Where the Heart Is

Chapter 40

CHAPTER

40

Adelaide closed the bungalow door behind Mila and leaned against it.

What the hell had happened before her granddaughter had arrived for an impromptu visit?

One minute she’d been intent on thanking Jack for his thoughtfulness with the easel and paints, the next she’d been groping him.

And the rest.

She’d never been an overly sexual person but with Jack and those kisses … she hadn’t been so turned on in all her life. At her age, the occasional sex she had with Raven was more about intimacy than the physical act. Truth be told, she enjoyed the snuggling afterwards a hell of a lot more than the actual mechanics. But with Jack kissing her, his damp skin beneath her exploring hands, his erection pressing into her … she’d been obsessed with taking it all the way, the two of them naked, skin to skin.

At least they’d had a chance to talk about it, but if Mila hadn’t shown up when she did, who knows what might’ve happened? Because the way she’d been feeling, Adelaide would’ve happily insisted they move their discussion into the bedroom.

Back home, when she was this rattled, she’d paint. And now, thanks to Jack, she could.

Taking a deep breath and blowing it out, she pushed off the door and crossed the room. Just staring at the blank canvas evoked peace, and after changing into the oldest shirt she’d brought with her, she picked up the piece of wood serving as a palette and squeezed blobs of paint onto it. Even the squelch of paint out of the tube comforted her and by the time she picked up her brush, she knew what she’d paint.

A calming mix of blues and greens slashed across the canvas with broad strokes became more precise as the picture she imagined in her head came to life. She lost track of time through the repetition of movement—dab, sweep, swirl—grateful for the escape her art provided. It always did and she should thank Jack again for the gift he’d given her.

Though this time, with less mauling.

Adelaide had no idea if she’d been painting for thirty minutes or three hours when she heard a knock at the door. She blinked and swiped a hand across eyes, laying the paintbrush and makeshift palette down, before crossing the studio to open the door.

Her heart rate instantly sped up.

‘Hey, Jack. What brings you by?’

She managed to sound saucy and annoyed at the same time, and he reacted accordingly with a slight frown. So she still confused the heck out of him. That much hadn’t changed.

‘I’m throwing some pasta together; thought you might like some?’

‘What’s the time?’

‘Almost six.’

‘Wow, I didn’t know I’d been painting that long.’ Now she’d stopped, her neck muscles cramped and the spot between her shoulder blades ached, indicating she’d been at it for hours. ‘Do you want to come in while I wash up?’

‘Sure.’

He smiled and she swore her world tipped on its axis.

So much for painting relaxing her. In an instant she remembered the heat between them in his kitchen and what might’ve happened if one of them—him—hadn’t come to their senses. Sharing dinner in that very kitchen so soon after what they’d done was asking for trouble.

Though would it be so bad? Technically, Jack was still her husband. And she only had a casual thing with Raven; they were both free to see other people.

But Adelaide wasn’t a complete fool, and she knew having sex with Jack would change the dynamic between them. Not to mention make securing a divorce a tad more complicated.

‘Are you going to let me in?’ He cocked an eyebrow, and she gave a nervous laugh as she stepped back.

‘Sorry. I’m always in a daze when I paint, and it takes me a while to come out of it.’

‘I can leave you to it and see you at the house?’

‘No, no, come in.’

As he entered, and she caught a whiff of his subtle soap combined with pure Jack, she gritted her teeth against the urge to bury her nose in the crook of his neck and inhale.

‘I’ll just rinse off the stuff I’ve been using and get changed.’

Rather than taking a seat on a chair, he strolled alongside her to the easel and dread crept through her. He’d never shown any interest in her art when they were married, and by a few offhand comments she’d assumed he deemed it frivolous and a time suck, which is why she’d eventually stopped sketching too.

Her art channelled her vulnerability, something that drew buyers to part with decent amounts of cash to acquire one of her paintings these days. She’d had several people say they loved the rawness of her work, the emotion behind it, and that was the highest compliment they could’ve paid her.

Now, she held her breath as Jack stood alongside her, hoping he wouldn’t tear down the camaraderie they’d rebuilt with an illmeaning critique.

She’d painted a beautiful cove at Tally Bay, the view from her favourite lookout. Craggy cliffs tumbling down to serene aquamarine waters bracketed by a white sandy beach. From a critical perspective, it wasn’t her best work, but it definitely reflected her love for the spot. She could almost feel the sun on her face as she looked at it.

Jack’s silence spoke volumes. He didn’t like it. But when she snuck a glance at him, what she saw surprised her.

Sadness.

‘Jack?’ She tentatively touched his arm, and he tore his gaze away from the painting.

‘You’re good,’ he said, his smile forced. ‘I had no idea you were so talented.’

‘I’ve been painting for the last fourteen years. It’s how I make the bulk of my living.’

‘I think that’s incredible. It’s special, being able to earn a decent wage from doing something you love.’

Was that what it had been like for him and the farm? Though from memory, every cent he’d earned had been a struggle and she’d resented his love for the farm over her.

‘Thanks. That’s what I think too.’

He pointed at the painting. ‘Is this home for you?’

She nodded. ‘The view from my favourite lookout at Tally Bay.’

‘You must miss it.’ His tone took on a hardened edge. ‘I bet you can’t wait to get back.’

So that’s what his reticence was about. He thought she’d painted this because she couldn’t wait to leave. That would’ve been true last week, but now … Ashe Ridge held attractions she’d forgotten.

‘I’m enjoying my time here,’ she said. ‘I’m in no hurry to return.’

Jack got the message loud and clear, because he took a step back, as if fearing she’d jump his bones again. ‘I’ll get that pasta started,’ he mumbled. ‘Just come across when you’re ready.’

By the speed he bolted out the door, he understood why she was enjoying her time in Ashe Ridge.

So what was he going to do about it?