Chapter 10 #2
Chelsea nodded in agreement. “I’ll clean it today ready for the lawnmower man.”
She opened the rest of the windows and made a note to buy some tea and coffee supplies for the kitchen and a couple of candles or air fresheners to rid the rooms of the mustiness.
Then they went to the other two cottages, which were larger, made for families.
They were in a similar condition and would be ready for renting as soon as the garden had been tamed.
She’d take new photos and design a website.
Aunt Maggie had only ever advertised through the council’s site, which listed accommodation.
As they made their way through the garden, Ethan made suggestions. “We’re out of fire season, so we should be able to have a bonfire with all the plant material we cut down.”
“Yeah.” She remembered sitting around a large bonfire, toasting marshmallows when she was younger. It had been a nice reward for all their hard work.
“I can service the equipment when I do Elsie,” Ethan said as they reached the larger shed. It held a four-wheel motorbike, ride-on lawnmower, and other edging and trimming equipment. “Engines might be gummed up from sitting for so long.”
“Thanks.” Engines were not her forte.
They both moved to leave the shed and bumped into each other. Ethan held her arms to steady her as she stumbled, his hands firm. She glanced up at him. “Sorry.”
He stared at her, gaze intense, and her breath caught in her throat.
It was the same expression he’d had before he’d kissed her for the first time.
Her heart rejoiced, but her head shouted no.
She stepped away. He’d broken her heart once.
She wasn’t letting him do it a second time.
They could be friends, but nothing more.
She cleared her throat. “Let’s continue.” She hurried further into the garden.
***
Ethan stared after Chelsea as he willed his heart rate to slow. Holding her in his arms felt so right, but he couldn’t let himself get feelings for her again. He’d be back in the army at the end of the month and heading off to whichever hotspot he was needed in.
All she’d ever wanted was a stable storybook family, with a partner who was always there for her. He couldn’t guarantee that. He wasn’t someone she could rely on every day. He’d never been able to offer her the stability she craved.
Mila’s voice in his head scolded him, telling him he shouldn’t decide for Chelsea. But he was too late. Chelsea didn’t want him now.
He rubbed his chest.
The urge to kiss her had been almost overwhelming.
Her competence and organised brain were such a turn on.
She’d made copious notes as they’d reviewed the garden and had a way of prioritising the tasks.
He wouldn’t be surprised if by the end of the day she had a complete project plan with day-by-day tasks to tick off.
She would have done well in the army.
And the moment back in the house, when she’d told him she was happy for him, made him remember how selfless and giving she was.
Then she’d dismissed what they’d had as a product of their youth and he’d had the crazy urge to argue with her and tell her it hadn’t been, that he still cared for her.
Luckily he had a lot of training in how to keep his mouth shut.
It had hurt a lot more than he wanted it to.
But he only had himself to blame.
With a sigh, he hurried to catch up with the woman who still held a piece of his heart.
By the time they were done, it was mid-morning. He joined her in the kitchen and she put on the kettle, then took a packet of ANZAC biscuits from the cupboard. With an apologetic glance, she put them on the table. “They’re not as good as Aunt Maggie’s.”
“Nothing is as good as Aunt Maggie’s.” He smiled. “But thanks.”
“I’m hoping to find her recipe book somewhere. She taught me how to make a lot of her biscuits, but I don’t remember all of them.”
Another memory hit him of walking into the kitchen when Chelsea was baking.
She’d worn a frilly apron and had flour on her face, and all over the bench.
She might have been making scones. Aunt Maggie had been out on an errand and he’d been tackling the bougainvillea by the gate and was hot, sweaty and frustrated.
Chelsea had smiled at him and told him the scones would be out in a minute and to wash up. It had been such a homely vision, unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Overcome with emotion, he’d pushed her against the bench and kissed her senseless.
He’d wanted her, wanted the family they could build together.
Until he realised he couldn’t join the army and give Chelsea everything she wanted. He couldn’t let her settle for less because of him.
Shaking from the emotion of the memory, he moved to look out the window. How could he still feel so strongly after over a decade?
“Are you all right?” Chelsea asked.
He closed his eyes against the rush of warmth her gentle words gave him. “Fine.” He had to say something that would appease her. “Just thinking about Aunt Maggie’s biscuits,” he lied and turned to face her.
She smiled. “They were pretty amazing.” She slid into a chair. “Do you think it’s foolish of me to restore the garden?”
The uncertainty in her voice surprised him. “No, I don’t. It’s what she would have wanted and what’s right.”
“It’s a huge undertaking.”
“It is.” He sat on the chair opposite her. “But I have no doubt we can do it.” We. The word had such a nice comfort to it. A collaboration, a commitment. Maybe he needed to be committed. He was here for a month, until his superiors were happy he was healed. He needed to remember that.
“Thanks, Ethan.” She reached out and squeezed his hand. “I needed to hear that.”
Her fingers were warm from holding her mug, and they were soft, delicate. The hands of someone who had done no physical work for a while. But he knew she could do it, had seen firsthand how hard she worked when it was required.
The urge to turn his hand up and hold hers was strong, so instead he pulled away. He cleared his throat. “So the next step is cleaning the cabins?”
She nodded. “Aunt Maggie still has cleaning products in the laundry, so I didn’t need to buy anything.”
They had two days before the lawnmower man would be here to tame the grass and then they could tackle the gardens, but there were plenty of buildings which needed sprucing up.
Ethan got to his feet. “Shall we get started?”
He needed some distance from this amazing woman.
***
They’d been cleaning the first cabin for several hours when Chelsea’s phone rang. Glad for a break, she pulled it out and then grinned as she saw the caller’s name. “Hey, Kylie.”
“One minute it’s Aria-shaped panic stations and the next minute you’ve moved across the country and have sixteen acres of land?” The incredulity in her colleague’s tone made Chelsea smile.
“Yeah, it was unexpected for me too.” She explained what had happened and how she wanted to record the restoration of Lilydale. Aside from video editing, Kylie was a documentary film maker and knew how to make the topic she was filming into a story.
“The trick is taking a lot of footage,” Kylie told her. “The more you have, the better the story you can tell when you edit it together. You also need to decide what story you want to tell.”
Chelsea put the phone on speaker and took notes as she spoke.
“Do you have a decent video camera?” Kylie asked.
“Aunt Maggie bought one a couple of years ago, but I don’t know how great it is.”
“If you’re using it for internet promotion, it should be fine.” She sighed. “I kind of wish I could come over and film it myself, but I’m in the middle of a project.”
“I wish you could too.” This was right up Kylie’s alley.
Though she’d done a lot of marketing work to pay the bills, the documentaries she filmed were all related to the way big companies thought they were above the law.
“If you get a chance, you’re always welcome to visit.
There’s plenty of room in the house for guests. ”
She hadn’t spent a lot of time with Kylie, but she enjoyed working with her, and had always figured they would be friends if they could ever make their schedules work together.
“Thanks. I might need a break after I finish filming this documentary.”
Chelsea didn’t ask her what it was, knowing Kylie didn’t like to share what she was working on. She hung up and a minute later, Ethan came out from where he was cleaning the bathroom. “Your friend gave you some good tips.”
“She’s a documentary maker.” It was almost lunch time. “I might go find the video camera. I should record some footage of us cleaning.”
Ethan hesitated. “I can do the filming.” He shrugged. “I can’t be all over the internet.”
It took a second for Chelsea to understand why. “Because you’re Special Forces?”
He nodded.
That made sense. “Then you might need to be chief cameraman.” Or she would buy a tripod and set it up to film her working.
“Happy to be.”
They wandered back to the house to clean up. Funny how she hadn’t even needed to mention they should take a lunch break. He seemed to know instinctively.
Remembered routines of their summer together.
Her heart clenched. Being with him felt incredibly right and natural.
She had to remember he had walked away. His gaze didn’t hold the desire she thought it did. He’d moved on in his life and didn’t need her in it.
Anything else she imagined was wishful thinking.
After they washed up, she went to the linen cupboard to search for the video camera while Ethan got out the makings for sandwiches. The camera was on the top shelf and she couldn’t quite reach it. She jumped and inched it towards herself. She jumped again, but it was still out of reach.
“Let me.” Ethan appeared next to her and reached over her, trapping her between his hard, warm body and the door as he pulled the video camera bag down from the top shelf.
She inhaled deeply as every sense in her body woke up and celebrated. She clenched her hands to stop herself from sliding them around his waist and pulling him closer.
He paused, camera in one hand, his body still pressed against hers, his eyes on her. Awareness flashed over his face. Slowly he lowered his head.
He was going to kiss her.
No, she couldn’t do this. A kiss would kick start her heart and it had no business getting excited here.
It was hard enough keeping the rest of her body under control.
She ducked under his arm and strode back to the kitchen, breathing hard.