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If it’d been him and his bag, he would’ve sworn a blue streak.
Christmas Girl just laughed.
When he swooped in to heft the suitcase back up into the boot and managed to spill the rest of its contents in the driveway, she just laughed harder.
He hip checked the bag to keep it in place, then bent to scoop a few brightly coloured dresses and shorts off the ground, tossing them back into the bag. He made another grab and came up with a handful of lacy scraps.
He was so distracted by what were clearly her panties that the whole bag crashed to the ground again. “Bloody hell!”
Lena was doubled over and she swiped at her eyes. For a split second he thought her laughing had morphed into crying— but then a little squeaky wheeze sound came out of her, followed by a snort. “Oh my God! My unmentionables!” She could barely speak. But she wasn’t upset— the moment she got the words out, she was only laughing harder. Then he was laughing too and he couldn’t remember when he’d last laughed that hard.
“You’ve got to stop. My abs can’t take it!” She grabbed for his arm as if that would help. He flexed without even meaning to as a shiver went through him at her touch.
She took several deep breaths before moaning and pressing a palm to the bare skin at her belly. “Owwwwww!” That only made her cackle and then they both dissolved into laughter all over again.
When they’d finally calmed down, their breath coming in pants, he managed to hoist the bag into the boot. This time he held it in place while Lena put everything back inside and he tried unsuccessfully not to look. The bag was already so full he didn’t think they’d ever get it zipped again when she tried to shove a package of outdoor Christmas lights on top.
“You’ve, um, packed quite the gamut.” He pointed at the multi-coloured bulbs, thinking he might get a laugh out of her. Instead, she went serious again.
“Yeah, well, I was planning to stay. Permanently. So… there’s a lot.”
“Permanently?”
“My boyfriend—ex—got transferred here. After eight months I thought I’d come too—” She swallowed hard, seeming to struggle with the words. “Quit my job. Gave up my apartment— everything. So I guess now I’m here.”
“You moved. For your boyfriend. And he—”
“Yep.” For a second he thought she might cry. Then she flashed a wobbly smile. “Possibly not my finest thinking. Maybe should’ve checked first that my boyfriend was on board with actually being my boyfriend.” Laugh or cry or shut down—he was familiar with those options, knew well the cost of choosing the last. He wanted her to choose differently.
“Not sure that was your responsibility, luv, if you were all in.” He was sure he’d said too much about something that wasn’t his business, and equally sure she was about to tell him so when she took a sharp inhale. He was surprised when she gave his arm another squeeze.
“Thanks for that. For everything, truly.” Her serious expression shifted and she let out a giggle. “I can’t even manage to get a suitcase to stay all in!”
It didn’t seem like much of a joke to Heath.
He tookher through the back garden, making a beeline for the fence that bordered his property and the fields of the abandoned farm it backed up to. That had been one of the appeals when he’d bought the place back in August— only one neighbour.
When they came up alongside the shed, she planted her feet. “What’s this?”
He was so used to the jumble of scrap lumber, the sawhorses, the outdoor workbench with its scatter of tools and shelf of paint and stain and varnish that he didn’t really see it anymore, but the shed had been another of the cottage’s selling points. “My workshop.”
“You build stuff?”
“Yep.”
Her eyes darted from him, to the shed, back towards the house, and then found him again. “Your furniture. The coffee table? You made it?” He really liked the way she said it, like she was in awe or incredulous.
“I did. If it doesn’t have upholstery on it, I made it.”
Her mouth dropped open. She gave his arm a light shove. “You’re really talented.”
People had said stuff like that before, but somehow he liked it better coming from her. Didn’t make it any easier to accept the compliment. “Thanks.”
“Do you just make furniture for yourself, or…”
“Started like that, because I needed something to keep myself busy.” When he was busy, he didn’t think about things he didn’t want to remember, but he wasn’t going to tell Lena that. He kept talking to keep her from asking more questions. “Turns out one bloke only needs so much furniture, so it turned into a job.”
Lena was nodding. “I kind of fell into my job too—”
