Chapter 10 #2
“C’mon, let’s go and see the center of operations. We can introduce Everly to her first cow.”
It doesn’t take long for my enjoyment to return as we make our way along the lane, taking the footpath that cuts into the field, passing by one of the Aberdeen Angus herds, all of whom are nosy enough to come and say hello.
Everly’s still asleep so she doesn’t get to experience them all sniffing and snorting loudly, jumping back skittishly like overgrown puppies when I try to scratch their necks.
The best moment of the morning is when one of them pops his head through a gap in the hedgerow and licks Haven’s hand. She jumps back with a squeal before breaking out into raucous laughter while she tries to wipe the slobber onto her jeans.
I haven’t heard her laugh much since she arrived.
I remember it being particularly lovely—a full, deep, and infectious belly laugh that always set me off laughing too. As we continue down the path, and our laughter fades, I decide that perhaps we both need a good laugh and a touch of happiness.
She’s still grinning widely when we reach the entrance gates to the farmyard.
We arrive late in the morning, when all the daily cleaning takes place after the animals are fed, and it’s busy.
Three stable lads pass by with wheelbarrows full of manure from mucking out the stables, a couple of the grooms stand by the taps filling bucket after bucket with fresh water, passing them over with a slosh to whoever’s waiting.
In the corner, one of the estate horses is being shampooed, watched over by the rooster making his rounds.
It’s not as pristine as it usually is, and on top of the daily comings and goings, the hay delivery has just arrived. The air is heavy with dust particles, causing everyone to sneeze.
But nevertheless, I proudly sweep my hand in front of us. “Welcome to Burlington Estates.”
I watch as Haven takes it all in—from the guys hosing down the bales to the ones heaving the thirty-kilo bags of feed over their shoulders on the way down to the cow barn, followed closely by Dolly. And when she turns back to me, her expression is slightly disbelieving.
“This is where you work?”
I nod. “I do. Along with the rest of the staff responsible for keeping the wheels turning.”
“How many people are here?”
“Close to one hundred are based in the yard.” I point over to the main barn, with the big clock on the roof and the weathervane on top rocking ever so slightly from the light wind.
“In there are the offices where I’m based, along with Burlington’s head of operations and his senior staff.
They’re responsible for everything from running the main house—Burlington Hall—along with Valentine Nook—repairs . . . things like that.”
Even though I’m here every day, I know how impressive it is to anyone seeing it for the first time, and it’s purposeful. But one look at Haven’s face, and my chest swells.
“But what do you do exactly?”
“We buy land. Lando looks after everything around the estate, while I lead everything abroad. Our aim is to focus on sustainability. All our developments are built with the natural environment in mind.”
She steps back, and her arms cross over her chest. “Is that what you’d have done with Wylder Ranch? Develop it?”
Her chin hardens and juts, and her expression turns stony. She’s seeing me as a developer, the type that has Aspen covered in construction boards while the next mega cabin is built for another billionaire. I get why she’s pissed off, but I shake my head.
“No. I saw it was for sale, and I knew something wasn’t right.
I remember how hard you worked to keep it.
I remember that it was your parents’ place.
” I shrug and keep my tone as casual as possible.
“I figured if I bought it, it would stop developers from snapping it up and slapping half a dozen hotels on it.”
“One hundred million to do nothing with it?”
I’m holding her gaze when I respond, “Best hundred million I’d have ever spent.”
Her mouth rolls, and she stays silent. I can’t tell if she believes me, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to prove it to her. But Hendricks’s words echo around me once more.
Haven needs support, not me trying to pick up where we left off. Even if we do have a baby now and I have to figure out how we can stay together.
Not wanting to dwell on the suspicious glare still aimed my way, I guide us through the yard, greeting everyone we pass until we reach the huge archway that leads down to the cow barn. I almost turn around when I spot who’s at the end leaning over one of the stalls, but then decide better of it.
“Hello—” I call out.
Max and Miles turn at the sound of my voice. Max sprints toward us, grinding to a halt a couple of meters out when he realizes Haven isn’t someone he knows. And if I thought Haven’s stare was suspicious, it’s nothing compared to the way Max is eyeing her.
“Max, this is my friend, Haven,” I say without thinking, but she doesn’t seem to notice.
Miles does, though, stopping in front of us with a raised eyebrow directed straight at me, mouthing, “Friends?”
I ignore him. Dickhead.
“Haven, this is Max, my nephew.”
Haven crouches so she’s eye level with him. “Hey Max, it’s good to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.”
Max is uncharacteristically quiet as his bright blue eyes continue their assessment before sliding over to me and the bundle I’m carrying.
The thousands of expressions this child is capable of could keep me amused all day long, none more so than when his brows shoot up because he’s just figured something out.
“Is that my cousin?”
Haven’s head flicks to mine before turning back to Max. “Yeah, I guess she is. Her name is Everly. We thought she’d like to see the farm. I’m sure she’d love to play with you when she’s a bit older.”
Max’s nose wrinkles because he’s still firmly on the fence about whether he wants to play with her. His head tilts the way it always does when his brain is running with a million questions while he connects the dots.
“Are you the mum?”
Haven nods again. “Yeah, I’m Everly’s mom. Good job, buddy.”
“Did Uncle Alex put his—”
Miles’s big hand cups around Max’s mouth in the nick of time. “Not right now, Maxy.”
Miles bends down and whispers in his ear. I can’t hear anything he’s saying, but I have no doubt it’s only causing mischief, especially when Max’s eyes widen and his mouth drops.
“Yuck,” Max exclaims finally and runs back to the stall he’d been leaning over.
My eyes roll. “What did you tell him?”
“Nothing that isn’t true.” Miles shrugs, then turns to Haven. As he does, his expression morphs from his usual shit-stirring insolence to the broad smile I know he uses to charm women. Both are equally punchable. “Hello, Haven. Good to see you again.”
“Hey, Miles.”
“Ah, you remember I’m the better-looking one.” He winks, gesturing to his face.
It’s a joke that will never die. It’s been going since Hendricks and Miles first discovered girls, and no one could tell them apart. Something they used to their advantage many times. I only wish they’d been caught more because when they were, it was really fucking funny.
Haven points at Miles’s jacket with Lord M. B. W. Burlington embroidered on the left breast above the Foxleigh Park logo. “It has your name on it.”
“So it does.” He laughs. “What are you two doing here anyway? I thought new parents needed to catch up on sleep.”
Haven groans, mumbling agreement under her breath.
“Came to introduce Everly to her first cows.”
“Lucky Everly.” Miles peers into the harness. “But doesn’t she need to be awake for that?”
Ignoring him, we walk down to the stall where Max has climbed in to feed apples to two donkeys. Hendricks rescued them a few weeks ago and brought them here, where they’ve been enjoying life in the warmth of a cozy stable. Max has been visiting them every day.
“Max, where’s Daddy?”
“At the surgery,” he replies, grabbing another apple, and holds his hand out flat to the closest donkey.
“Hendricks is a vet. He runs surgery hours at lunchtime, but mostly, he’s out visiting yards,” I explain when Haven looks at me in question.
In the distance, the sound of the church clock rings out, and Miles checks his watch.
“Come on, Maxy, we need to get over to Foxleigh for your polo lesson,” he says, ruffling Max’s head.
Max shoves the remaining apple at the donkeys and jumps up. “May I ride Clover?”
“Who’s Clover?” asks Haven.
“Uncle Miles’s best polo pony. She’s really fast. Uncle Miles always scores a goal on her,” Max blurts out, turning to Miles with pleading eyes. “May I ride her? May I? May I? Pleaaaase.”
“Maybe. After your lesson, but only if you manage to stay on today.” Miles holds his hand out for Max. “See you both later.”
“’S’not my fault the saddle was slippery,” Max grumbles as Miles leads him away.
Haven watches them until they disappear around the corner and out of sight. She stays glued to the spot, that same look on her face she got before when we were talking about her ranch. Again, I want to ask what she’s thinking, but instead, I’m nudged hard in the ribs by a donkey.
“Ouch.”
The frown on her brow disappears along with whatever was going through her mind as she turns to find a donkey nibbling my sleeve and bursts out laughing. The combination is enough to wake Everly, who decides very loudly that she doesn’t want to hang out at the farm today. Or meet the cows.
In the end, because Everly’s lunch is imminent, I take one of the estate cars and drive us home so Haven can feed her in peace and the comfort of the rocking chair.
While they’re upstairs, I keep myself busy. I tidy, check my emails, make a few calls, return the car, and order lunch.
And I begin to wonder if she fell asleep with Everly when she walks into the kitchen, hair wet from a shower. Her skin’s still damp enough that the long T-shirt she’s wearing over her leggings clings enough to her body that memories of her naked almost short-circuit my brain.
It’s followed by the scent of roses and freshly cut logs wafting around her, and I have to unstick my tongue from the roof of my mouth.
I slam the laptop shut.
“Are you okay? Am I disturbing you?”
Disturbing? Yes. Very much so.
But I shake my head. “No, no. I was catching up on a few things. Nothing important. I ordered pizza. I thought you might be hungry, and I don’t know how to cook. I figured our first full day as housemates shouldn’t end with me burning the place down.”
“Housemates?”
I jump up and pull out the chair opposite me for her to sit. “Yes, we’re sharing a house.”
“Ah, we call them roommates.” She smiles and stifles a giggle. The one that pings my chest.
“Ah.” I pause. “But the problem with that is we’re not sharing a room.”
She’s about to sit, but pauses midway, holding my gaze for a second too long. My statement hangs in the air.
A Freudian slip.
“No,” she says quietly and sits. “We’re not. Housemates is good.”
Fuck.
I shift uncomfortably and move back to my chair. I should have kept my big mouth shut. I know better than to try to crack a joke. But it’s enough to give me an in to a conversation I’d rather not have. Don’t want to have.
Fucking Hendricks. Ruining my life with his sensibility.
“While we’re on the subject . . .” I clear my throat, but my mouth is so dry I jump up and pour myself a glass of water.
And while it gives me a couple of extra seconds to think about what to say, Haven’s now looking at me far too expectantly for my liking.
“I know you came over here to tell me about Everly, and I’m so happy that you did .
. . But I . . . uh.” For fuck’s sake, Alex, get your shit together.
“I don’t want to make assumptions, but I think .
. . moving forward . . . we need to keep things platonic. We have a lot at stake now.”
Her pause before she answers has me holding my breath. “With Everly?”
“Yes, exactly. I don’t want to mess this up by starting where we left off.”
“In Aspen?”
“In Aspen.”
“I agree,” she replies, and the speed of it is a punch to the gut.
“You do?” My eyes roam over her, checking—hoping—to see any hint that she doesn’t, in fact, agree at all. But I see nothing except her sweet smile as she nods.
“Great.” I hold my hand out to her, hoping she doesn’t notice my palm sweating. “Friends then?”
She claps hers to mine. We shake them together. “Friends.”
It’s when I don’t let go of her hand immediately that I’m sure she can see right through my lie. I don’t want to keep things platonic. Even the word sounds as forced as I feel it to be.
But I’ll go along with the pretense because I need a rule in place before I do something stupid.
Like kiss her.