Lime Tree Hill (A Reluctant Kiss #1)

17. Lime Tree Hill

17

LIME TREE HILL

It was just before eleven when they arrived at Lime Tree Hill. As Tim and Luka pulled away from the packing shed that was now her home, Tayla stood in the middle of the drive and watched the taillights fade to black. She had to stop herself from picking up her skirt, sprinting through the tree rows, up the veranda steps of her family home, and locking the door against the world. And her new role as Mrs. Harrington.

“Coming inside?” Mitch asked.

She studied the flowers in her hand: blush roses, stock, and cosmos, coiled between flamboyant branches of goodness knows what, and tied up with string. “I want to visit Norman’s grave. To lay my flowers.”

“What, now? I’m not too keen on cemeteries at night.”

“No, tomorrow. Will you come with me? I’m not too keen on cemeteries period.”

“Sure.” He unlocked the door. “Tim dropped off your things earlier. I put them in your room.”

“Thank you.” Tayla followed him up a narrow flight of stairs, the skirt of her gown rustling with every step. Ever since her return from Sydney, she’d tried to imagine how this man lived—how he spent his evenings above the packing shed. Was there endless dust and noise from the operation below, or would his home be like any other?

Once upstairs, she relaxed. The interior came alive under industrial lights—and reminiscent of a European train station, a large vintage-looking clock hung from the ceiling, ticking away unsteady minutes.

“Wow, it’s much bigger than I imagined.”

“Yeah, it takes up a third of the shed’s length.” Mitch put his keys on the kitchen island and took the bouquet from her hands. He grabbed a vase from the cabinet under the kitchen sink, placed the blooms inside, and filled it with water.

“The bedrooms are this way.” He cocked his head toward a short hallway.

Once again, she followed him with reluctance, the swish of her skirt reminding her why she was here with a man she’d once resented with a passion.

“This is my room.”

Tayla peeked through the doorway. His bed was enormous but neatly made, with a navy linen duvet and pillows in various shades of dusky blue. Above the bed, a string of light bulbs twisted around a wooden support beam, and from a basket by the balcony door, Mr. Edward watched them with one uninterested eye.

“Does Edward sleep with you?”

“Not normally. I’ll shift him to the office before we go to bed. It’s off the living area.” Mitch opened an adjacent door and motioned for her to enter. With a charcoal feature wall and a similar string of lights, this room mirrored his. A rust-colored duvet covered the bed, and on the floor, a flokati rug grounded the space.

“This is lovely, thank you.”

Mitch nodded. Frowned. “I want to say something.”

She waited. His tone suggested they were about to have a heart-to-heart. She had a sudden thought he might want to sleep with her.

“You’ll always be safe here, Tayla.”

She held his gaze for a second. Her new husband knew the score. Knew she didn’t feel safe around him. Not because she feared for her physical wellbeing, but because she feared for her heart. A heart that, until recently, had belonged to another. “Thank you.”

“It’s just… Sometimes I question your impression of me. I know we had our differences in the past, but we’re both adults now and while we’re living together, I hope we can get along without too much drama.”

Differences was not how she’d describe what went down after Norman died. To her, it was more like an inquisition, but each to their own. “Of course. I’m sure we’ll make it work. And I appreciate what you’ve done for my parents.” She fiddled with her ring finger. “And thanks for the ring. It’s stunning.”

“You’re welcome.” He shifted his stance. “The bathroom’s across the hall. I have an en suite, so please make yourself at home.”

“Thanks.”

“Right.” He went to say something more then stopped. Was he about to invite her to his room after all? “There is one small problem.” Tayla waited for him to continue. “My housekeeper, Valentina, comes in after school once or twice a week. She knows to be discreet, but it might be better if we share a bed. Looks more legit that way.”

“You want me to sleep with you? In your bed?”

“That’s what married people do. They sleep together.”

She stared at him in disbelief. “Not this married person. That wasn’t part of our arrangement.”

Mitch studied her for a moment, a knowing half-smile coming into play. The kind of smile she’d no doubt remember as she lay in bed later. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. It could complicate things.” He turned to walk away then paused. “Still, you know where to find me if you change your mind.”

Tayla shut the door behind him and flopped backward onto the bed. No way! She lay there for a while, struggling to muster the energy to undress as his invitation played on loop in her head. She shivered at the thought of sleeping with him. Although she liked to sleep naked, she wouldn’t be doing so under Mitchel Harrington’s roof. Sharing his space reminded her of having a sleepover at a friend’s house, one who wasn’t really a friend.

Finally forcing herself to move, she crossed the room and opened the closet door. It was full of hangers, and on the top shelf, two spare pillows and a blanket. But there was something else. A surfboard decorated with a large blush pink ribbon rested against the mirror, and next to it, a full-length wetsuit in two-tone charcoal and teal blue. She pulled the wetsuit off the rail and held it up for size, then sat on the bed—the smell of the neoprene tickling her nostrils as she marveled at her new husband’s thoughtfulness and wished she’d got something for him as well.

Happy wedding day.

Tayla admired her ring, a diamond-studded Russian wedding band that sparkled under the lights above. A perfect mix of function and charm, the ring of three interlocking bands—symbolizing the past, present, and future—was so very different from the one Hayden had picked for her.

Hayden. He’d been in her thoughts most days since she’d returned from Sydney, but today, not so much. Time must be doing its thing. She removed the ring and placed it on the nightstand. To her surprise, her left hand felt naked without it.

Tayla pulled her phone from her bag and unlocked it, her fingers immediately connecting with the keys.

Tayla: I’m sorry.

Mum: What are you doing still awake? And why are you sorry ?

Tayla almost dropped her phone. She hadn’t expected her mother to answer. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she closed her eyes briefly, the weight of regret heavy on her chest as she recalled her father’s tearful reaction when they told him the news. He’d insisted they were tears of joy, but that made the lie even worse.

Tayla: I eloped.

Mum: Yes, we know darling. Isn’t FaceTime marvelous? How was your meal at Little Brown Barn?

Tayla: Delicious. That place is top class. But I was nervous, so I overate.

Mum: Nervous?

Tayla: It’s not every day you elope.

Mum: Of course. But don’t be sorry. We always thought you’d take the unconventional route. Anyway, we’ll talk tomorrow. Goodnight Mrs. Harrington. Say hi to your new husband.

Tayla: Goodnight. Love you both xx

Weary to the bone, she lay back on the bed and wondered if her husband was still awake. She thought back to the kiss on the rocks and how much she’d enjoyed it. The kiss that sealed the deal and wouldn’t leave her lips.