Where the Heart Is

Chapter 31

CHAPTER

31

‘It’s been a while since I’ve had dinner at the pub,’ Jack said, raising his glass. ‘Thanks for inviting me.’

Adelaide raised her wine glass and clinked it against his. ‘It’s the least I can do, shout you dinner after you’re letting me stay in your bungalow rent-free.’

‘Who said it’s free?’

For the second time today, Jack winked, and Adelaide had no idea if her husband was flirting or making a joke.

Her husband … Since when had she started thinking of him in those terms? For years now, she’d labelled Jack as her ex, to herself and anyone else who asked. And after her visit to the lawyer’s office today to make an appointment, she’d taken the first step to make sure the ‘ex’ label became a reality.

But she’d been so flustered after seeing Jack in his element at the Men’s Shed—and that cheeky wink after he’d caught her spying—that she hadn’t told him about making an appointment with Samuel Nobil and invited him out to dinner instead.

She’d been surprised he’d accepted so readily, even more so when he’d knocked on the bungalow door to pick her up and she’d opened it to find him dressed in black pants, burgundy shirt, and polished boots that looked new. He’d never worn anything other than flannelette and jeans in winter, work shorts and singlets in summer. On the rare occasion they went out, he’d grumble about having to wear his one good pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.

It looked like this new and improved Jack extended to his wardrobe too, and she wondered if his better dress sense had something to do with a woman. He’d already told her he’d dated occasionally out of town, but would he tell her the entire truth? She didn’t want to answer questions about Raven, so she shouldn’t expect him to tell her everything despite how badly she wanted to know.

‘What are you thinking about?’

She blinked and refocused, to find Jack staring at her so intensely heat flooded her cheeks. ‘How much I miss my painting. It grounds me.’

He didn’t believe her and to his credit he called her on it. ‘What are you really thinking about?’

‘You,’ she blurted, before she could censor her response. ‘And how much you’ve changed.’

His eyebrows rose but he didn’t say anything, his scrutiny increasingly unnerving.

‘What are you thinking?’ she asked, putting the onus back on him, not sure if she really wanted to know.

After a long pause, he said, ‘I’m thinking how nice this is.’ He shook his head. ‘When I found you on my doorstep a few days ago, I didn’t know what to expect. But this …’ He waved his hand between them. ‘It’s better than I expected.’

‘That’s because you’ve been extremely generous and accepting, rather than angry like I deserve.’

A tiny dent furrowed his brow. ‘I let go of my anger a long time ago. It serves no purpose, other than to give me heartburn.’

Adelaide was so tempted to dig deeper, to ask how he’d coped in those initial months after she fled, but the pub wasn’t the place to have a deep and meaningful conversation, not when they were already drawing curious stares from every patron in the place.

Sensing her discomfiture with being the centre of attention, he leaned forward and lowered his voice. ‘Let them look. Nothing to see here.’ He raised his glass again. ‘Yet.’

She laughed, unsure what he intended to do to shock the gossips but sorely tempted to find out. ‘What did you have in mind?’

He tossed back the rest of his wine in two gulps before placing the glass on the table and holding his hand out to her. ‘I reckon we give them something to really talk about.’

She eyed his hand warily. Was this some kind of joke? Why would the man whose heart she’d broken want to touch her let alone hold her hand?

But the amusement in his eyes reassured her and, before she could second-guess, she placed her hand in his.

‘I don’t bite,’ he said, with a chuckle. ‘Do you trust me?’

She’d once trusted this man enough to abandon a life of luxury and the only home she’d ever known to move to a lentil farm in the Wimmera and marry him. She’d trusted their love would be enduring and get them through anything. She’d trusted in the life they’d built.

But that’s the thing about blind trust. When the blinkers are ripped off, you realise you believed in a fairytale that could never come true.

Quashing the hurt of the past blossoming in her chest, she forced flippancy. ‘Whatever you’re thinking, Jack Hayes, that glint in your eyes tells me I should be worried.’

‘I’d never do anything to hurt you, Ads,’ he murmured, a moment before he lifted her hand to his mouth and did the most shocking thing of all.

Pressed a kiss to the back of it.

A soft, lingering kiss, his lips warm and firm as they brushed the skin just above her knuckles, setting her pulse racing in a way it hadn’t since … the last time he’d touched her, years ago.

Their gazes locked, and she hoped he couldn’t see how badly she wanted him to do it again. And this time, not stop at kissing her hand.