Where the Heart Is

Chapter 13

CHAPTER

13

Mila had a theory. There was nothing a good parma at the pub couldn’t fix.

But when she’d forked the last morsel of perfectly fried chicken schnitzel smothered in tomato and cheese into her mouth and emptied her glass of Barossa Valley chardonnay, she still couldn’t shrug the sadness that dogged her.

As if that phone call from Chris hadn’t been bad enough, she should’ve been celebrating her wedding today.

After the ceremony and brief celebration, she’d envisaged sharing a bottle of shiraz with Phil as they did regularly, joking about their nuptials, relaxed in each other’s company. Then later, poring over plans for the third cottage, securing vendors, being able to afford the finishing touches and an online PR company to promote the farm stay because Phil said he’d transfer the money once they were married.

With Phil’s cash injection removed from the equation, she was screwed.

And she wished she hadn’t sold last year’s harvest of lentils to pay the mortgage sixteen weeks ago, effectively removing her safety net.

How many times growing up had Gramps stressed the importance of a safety net? Countless, and she could hear his voice in her head now. ‘Lentils won’t go mouldy, so we can store them for years and wait for the best price. And that price is paramount to a small farm like ours. In our good years, we yield about 2.5 tonnes per hectare, and with the long-term average price around seven hundred dollars, it pays to hold out for that higher range when it gets up to around a thousand bucks per tonne. Never forget that, Mila. Always keep some in storage.’

Now, she had nothing for a rainy day, leaving her in deep trouble. Even if the next crop yielded, it would be too late.

‘I got us lemonades as we’re both driving,’ Sawyer said, placing a jug and two glasses on the table before resuming his seat opposite. ‘You looked deep in thought. Not still lamenting the loss of your groom, are you?’

‘No.’ Though not marrying Phil was part of her problems.‘Thanks for lunch. A parma is just what I needed.’

‘What about the company?’

‘You’ve been alright.’

He saw through her flippancy. She could see it in the astute gleam in those beautiful bluey-green eyes.

‘If you don’t want to be alone, I’m happy to come back to the farm.’

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Are you propositioning me?’

The corners of his mouth kicked up. ‘No. I’d never take advantage of a vulnerable woman.’

‘Who said I’m vulnerable?’

She couldn’t afford to be, not when she had a massive mortgage and a dream to fulfil.

‘This is me you’re talking to.’ He leaned forward a little and rested his forearms on the table. ‘You forget, I’ve seen you at your best and your worst.’

Therein lay the problem, because the way she was feeling—wrung out and a little unsteady—having an old friend, someone who knew her almost as well as she knew herself, be supportive and kind, might undo her completely.

The thought of Sawyer coming back to the farm with her, comforting her, beckoned like the Southern Cross guiding a weary traveller home, but she had to resist. Because if Sawyer held her in the way she yearned to be held, she’d end up making a mistake she’d regret tomorrow. She had enough to worry about without adding ‘sleeping with my brother’s best friend’ to the list.

‘Thanks, but I’ll be fine,’ she said, injecting confidence into her tone. ‘You’ve done enough by meeting me here.’

‘My pleasure.’

They glanced around the bistro that had emptied in the last half hour. But Mila had seen the sideways glances of a few couples who came in after them, and the odd pitying expression—thankfully, no one approached like that busybody Anne had. No matter what Phil had told people, she still came out the loser in this scenario. A jilted bride in a small town provided enough gossip fodder to last a few weeks yet.

‘Actually, do you mind if we call it a day?’ She faked a yawn. ‘I’m beat.’

‘I bet.’ He topped up two glasses with lemonade and held one out to her. ‘But not before we make a toast.’

‘To?’ She accepted the glass with a smile, remembering the time they’d tried to make homemade lemonade and ended up putting so much sugar in it their teeth ached.

He paused for a moment, screwing his eyes up like he was thinking, before a grin crept over his face. ‘To you having better taste in grooms next time.’

‘There won’t be a next time,’ she muttered, before clinking glasses with him. ‘To old friends, who should know when to shut up.’

He laughed and raised the glass to his mouth. ‘I’ll drink to that.’

They finished their lemonade quickly and as Sawyer walked her to her car, his hand in the small of her back, she willed herself not to do something insane, like grab the lapels of his jacket, tug him close, and kiss him senseless.

‘You sure you’ll be okay?’ he asked when they reached her car.

‘I’m sure,’ she murmured, not sure in the slightest.

He leaned forward and Mila could’ve sworn the air between them crackled with electricity. Heck, was he thinking along the same lines she was and wanted to kiss her? Maybe she should’ve popped a mint after her parma or had that choc-mint parfait for dessert.

‘Take care, Gumnut,’ he said, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek before straightening, leaving Mila practically swooning. ‘It’s been really good to see you again.’

Mila managed to mumble, ‘You too,’ before Sawyer ambled away, taking a little piece of her teenage heart with him.