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She returned with all the items in her freckled hands, settling slightly closer to me than before. Our thighs brushed, her bare skin hot against the denim covering mine. I cleared my throat.“Right… newspaper first, you don’t need much, just something to catch alight. Next, add three or four bits of kindling around it… keep a bit of space between them… perfect.” I nodded.“Now add two decent-sized logs, the drier the better.”
Tongue between her lips, she settled the logs, then shifted them, following my instructions to the letter. I almost told her it didn’t need to be perfect, people had made fires from a lot less, but I couldn’t bring myself to ruin it for her.
“Like that?” she asked uncertainly and I had to clear my throat again.
“Aye… that’s perfect.” Perfect. Perfect. Perfect. Learn another word, pal. I grabbed the box of fire lighters, peeled a white square from the packet, and held it out to her.“You could light it just like that, but it’s a lot easier with one of these.”
“Is that not cheating or something?”
“Cheating who?”
She shrugged.“I don’t know… every chest-beating male in the world.”
I chuckled, the sound more like a breathy gust of air.“Why make it harder than it needs to be?”
Seeming to agree, she accepted it and followed my instructions to push it to the centre of the stack. Then she struck a match, laughing happily when the paper set ablaze, followed by the kindling. I stared at her, eyes memorising skin that glowed a sunset orange, her hair a burnt scarlet.
Click.
Shit.
“I did that myself,” she said eventually.
“Yes you did.”
She turned to me, her features soft and warm, a coin flip from the way she’d looked at me five minutes earlier.“Thank you.”
Dammit, I hadn’t even apologised yet. Shifting away, I clamoured to my feet and perched on the edge of the sofa. The dogs instantly swarmed me, but I let my hands fall between my open knees, looking as near to her eyes as I dared. I made it to the small freckle on the bow of her top lip.“I’m sorry for my behaviour… earlier, I mean. I’m not… well, you see…” I straightened and swallowed, wishing like hell I’d pulled my scribbled notes from my pocket before beginning this shit show.“I’m not good at this.” I was suddenly glad not to be looking at her because that was a bare-minimum, one-star, do-not-recommend apology.
“Not good at apologising?”
My eyes fell further, taking in the comfy, oversized T-shirt she’d paired with her shorts. Gone was well put together April, this was relaxed April. Sunday morning in bed April. I scrubbed at my beard.“I’m not good at any of it.”
She made a hmm sound, before:“Accepted.”
“What?”
“Your apology, I accept it.”
“Just like that?” I asked incredulously.
She shrugged.“You meant it, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I accept.”
Could it really be that simple?
Like she’d read my silent question, she laughed.“Mal, let me give you some advice. Women aren’t as complicated as men like to make out. We don’t need you to walk across hot coals when all we’re looking for is a sincere apology. That’s always the part that gets missed out.”
I nodded, fully taking the words on board.“Whatever you want to do regarding social media, you have my blessing. Not that you need it,” I added.“And the tasting, I’d like you to go ahead with it as long as you would be okay with me setting some boundaries. I know the land belongs to you, but it’s been my home for a long time and I—” I broke off, unsure how to word my anxious thoughts.
“Whatever you need,” she agreed immediately.“We’ll keep it small, set boundaries for where guests can explore. You won’t even need to be there if you don’t want to.” I nodded my thanks, breathing slightly steadier now.“Now that’s out of the way,” she said cheerily.“I was thinking you should try being my friend again, start up the old book club.”
“We were never in a book club.”
“Sure we were, I gave you my copy of Twilight that summer, remember?”
