Chapter Four
Nate
Nate was going to have to find some kind of coping mechanism if he was going to sit in Laurel’s office every day. His evening run in the dusky heat through the winding lanes on the way to Lower Houghton was helping erase her non-committal ‘hmm’ from his mind. Because that ‘hmm’, coupled with the glare of her whiskey eyes when she realised that the only place he could work was in her office, had been haunting him. Haunting him in a good way.
When she’d bitten her lip in thought, he’d wondered what it would taste like and how easy it would have been to back her up against the wall and see for himself.
Nate frowned, his running shoes beating the uneven road.
What a weird thing for her to say, that she never knew him. Of course she hadn’t, they had barely said hi to each other. So, no, she wasn’t likely to know his deepest darkest secrets. Nate cringed as he remembered that he had literally invited her to curl up in his lap with that ‘get to know me’ comment. Why had he even said that? It was to annoy her, to see if she snapped at the line, to see if he could win.
Nate increased his pace, wiping the sweat across his forehead as the lane widened into Little Houghton town.
It wasn’t big, obviously, but the little high street included two barber shops – although how many barber shops one tiny place needed Nate was unsure – an estate agent, opticians, a couple of cafes, a little Sainsbury’s. He’d explore it properly one weekend. It wasn’t like he didn’t have time.
Jack had taken him to the Dog who didn’t drink tea in the morning? Laurel had to be in the mood for hot drinks, and people who drank tea when it was promising to be a disgustingly hot British summer day? Yeah, they were weird.
‘Oh, alright.’
He was like a wounded puppy, his bottom lip popping out in a small pout as he reached for the poor neglected cup.
It wasn’t that Nate had been right about starting again, or whatever. It was more that Laurel had realised that she was thirty-two and had absolutely no need to behave like she was twenty. Again. She could let him have a space in her office and she could be accommodating. But they didn’t have to be best friends.
‘But it was very kind of you to think of me. Thank you.’
Why so formal? Oh, that’s right, because she wasn’t sure how to do ‘getting to know you’. Wasn’t sure how to behave around him without the crippling fear of embarrassment dictating her every move. Or perhaps it was because she had literally no idea how to converse with anyone outside of her family, her business acquaintances and her Tinder dates.
Nate glanced at her as he sat down, now with two cups of tea to slurp from, and she smiled a little at him. Not a sarcastic one, not one that didn’t reach her eyes, but a proper one, a ‘yes, we can cohabit this space for a little bit’ smile.
Nate looked at her, narrowing his eyes slightly, his mouth curving on one side in what could have been intrigue, or confusion. Or possibly wind.
The moment stretched as they watched each other, and Laurel’s mouth lost all ability to produce saliva. Her lips parted because breathing through her nose just wasn’t cutting it.
One thing was for certain, and that was that Nate Daley was, and there was simply no way other way of putting it, sexy. Sexy as hell.
Laurel would have to be very careful, very careful indeed.
Nate
Nate was confused. What type of weirdo didn’t like tea in the morning? The weirdo that he was sharing an office with, obviously.
What else was wrong with her? Perhaps she peeled her face off at night to let the demon inside her get some airtime. Perhaps she kept the bones of baby lambs and bunnies to boil up, make a nice stock base for risotto.
These were the things Nate was thinking about as he typed and deleted, typed and deleted. Full sentences were not his friend and it was because he was distracted by the ridiculous ‘thank you for thinking of me’. What even was that? Was that her version of nice?
Regardless, he’d spotted her chest flush, watched the way her legs had uncrossed and crossed again under the desk.
Trying to put thoughts aside of what he would do if he got his hands on Laurel Fletcher’s legs, because that was never going to happen, Nate clicked open the third email from Alex with ‘OPEN ME YOU PRICK’ in the subject line.
Ah, okay. He could deal with this. Alex was coming next week, and that was okay. The dig just wouldn’t be as far along as he had originally planned for with Jane. As well as next week, Alex was coming in a month’s time. He’d already booked rooms at the Dog & Gun in town. It would be nice to see Alex, nice to spend some time with him. Nate would just have to get in the mood, and that would be fine. He could do that.
‘What’s wrong?’ Laurel asked, tapping away at her computer, not even looking at him.
He leaned back in his chair and stretched a leg out. ‘What makes you think something’s wrong?’
She cut her eyes to him, before looking back at her screen and deleting whatever she had just typed.
‘You sound like The Little Train Who Could.’
What the hell was she going on about?
‘You’re huffing, sighing, expelling breath loudly,’ she said, turning to face him.
He crossed his arms over his chest.
‘Oh, so now I’m not allowed to breathe?’
Laurel stilled. She looked hurt.
‘I was just asking,’ she said quietly, lips pinching together.
‘Sorry, it’s just...’ He pulled a hand through his hair, giving her an apologetic smile. ‘Do you remember Alex, my best friend from university? He went to Hadrian’s Wall as well.’
‘Alex Woollard?’ Laurel wheeled her chair away from her desk and assessed him. ‘Yes, I remember Alex Woollard,’ she said crisply, her face blank.
‘Al is my liaison at the British Archaeology Society and he’s visiting next week.’ Laurel’s eyebrows shot up, her blank mask falling off her face. ‘I just thought I’d have more time, you know?’
‘Alex Woollard? Is coming here? To my farm?’ she squawked, hands flat on the desk.
‘Yeah...’ he drew the word out, confused.
Should he have told her, cleared it with her that he was having visitors to the farm? No, of course not. It might be her farm, but it was his dig, and it was up to him who he had on site.
‘But he can’t stay here,’ she spluttered, ‘there isn’t space.’
‘He’s booked a room at the Dog & Gun.’ Nate cocked his head to the side, confused. Yeah, Alex could be a bit of a dick, but what the fuck was going on to make her react like this.
‘What’s with you? What’s all this?’ He pointed vaguely at her.
Laurel looked down at her desk, blinking furiously, wringing her fingers together. When she finally looked up at him, it was with defeat.
‘Alex Woollard is coming to my farm,’ she murmured, resigned.
‘Is that a problem?’ Perhaps if he pushed her, then he’d finally understand what was going on in that messy mind of hers.
‘Is that a problem?’ Laurel repeated. ‘No, Alex Woollard being here, on my farm, is not a problem at all.’
Nate kept looking at her, utterly and completely confused. What had happened? Who was this scared little girl? She’d gone pale, he suspected clammy as well, considering that she kept wiping her hands on her skirt, and obviously had some issue with her hair because she kept touching it.
She noticed him looking at her.
‘What?’
‘What?’ He was incredulous. ‘What’s happening over there?’
‘What’s happening over here?’
Why was Laurel Fletcher repeating everything he said? Was she having some kind of breakdown? She sucked in a breath like she had just come up for air, and rolled her shoulders back, visibly pulling herself together.
‘Nothing, I’m fine. I’m fine. Of course I’m fine. I’m fine with everything.’
She pulled a smile from the depths of her soul and plastered it on her face.
Nate took a considered look at her, not believing her one bit. ‘Alright then.’
If that’s the game she wanted to play, then that was fine. If she wanted to pretend that the mere mention of Alex causing her to hyperventilate was ‘nothing’, then who was he to argue? If she was upset by Nate being here because of her crush on Alex, then having Alex himself here may just tip her over the edge.
Nate glanced up at the photograph of the three dirty kneed kids in front of the old farmhouse again. How had her brothers Jack and Robin turned out so calm and laid back, relaxed and friendly, and Laurel had turned out to be this highly strung, twitchy, authoritarian? He looked again at Robin’s arms wrapped around fourteen-year-old Laurel’s leg, and Jack’s protective arm over his sister’s shoulder. They were smiling, but it wasn’t the carefree, unfiltered smile of childhood. No, they were forced smiles with tired, worn eyes.
Laurel’s chair wheeled back, and she stood abruptly.
‘I’m going to the kitchen. Do you want a cup of tea? Of course not, you’ve got a cup, well you’ve got two cups,’ she rambled.
‘Yeah.’ He nodded, gesturing at the pair of cups on the table. ‘No more, thanks.’
Laurel shot finger guns at him. Finger guns. ‘Okay, yeah, good. Uh, okay, I’m going. Yeah.’
Nate stared after her in disbelief. What the hell just happened?
Laurel was so prim one moment and the next she’s shooting finger guns? She was the vanguard, there to protect her family at any cost, but she was also a fuzzy bumblebee just trying to make it to the next flower. Full of contradictions.
Nate found himself grinning as the door closed behind her. She was a breath of fresh buttercup air in his staid and boring little life.
Sharing an office with Laurel Fletcher was going to be interesting.