Chapter 12
Ethan headed for the peppermint grove, but when he reached the hammock, he couldn’t stop, his brain too busy to relax. Instead he took the path through the public garden, walking slowly, trying to figure out why the sweetest woman he knew didn’t have any friends.
He’d destroyed her confidence, and that was unforgivable. The fact she was even willing to give him a second chance spoke volumes to the kind-hearted person she was. Or maybe she still loved him.
No, he wouldn’t get ahead of himself.
She could simply be lonely and wasn’t that a fucking travesty? She should be surrounded by a solid group of friends who would drop everything to help her, like he had with his teammates.
Instead she had two childhood friends who she hadn’t seen in years.
Not good enough.
He needed to prove to her she was important, worthy. He would ensure Lilydale Cottage was restored to its former glory even if he had to do all the work himself.
He spotted some flattened grass away from the path and frowned. They hadn’t been over there this morning, and it hadn’t been flat yesterday.
Ethan’s eyes followed the trail to the north of the property where the road ran along one side. Someone had come onto the property overnight.
His muscles tensed as he scanned the trail in the other direction leading further into the garden. No one was in sight. He snapped a few photos with his phone and slowly followed the trail, searching for any evidence; a footprint, a cigarette butt, a torn bit of clothing.
He almost tripped on a sprinkler hidden under the grass and it moved easily under his foot. Ethan examined it. Definitely broken. Snapped off at the base, which would have taken more force than just tripping on it.
The path continued and stopped near the kitchen window of the house. His stomach clenched as he spotted Chelsea working at the table inside.
Whoever had come into the garden would have seen her last night.
Was it Darren, annoyed by Ethan’s demand he pay back the money? Or had it been Johann wanting to keep an eye on what Chelsea was up to?
Either way, Ethan didn’t like it. He’d make sure Chelsea pulled the blinds at night and he would monitor the situation tonight.
Uneasy and with his pelvis really aching now, he took Chelsea’s advice and lay on the hammock.
While he lay there, he considered the garden from a defensive point of view. Where would he situate cameras to keep watch?
It was impossible to narrow down the access points because the garden butted up against bushland and the farmland, and anyone could enter from all along the fence line.
So it was a matter of considering the target.
If they wanted to spy on Chelsea, that narrowed the paths they would take around the buildings.
A camera on the barn, a cabin and the gazebo would give a good view of people coming and going.
Honeybrook didn’t have an electronics store, but Pinjarra wasn’t far away and he might be able to pick up a couple there.
It was too late to head there today and if he wasn’t quick, he’d not make it to the grocery store to get ingredients for dinner.
He gingerly got out of the hammock.
It was time he showed Chelsea how important she was.
When he arrived back, Chelsea was still sitting at the kitchen table in front of her laptop, her fingers racing across the keyboard. She glanced up, with a moment of confusion before she recognised him. She smiled and pushed a stray bit of hair out of her eyes.
“Don’t mind me. I’m going to make dinner, if it won’t disturb you.”
Surprise flitted across her face. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He placed the groceries on the kitchen bench and then brushed a kiss against her forehead. “I hope you still like cottage pie.”
Surprise crossed her face. “It’s my favourite.”
“Great. Can I pour you a glass of wine?” He held up two bottles. “Red or white?”
Chelsea shook her head as if she couldn’t quite believe it. “White, please.”
Not good enough. She deserved to be taken care of.
She should expect it. He found two wine glasses and poured the drinks.
When he placed hers on the table next to her, he glanced at her screen.
On it was a Lilydale restoration website showing before and after photos, but in this case, the after photos were what Darren had done to it.
He skimmed the text, which told the story.
Emotive and heart-felt. “That’s amazing, Chels. ”
“It’s not live yet. I need to tweak a few more things. I want to find more before photos. I had some on my phone, but I haven’t gone through Aunt Maggie’s laptop.”
“I might have some.” He grabbed his phone from his pocket and flicked through, finding some he’d taken a couple of years ago when he’d last visited Lilydale. “What’s your number? I’ll text them to you.”
She gave it to him and he sent them.
“Do you want a hand with dinner?” she asked.
“No. I’ve got this. You do what you want.”
She sipped her wine. “All right. I’ll see if I can get this finished before dinner.” By the time he returned to the kitchen, she was back at work, typing fast on her laptop, her focus on the task at hand.
Ethan smiled, loving her concentration, and got to work to provide her sustenance.
When the pie was in the oven, Ethan moved into the living room to do his rehabilitation exercises. The extra time on his feet the past two days had aggravated the ache in his pelvis. Not that he’d admit to it.
But since he’d been here, his drive to return to the army had lessened.
Suddenly he had a new focus. And she was working at the table only a few metres away.
He’d call Dobby later and ask if he was still interested in coming down this weekend. Maybe they could chat about his plans to open a security firm.
When the oven timer rang, he set the table around Chelsea. “How’s it going?”
She typed a few more things and then pressed a button with a flourish. “Done. It’s live.”
“That was quick. I’d love to see it.” He took the pie from the oven and placed it on a pot holder on the table.
“I’ll show you after dinner. That smells fantastic. Where did you learn to cook?”
“The army.” He topped up her wine and added a salad to the table, while she put her laptop on the kitchen bench.
As Ethan sat, he was struck with how comfortable this felt, how right, as if he and Chelsea had been sitting down to dinner together for years.
It felt similar to sitting down to eat with his teammates—like family. He exhaled as a bolt of yearning hit him.
He hadn’t wanted something so much since he was a kid. He couldn’t stuff this up.
“Apart from the website, what else do you want to get done tonight?” He passed Chelsea the salad.
“I’ve created social media accounts on all the main platforms and I want to schedule a bunch of posts so they have content. I’m hoping when Barry comes, he’ll link to them and get them in front of all his followers.”
Ethan pursed his lips. “Barry the lawnmower man has a lot of followers?”
“Millions.” Chelsea grinned at his disbelief. “It’s quite satisfying watching him turn an overgrown mess of a garden into one that is neat and tidy.”
There was something for everyone on the internet. “So what do you hope to achieve by getting a lot of followers?”
“People love a good restoration story and if they follow the journey, they’ll feel a sense of ownership over it.
So hopefully, when they consider where to go on holiday, they’ll think about Lilydale.
If it gets popular enough, I might offer workcations where they stay for free in return for helping in the garden. ”
He shook his head. “People do that?”
“Yeah. And when it’s finished, they’ll want to get married here, or have events here, because it will feel like home.”
Chelsea lit up with enthusiasm as she spoke. Ethan had to hand it to her. She sold it well. Her optimism was surprising considering the way people had let her down in the past, but he loved her glow. “Let me know how I can help.” Perhaps if she achieved her vision, she’d stay here.
He could get out of the army, start a business with Dobby, and live in Honeybrook with her.
“I might need you to do more filming for me.”
It took a second for Ethan to come out of his fantasy. “Sure.”
He’d do anything to help. Anything to make her his again.
After dinner, he cleaned the kitchen while she finished work on the social media platforms. He found the website online, and it looked incredible, with a simple reservation system for the cottages and plenty of photos of the accommodation and the garden in all its states.
There was even a button to donate to the restoration.
By the time he finished reading it, he wanted to support Lilydale and Chelsea’s work—and he already was.
She had a gift of inspiring and enticing people.
Chelsea closed her laptop with a sigh. “I’m done for the day.”
It was almost eight o’clock. “Do you usually work this late?”
She nodded. “When I’m in the middle of a project, I do. There’re never enough hours in the day.”
He moved over to her and slid his hands onto her shoulders, giving them a light massage. Her groan made him hard.
He ignored it and continued to massage the knots in her shoulders. “Chelsea, your muscles are tight. When did you last relax?”
She leaned back into the massage. “Um, what month is it?”
“April.”
“I did a Christmas in July thing with mum last year.”
Ten months ago. No wonder she was so tense. “You should take better care of yourself.”
“Pot, meet kettle.”
He snorted. “I know my limits.” It had become his mantra since the accident.
“So do I.”
He continued to massage gently, and she became limp in the chair.
Finally she sat up. “You’re going to put me to sleep if you keep that up.”
“I’d carry you to bed and tuck you in.”
She stiffened at his words.
Perhaps it was too intimate. He had to be patient. She was still getting used to the idea he had always loved her. He removed his hands and helped her to stand. “Why don’t you take a shower?”