Chapter 8 #2
Pleasure pinked his cheeks, and he grinned. “You’re very welcome. It’s been a day of firsts, that’s for sure. I meant to ask how it all works, the three piles, I mean. It’s a system, right?”
I nodded. “The first pile, the one you landed in, contains the most recent raw material—manure, food scraps, vegetation, and so on. As the heat builds with decomposition, I keep adding to it until I have a big enough mound. Then I start turning it over at intervals until it eventually becomes this rich black soil—gardener’s crack.
” I winked. “The second pile is halfway to being ready and still being turned. The last one is ready to be spread around my garden, after which I’ll start that pile all over again. ”
Thaddeus’s brow wrinkled as his brain chewed over the information. It was pretty damn cute. “That seems kind of random,” he concluded. “You just guess when it’s ready?”
I smiled. “No. I know when it is.”
His eyes narrowed. “How? Do you run a soil test? Or is there a colour you look for? Do you keep a chart with dates and stuff? How do you optimise production?”
I blinked. “It’s rot, Thaddeus, not rocket science. You wait, and you know. That’s it.”
“But how do you know?” He frowned and raised his hands. “Sorry, but I can’t help it. I see a process and I want to make it better. It’s what I do.”
I bit my lip, trying not to laugh. “And I appreciate your concern, but I’ve been making compost for twenty years. Trust me. I’ve got this.”
“Of course. Sorry.” He looked at his hands, which were still in the air. “You know I can’t remember the last time I had dirt under my nails, let alone animal shit.” He paused, rolling his eyes. “Oh no, that’s right. It was last night. I’m definitely gonna need therapy.”
I took his hands and studied the impressive array of chipped and broken nails. “It’s a dangerous business stepping away from your computer screen, Thaddeus Grey. If you don’t keep your feet, there’s no knowing what you might find yourself doing.”
Thaddeus narrowed his eyes. “Are you quoting Bilbo at me?”
I grinned back at him. “Paraphrasing, actually. Why? Is that too nerdy for a landscaper?”
He gave me a side-eye. “Like I’m gonna fall into that trap. But I can see I have to keep an eye on you.”
“You do that.” The words were out before I could check myself, and yep, we were flirting again. I schooled my expression, adding, “For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you getting those lily-white hands dirty communing with the soil.”
He laughed. “Well, that makes one of us. I’ll send you the manicurist bill. Now get into that shower before whatever it is you’ve been rolling in today, puts me off my dinner.”
An hour later, with a belly full of ginger chicken stir-fry and rice, I handed Thaddeus a beer and herded him out of the kitchen and onto the deck, leaving me to clean up.
It didn’t take long since he’d done most of the prep dishes beforehand.
Standing at the sink and wiping it down for the last time, I saw him sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs, watching the orange sunset fade behind the forest canopy.
I stopped what I was doing and just observed him for a moment.
He looked a lot younger than his twenty-nine years, his expression open and unguarded for perhaps the first time since we’d met.
Wearing my old baggy clothes, he still managed to look chic and put together, like he’d spent an hour at the mirror perfecting that slightly rumpled look.
Some guys were like that.
Not me.
The only time I’d ever looked chic was the day I’d given my youngest sister away at her wedding, and that was because she’d paid someone to dress and badger all of the bridal party into some semblance of style.
Most of the time, I looked like someone had thrown me in a pile of topsoil and then buried me in concrete dust for good measure.
Not that I wasn’t happy with my obvious lack of panache, but in Thaddeus’s company, I felt acutely aware of it for the first time since James had left.
Then again, anyone short of Calvin Klein himself would have felt plain standing next to James.
As obsessive as he was about his looks, I was never sure what he’d seen in me.
And here I was again. A gorgeous guy on my deck and me feeling the scruff pit that I was. Some things never changed.
Before I could look away, Thaddeus turned and caught me staring . . . again.
He beckoned me with his hand. “Get out here before you miss the final act.”
I grabbed a beer and joined him on the deck, pulling a second chair close to his. I sank into the cushions and crossed my legs out in front. “Cheers.” I held up my bottle, and Thaddeus tapped it with his. “That was an awesome meal, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He returned to staring at the sky.
I shifted a little onto one hip, the new angle affording me a better view of both Thaddeus and the sunset.
He was slouched low in his chair, arms to the side, his beer bottle hanging from his fingers.
His legs rested apart, loose-limbed and relaxed.
The tips of his hair burned a fiery orange, his tawny eyes a deep umber in the reflected glow.
He turned toward me, that same tousled lock of hair falling back over his eyes. “It’s so pretty.”
Yes, you are. It took all my will not to say the actual words, settling for, “It is, isn’t it? This is my favourite time of day and my favourite thing to do, if the weather’s right.”
Thaddeus’s gaze lingered a beat too long before he sank back in his chair and tipped his face back up to the slowly shadowing sky. “Yeah, I’m not sure I’d get anything done if I had this to look at every evening.”
I chuckled. “Tell me about it. But there are also plenty of evenings when sitting out here is the last thing you want to do. All that green out there needs a ton of rain to keep looking good.”
Thaddeus considered the tree line, and a slow smile spread over his face. “To have all this, I think I could live with that.”
I raised a brow. “Mud, Thaddeus. In this place, rain means mud . . . everywhere.”
His smile dissolved. “Oh.”
I snorted. “Oh, indeed.”
The deck fell silent as the last remnants of the sunset sank into the shadows.
A morepork called from somewhere to my right.
Thaddeus tracked the sound with his eyes but didn’t ask.
Ziggy appeared from nowhere and walked to the steps, surveying the dark garden for intruders.
Satisfied, he trotted over and jumped on my lap.
Thaddeus watched Ziggy circle a few times before settling, then asked, “How old is he?”
I ran a hand down Ziggy’s long back, and he wriggled in delight. “Seven. We got him as a pup.”
Thaddeus’s eyes flashed to mine. “We?”
I smiled at his curiosity. “Yes, we. He was actually James’s dog. James always wanted a miniature dachshund.”
“But not you?” Thaddeus pressed, clearly eager for more information about my ex.
When I rolled my eyes, he shrugged. “Come on. I cooked dinner. That deserves at least the highlights . . . or lowlights, as the case may be. I’m tired of my own sad, tragic story, which you happen to know, by the way. Humour me a little.”
I stared at the blackening landscape for a moment, then swung my chair around to better face him. “Fine. James Carnegie Lomas was his name.”
Thaddeus blinked. “Wow. And I thought my name was a mouthful.”
“Indeed.” I suppressed a smile and began picking at the label on my bottle as I talked. “James Lomas. Model-worthy looks, life of the party, funny, and with an up-and-coming business as a virtual personal assistant to some famous-in-New Zealand clients.”
Thaddeus pulled a face. “I hate him already. What is a virtual PA?”
I chuckled. “He worked via his computer rather than in person and did a lot of behind-the-scenes organising involving travel and accommodation, any bookings the person might need, welcome hampers in hotels, and all that stuff. It was cheaper for his clients than employing a full-time PA. Some have both. And don’t hate him.
He was a nice guy, if a little self-involved—no, make that a lot self-involved.
” I hesitated. “And, similar to your experience, he apparently wasn’t as into me as I was him. ”
“His loss,” Thaddeus sympathised. “But I notice you spoke of his job in the past. What happened?”
I hesitated. Am I really going to do this? I guess I am. “James and I had been dating a little over a year when the opportunity to purchase the lease on the cottage came up. We’d been talking about moving in together for a while, even marriage at some point down the track, the whole shebang.”
“Sounds serious.”
I nodded. “I thought it was. And initially, James was fully behind my dreams for this place, including the decision to start my own landscaping business. Up until then, I’d been working for somebody else.
But I don’t think he truly understood the long hours I’d need to put in—six days a week and ten to twelve-hour days.
Or the seclusion and loneliness of living up here.
Our social lives shrank to almost nothing, and James began spending more and more time jetting all over New Zealand to meet with his clients.
On the other hand, I loved the isolation here.
I’d found my happy place, and I had no desire to move. ”
“Shocker.” Thaddeus tipped his beer bottle my way, and I gave a snort of amusement.
“True. But I knew James was unhappy,” I admitted. “I just didn’t want to deal with it. I kept hoping he’d come around.”
Thaddeus’s expression grew serious. “He didn’t, I take it?”
“No, he did not.” I spun the bottle in my hand.
“James never talked much about his feelings. It made him uncomfortable. He was gregarious but not reflective, if you get what I mean. Anyhow, one day I came home to find he’d simply packed up and gone.
There was a note on the table to say he’d accepted a full-time PA role with a rising Scandinavian pop star and was moving to Sweden. ”