male attention, or he had a very low threshold for his male role models. He had a feeling it might be both. While he didn’t know a lot about Ellie’s husband, he did know – even though he’d tried not to know, because it shouldn’t have been any of his business – that the boy’s father only got in touch via Skype once a week. Which made Art sure the guy was a dick.
If Josh were his son, no way would he want to be away from the boy for this long.
Toto broke up the moment, singing and bouncing like Tigger on speed as she grabbed Josh’s hands and the two of them danced about.
‘The job’s not finished till you get the brushes in turpentine and roll up the tarp.’ Art interrupted the celebration. Ellie would be in the shop handling the cash out and the clear up until at least six-thirty, so he had time to get her son back to the farmhouse before mamma bear showed up to read him the Riot Act.
The children set about rolling up the tarp without too much fuss, still riding high on their good fortune.
‘Can you take us into Gratesbury tomorrow to spend it?’ Toto asked, as she hefted the heavy bottle of turps off the shelf and began filling the jam jars he kept handy to soak the brushes – splashing liberal amounts of the noxious liquid on the floor.
‘Can’t, I’ve got this to finish,’ he said.
‘Could we take the bus in?’
‘Sure.’ He nodded, then remembered Ellie’s less liberal approach to childcare. ‘But Josh will have to get his mum’s permission.’
The kids shared a disappointed look and Josh’s smile dimmed. So Ellie was unlikely to give the go-ahead to that one? Maybe he shouldn’t have given his permission so easily either?
Not for the first time, Ellie’s hands-on approach to child-rearing made him question his attitude to Toto. But, as he watched his daughter and Josh finish up, he shrugged off the thought. Toto was a responsible kid, and she went to Gratesbury on the bus every day for school, and Josh had been doing the same in the weeks before the summer break – if Ellie had an issue with her son being more independent that was her problem, not his.
