Free The Glass Knot-mmf by Lily Harlem Page B

color with long handles. A bottle green, giant-sized, new
electric-style Aga was set into the wall. A huge lead-paned window looked out
onto a garden, and below the windowpane was yet another sink. Bottles of oils,
plain and some stuffed with chili peppers and glossy round fruit I couldn’t
name, stood on the counter along with the usual kettle and toaster and three
large ceramic pots printed with, Tea, Coffee, Sugar.
    “What
would you like to drink?” Nick asked, reaching for the kettle and filling it
from the tap beneath the windowsill.
    A
big glass of something very alcoholic would have suited me, but since that
didn’t seem to be on the cards I said, “Tea would be lovely, white, no sugar.”
    I
stared openly at him as he waited for the kettle to fill, glad of the moment of
loud running water and not needing conversation. He’d had his hair cut since I’d
seen him last. It was much shorter and the dark hair between skull and neck
tapered, in two neat parallel rows either side of his nape. I liked the style,
it was innately masculine. The few licks of gray just behind his temple and
above his ears were, I discovered, quite appealing. They kind of said, to my
vivid mind at least, “I’ve lived, I’ve experienced. I’ve had years and years of
sex”.
    My
gaze floated down farther. He wore a black t-shirt that stretched over his wide
shoulders then hugged his lean back before settling over the waistband of dark
denim jeans. His butt, as when I’d perused its outline last time, was high and
small, making his legs look all the longer.
    He
stepped to the side and flicked the switch on the kettle.
    I
locked my fingers together and shifted from one foot to the other. “Is, er,
Josh here?”
    He
turned, folded his arms over his chest and rested his butt against the counter.
“He was expecting to be. But he just called and said they’d been sent out to a
large field fire ten minutes before the end of shift. He’ll be another hour or
so. They’ll have to wait to be relieved as I doubt they’ll have it tackled
before dark.”
    “Oh
dear.” An image of Josh kitted up in his work gear popped into my head; helmet
and visor, thick gloves, big clumping boots. That delicious body protected from
the heat by strong material as he aimed his hose at the roaring flames. I could
imagine him calling out orders, being brave and in control, his face a picture
of concentration, sweat collecting between his shoulder blades.
    Get
a grip, Laura.
    “I
have dinner in the slow-oven,” Nick said, reaching two mugs from a cupboard.
“But if it’s okay with you we’ll wait until he gets in. I hate to eat dinner
without him.”
    “Of
course, yes, that’s fine. I’m not that hungry right now.” Not to mention I
couldn’t think of anything more excruciatingly uncomfortable than sitting
eating a meal with just Nick. He seemed to be buzzing with tension, his
movements stiff and deliberate. Not like when I’d seen him in Spain. He’d been
much more relaxed then, despite the way the evening was planned to go.
    What
has made him so uptight, so fractious, here, in his lovely home?
    Me?
    “There
you go,” he said, handing me a mug of steaming tea.
    “Thanks.”
    He
took a sip of his own and set it on the counter. I racked my brain for
something intelligent to say. I wanted to speak about Josh but couldn’t think
of anything that wouldn’t relate back to the night of passion we’d shared. I
had no clue what Josh had told Nick the next day. It could be all or nothing.
    A
large wall clock ticked, and a blackbird outside cried a warning, a passing cat
perhaps. I placed my mug down on the island and wondered where a black hole was
when I needed one to swallow me up.
    “Would
you like a tour of the house?” Nick asked.
    I
grinned, overwhelmingly relieved there’d been a break in the hard silence. “Oh,
yes please, as long as I’m not interrupting you from anything.”
    “No,
I made sure I was up to date with work. Josh wanted you to