Читать книгу Sunrise at Butterfly Cove: An uplifting romance from bestselling author Sarah Bennett - Sarah Bennett, Sarah Bennett - Страница 14

Daniel chewed thoughtfully on his food—everything in this house tasted amazing. He watched the easy back and forth banter between Mia and the older couple as they ate and discussed the plans for the day, deciding which bedroom they were going to tackle and get ready for Daniel to use. From the conversation, it was clear that the rooms had all been cleared of furnishings and their contents moved to the large barn that nestled next to the garage at the end of the driveway. The plumbing and electrics had been replaced, but other than that the upstairs rooms lay untouched.

He thought about the cosy sitting room that he had slept in the previous night. The sofa had been a pleasant surprise, a huge sprawling L-shape with cushions deep enough he could stretch out his full length across them. The room had been dressed in warm creams and rich browns, with the odd splash of colour from the vibrant paintings on the wall and a few feature items including a tall pewter vase full of rich red poppies. The flowers had been silk, although it had taken a closer examination to verify.

Mia had told him it was intended as a space for her and that there would be a large lounge space for guests next door to what would be the dining room—the room with the impressive sea view.

It had been Richard’s idea apparently to get Mia’s personal spaces sorted out first, to make sure she had some semblance of a home while she worked to bring the rest of the house up to habitable standard. Daniel was glad she had such good friends to support and guide her. It was clear from the open affection they shared that they had adopted Mia and viewed her as something close to a daughter.

The sweet, easy atmosphere around the table twisted his heart, reminding him again how much he missed his own parents, though the laughing couple bore little resemblance to the quiet, steady Fitzwilliamses. Chairs pushed back, saving him from the welling emotions. Everything felt raw, scraped too close to the bone for comfort. He was relieved to be on the move.

Richard led him up to the first floor and ushered him into a large bedroom with bare, stained floorboards and the ugliest wallpaper he had ever seen in his life. Huge, garish orange and yellow roses beamed down from every wall, although there were strips missing where the electrics had been chased out and the wiring and fittings replaced. He grimaced at the blinding display and Richard clapped him on the shoulder. ‘You should’ve seen the carpet that went with it, marmalade orange with a liberal scattering of mildew.’

Following Richard’s instructions and armed with a steamer, scraper and face mask, he got to work whilst the older man entered the adjoining bathroom to tackle the tiling. It would take more than a day to get the room sorted, but Daniel was in no rush. The sofa was comfy enough and a strip-wash at the big sink in the kitchen would suffice if the bathroom wasn’t usable.

Mia appeared, radio in one hand and two bottles of water in the other. She nodded in satisfaction at the progress Daniel was making and dropped a bottle of water at his feet before joining Richard in the bathroom. The strains of the radio and laughter soon drifted through the open door. There was no sign of Madeline, and Daniel wondered what she was up to as he turned his attention back to his task.

It was back-breaking work, and he soon discarded his jumper despite the lack of heating. He steamed, scraped and cursed his way down the wall and around the corner, piles of discarded wallpaper curling in his wake. His muscles ached a little from lack of use and his back would be a wall of pain later from all the bending and stretching, but Daniel didn’t care. He had a definable task, a purpose for the next few hours, and that was just what he needed. The aches and pains would be a badge of honour for the efforts he put in this day.

Madeline showed up, a spotted cloth twisted around her head, keeping her hair off her face. There was a smudge of dirt on her cheek. She grinned and patted Daniel affectionately on the bottom after handing him a cup of tea. ‘Aren’t you doing a grand job, sweet boy? Take a break and enjoy your tea and I’ll have a bit of a tidy through,’ she said. Settling his hip against the windowsill with a happy sigh, he watched her stuff the rubbish into a black bag and let her soothing chatter wash over him.

She headed downstairs with the bulging bag, reappearing shortly after with two more mugs of tea, which she took into the bathroom. Cries of welcome from Richard and Mia echoed from the small room. Daniel listened to the banter and teasing and wondered when the last time was that he had felt comfortable enough around people to let his guard down like that.

It wasn’t that everyone he’d met in London was a shark or a phony; he had a couple of good friends who weren’t part of the art crowd, although thinking back it had been a few months since he’d spent anything like quality time with Aaron. His best friend had never been a fan of Giselle and the crowd she hung around with. As he’d been drawn further into her circle of wannabes and sycophants, he’d seen less and less of Aaron.

He’d tried to warn him about the rumours circulating about his party lifestyle, but Daniel had been in no mood to listen. Giselle had dripped poison in his ear, dismissing Aaron as too provincial, whispering he was just jealous of his success. And he’d let her feed his ego, drive a wedge between the two men. Isolated from the steady voice of reason, he’d been easy prey. Daniel sighed and tugged his face mask back into position. Better add another name to the list of apologies owed.

***

It was late afternoon by the time Mia waved Richard and Madeline off and she pressed her hands into her lower back to try and ease the stiffness in her muscles a little. She eyed the claw-footed tub in the corner of the bathroom and decided that a soak rather than the quick shower she’d originally planned on was called for.

After the initial tense start, things had smoothed out between her and Madeline. The right moment for her intended talk with her friend never materialised and she’d decided to let it go. There had been no malice in her actions, and Mia had to admit having someone else in the house had given new impetus to her plans. Only a week. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a good idea to help her ease into sharing the place with other people. She’d be a poor guest house owner if she didn’t get used to having company around her.

It had taken some persuasion, but Mia had convinced Richard and Madeline that they should take a couple of days to themselves. She was so grateful for the time and energy that they gave her, but she still worried that she was taking advantage of their good natures. They weren’t getting any younger and the tiling in the bathroom had been such a painful, painstaking job it had taken a lot out of her. Her friends were so dynamic and vibrant; it was easy to forget the thirty-year age gap between her and them.

She wandered into the dining room, wanting to catch a last glimpse of the ocean before the sun disappeared. Night fell so early during the dreary winter months. Madeline had been busy and the large windows sparkled inside and out, making the shabbiness of the patio and the garden beyond even harder to ignore.

Mia shrugged; it was too early in the year and the weather too cold and unpredictable to even contemplate tackling the outside work. Only the rare warmth of the winter sun that day had allowed Madeline to get outside long enough to wash down the windows but even then, Mia had found her half blue and hugging the Aga when she’d come down that afternoon to get more tea.

It would take at least another day for the sealant around the bathroom tiles to properly set and although the bedroom walls were finally free of paper, there was a lot of sanding and patching to do before the walls Daniel had uncovered were ready for painting.

That was his self-appointed task for tomorrow while she tackled the woodwork in the bathroom. The bathroom tiles were neutral enough they would go with anything and now the suite was going to be used by a man, Mia was beginning to rethink the colour scheme she had in mind. She’d always pictured her guests as couples or single, older women and had planned the decorations accordingly. Her notes and the colour charts were in the kitchen; she would fetch them and give it some more thought whilst she had her bath.

She froze on the threshold. Daniel stood at the kitchen sink, a soft pair of cotton pyjama bottoms on, the matching T-shirt draped over the back of a chair. She watched in fascination as he tested the water in the sink then bent further forward, groaning a little as the movement stretched his lower back. She winced in sympathy. If his back was tight as hers it would be uncomfortable to lean so far forward, and he was a lot taller besides.

Maybe she should have offered him the use of a proper bathroom, but that would mean letting him into her little sanctuary on the second floor. He was too big, too masculine. She didn’t want any man other than Jamie in her personal space, and that would never be possible again.

He dunked his head under the water, rubbed shampoo into his scruffy hair then dipped back down to rinse it clean. He groped blindly for the towel next to the sink and scrubbed vigorously at his hair. The movement sent the muscles down his sides rippling and she spun away, knowing she shouldn’t be spying on him. She moved too quickly, bumping into the door frame with a resounding thump.

‘Everything all right?’

Caught red-handed, and red-faced, Mia had no option other than to face the music. ‘I’m sorry, I just came for my books,’ she muttered. With a quick scurry across the room, she scooped them up and then turned tail and ran from the room.

Embarrassment and other things she didn’t want to think about lent wings to her feet and she slammed the door to the upper levels closed with a resolute bang and a sharp snick of the key.

Mia rushed to her third-floor hideaway and closed the door behind her, leaning against it as she tried to catch her breath. How ridiculous to react in such a flighty, adolescent manner at the sight of a man’s bare back. It had just been so unexpected and other than in films or on the TV, the only man she had seen stripped to the waist had been her husband.

Daniel was taller and broader through the shoulders than Jamie had been—his skin a deep tan where Jamie had been pale thanks to his sandy-haired, blue-eyed Scottish heritage. Not that she was going to start comparing the two men; Daniel was a temporary fixture in her life who would be gone in just a few days and the sight of his skin may have caused a few long-dormant hormones to stir briefly, but it was purely a biological reaction.

She ran her bath, adding a large dollop of muscle soak to the water, and flicked through the paint charts. The original plan for the room had been a warm, sunny yellow but now Mia wasn’t convinced. She scanned the charts and paused on a soft, moss green and tapped the card thoughtfully.

Sliding into the hot water with a grateful sigh she sank down until the bubbles reached her chin. Flicking through the colours, she pictured various combinations in her mind’s eye, trying to find the perfect match for each room in her planner. Her thoughts drifted next to the stacks of furniture out in the barn. She wanted to use whatever she could salvage from the original pieces that had been left in the house when she bought it.

Some had been beyond rescue and they had gone straight to the tip, but there was an oak bedframe and matching dresser that could be brought back to life with a generous amount of beeswax and some serious elbow grease. There was also a heavy wardrobe that didn’t quite match, but might be brought into the grouping with the help of the right wood stain.

Mia dropped the charts on the mat next to the tub and closed her eyes as she rested her head back against the rolled edge of the bath. She let the warm water and her imagination conjure up the perfect room. If the colours she pictured matched a certain pair of stormy-green eyes, she didn’t let her conscious self acknowledge it.