Chapter 25 Jemma
Jemma
Jemma considered calling off dinner with her grandparents, but the rumble of her stomach advised otherwise.
She hadn’t eaten all day—evidence that she hadn’t persuaded Hamish to stay for lunch.
But what he had stayed for—that kiss—had been enough to keep her distracted for hours.
What did it mean? Or, more importantly, and assuming her brain still functioned well enough to correctly interpret the passionate embrace, what did it mean that he’d refused to stay?
He had been laughingly adamant in his determination to head straight back to Settlers and, while she appreciated his concern for his obligations there, it wasn’t like his responsibilities were career-focused; the world wasn’t going to end if he blew them off for an hour. Or six.
Frustratingly, his not-quite-rejection meant that Hamish was now taking up far more real estate in her thoughts than was permissible.
After calling Nonna to say she’d be over for dinner, she’d spent a couple of hours in front of her computer, trying to force herself to concentrate on work.
Realising that she’d actually spent the bulk of that time stalking regional law firms and trying to drill down on an approximation of their income, she slammed the laptop shut, yelled at Google to pick a soundtrack and headed for the bathroom.
A full-size bath was one of the most attractive amenities of the apartment, though one she rarely found time to indulge in.
But today, everything was out of kilter and odd, so she’d take a languorous bath—glass of wine in hand—while allowing herself to play an unfamiliar game of what if?
in her head. Because what if there could be something more with Hamish than a quick fling?
What if he was on to something with his talk of setting up a country practice?
The problem was, she was too pragmatic to let daydreams go far; Hamish simply wasn’t handbag material. Sure, he had the looks and the quick wit, but there was no world in which their lifestyles could be compatible.
Come to think of it, his wit might be a handicap. Where Kain could be relied on to not have an opinion about anything beyond whether he needed to add an SPF to his skincare regime, Hamish had proven he had a diabolical sense of humour, coupled with a ready mouth.
Something in her chest gave a flutter as she recalled the other things that mouth had been up to recently.
She set aside her glass with a sharp clink. Wine mixed with an overheated bath in the middle of the day evidently caused serious arrhythmia. That was another mistake she wouldn’t be repeating.
‘So?’ Nonna said, setting down her fork.
‘So, what?’ Dinner with her grandparents may not have been the best idea. Except for when it came to Uncle Dan, her grandmother was far too astute.
‘So what have you done with our Jemma? Who is this woman who is pushing her food around the plate and sighing every five minutes?’
‘I’m not … sighing,’ she said, realising that she couldn’t defend the other accusation.
‘I have to agree with your nonna on this one,’ Nonno said, as though he ever did otherwise. ‘Since you moved to the country, you are different, bella.’ He stood and took the pasta plates from the table. ‘I shall fetch the secondo.’
‘I didn’t move there,’ she yelled after him.
Although Sundays were the only day she ate at their house, rather than the trattoria, her grandparents didn’t believe in downplaying either the quantity or the quality of food.
They’d already had an antipasto of prosciutto and melon, followed by a small plate of handmade ravioli.
‘You have about two minutes to speak before Nonno is back in here,’ Nonna cautioned.
Nonna never pulled any punches when it came to prying, which was why Jemma had kept her relationship with Kain a closely guarded secret.
Yet being with him hadn’t made any difference to her demeanour that her grandparents would have picked up on.
Twenty heated minutes with Hamish, however …
Her hand snuck to her somewhat tender lips.
‘I met a guy,’ she said, the words odd and unfamiliar.
‘Well, I’m relieved it’s a boy. I was beginning to wonder,’ Nonna said.
It took Jemma a moment to realise her grandmother was questioning her sexuality. ‘Nonna! You can’t say that kind of thing.’
‘I just did.’
Nonna would get on famously with Paul Schenscher, Jemma realised.
‘But anyway,’ Nonna said, ‘this guy?’
Jemma lifted one shoulder. ‘He’s a friend of Sam’s.’
‘Ah, Samanta!’ Nonna said more enthusiastically than Jemma had previously heard her mention the name.
‘So he’s also from the country?’ Nonno said, sounding rather more cautious than her grandmother.
He set a plate holding thin slices of meat topped with a sage leaf and dressed with a silky white wine sauce in front of each of them.
She could have predicted that the secondo would be saltimbocca: the flash-fried, ultra-thin veal schnitzels topped with ham and a squeeze of lime were her favourite.
‘Yeah. Well, Settlers Bridge. That’s a bit closer to Adelaide than where Dad and Sam live.’ Not that the few kilometres would matter, and, in any case, why was she trying to sell her grandparents on the location?
‘That’s good,’ Nonna said, and Jemma blinked in surprise. Her grandfather also looked shocked. ‘If we have to travel to see Pierce’—Nonna made it sound as though they’d be crossing an illegal border—‘we might as well visit Jemma at the same time.’
Jemma pointed at the window framed by burnt orange curtains that matched the terracotta floor and the very seventies autumnal benchtop tiles. ‘In case you’ve forgotten, I live right here. In the city … you know, where my career is.’
‘They don’t have lawyers in the country?’ Nonna’s words bore a shocking similarity to Hamish’s. And it was probably best Jemma didn’t mention her related research, or her grandparents would think she was really invested, rather than idly passing time on a Sunday morning.
‘Your father also knows this guy, then?’ Nonno asked.
‘Sure. But it’s … nothing. He’s just someone I met.’
Nonno chuckled. ‘Isn’t that how all relationships start? With a meeting.’
A wave of heat prickled up Jemma’s neck. ‘It’s not a relationship,’ she choked out. ‘He’s just a guy.’
‘So you keep saying,’ Nonna said. ‘We get it, Jemma, he’s a guy. And you’re not a lesbian.’ Now her grandmother had let that cat out of the bag, she was obviously going to keep pulling its tail. ‘He’s a farmer?’
‘Yes, but he’s also a mechanic.’ God, why was she listing his qualifications? They’d kissed, and that’s all she was interested in. Well, that and a little more. But nothing serious. She didn’t need to sell Hamish to her grandparents. ‘He owns the only garage in town.’
‘And why does this farming mechanic have my granddaughter all tongue-tied?’ Nonno asked. ‘This is a first.’
Her instinct was to deny the charge, but she’d probably stumble over the words. Instead, she huffed, trying to sound dismissive and nonchalant. ‘He’s … funny. Like, clever-funny, without being a tosser about it.’
‘A rare combination,’ Nonno said dryly.
‘And he plays the guitar, Nonno.’ Her grandfather used to bring a mandolin out after meals when she was a kid. ‘But, you know, like I said, just a friend,’ she added hastily.
‘Your nonno is my best friend,’ Nonna said slyly.
‘The best lovers start out as best friends,’ Nonno agreed.
Jemma scrunched her face. ‘Firstly, ew. And secondly, what aren’t we understanding here? Hamish is just a friend. I’m way too busy for anything else.’
Except why had she said she was too busy, rather than that she wasn’t interested?
‘Are you sure you don’t mean you are too busy making yourself too busy?’ her grandmother asked, using the side of her fork to slice the tender veal.
‘Too busy making a living,’ Jemma insisted, despite the small voice inside her that cheered on her grandmother.
‘But this Hamish has his own living?’ Nonno said.
‘What is this, a cross-examination? Look, you wouldn’t even like Hamish. He’s …’ She struggled to find something derogatory. ‘Lightweight’ had flashed to mind, but she knew it wasn’t true. ‘He’s … he’s not career orientated.’
‘Are you trying to tell us his faults or his attributes?’ Nonno teased. ‘For you, a career is fine, because that is what you choose. But for others there are different … passions.’
God, was she actually blushing? She stuffed meat into her mouth; perhaps chewing would drain the blood from her cheeks.
‘And your passion for your career will never give us grandbabies,’ Nonna said.
‘Look,’ Jemma said without swallowing, hoping the poor manners would divert Nonna’s attention.
‘I regret ever mentioning him. I don’t want children, Hamish is not grandbaby-making material, and it was just a bit of fun.
’ She recalled with a twinge of guilt Hamish’s dislike of lying; she might maintain that she wanted something transitory, but his repeated rejections implied that he wasn’t up for that.
And, despite his undeniable unsuitability and her insistence that heart would never rule head and career won out over care, she was tempted to bend her rules to meet him halfway, because that kiss. A reminiscent smile curved her lips.
‘Well, look at Venice,’ her grandfather said nonsensically.
‘Gladly,’ she replied, relieved at the change of conversation.
Nonno’s eyes glinted. ‘That city is proof that you don’t always need a solid foundation.’
Jemma frowned. Through ingenuity and necessity, the historic Italian city had been built on marshland barely capable of supporting a human’s weight.
Nonno waited only a second for her to catch on. ‘All you require is the desire to build something.’
No lurking shadows that need dealing with?
Jemma grinned as Hamish’s message flashed up on her phone a few hours later. She’d been relieved when Dante had turned up at her grandparents’ in time to divert the conversation away from Hamish—but that didn’t mean that she hadn’t spent the rest of the evening thinking about the mechanic.
He’d played it well, she admitted to herself as she flicked off the bathroom light and made her way to the bedroom.
He hadn’t messaged her so early that he seemed desperate—in fact, she’d just started to verge on concerned that he wouldn’t contact her until she was back in Settlers Bridge.
His timing was impeccable: there was something almost sinfully nice about getting the text as she was climbing into bed.
Her fingers rested on the screen for a moment. If there was one thing she’d learned, it was that Hamish was always up for a bit of flirting.
You could always come check under my bed.
It’d be my pleasure, I’m sure. But stuff here’s gone a bit south.
She grinned wickedly.
South is generally good, in my experience.
Then she sat staring at the three pulsing dots on her phone for seven frustrating minutes, waiting for his response.
Sorry. Actually, I need your help with something.
Now they were getting somewhere. Jemma settled further under the woollen quilt.
Thought you were never going to ask.
When are you back in Settlers? Still Wednesday?
She frowned. She might consider taking this a little further than a fling, but she definitely wasn’t investing in anything that smacked of neediness. Hamish had to be prepared to travel to her. No, he had to be desperate to travel to her, so that she maintained control of the relationship.
I’m always … open … to suggestions
So can I book an oral … consultation when you’re back?
That was more like it.
I’m sure I can squeeze you in.
You sound very confident. Does that come with a guarantee?
A little shocked by the giggle that escaped her lips, she reached out to turn off the bedside light.
Realistically, Hamish also had a job, so it would be unreasonable to expect him to do the running-to-her thing every time they hooked up …
Because they were definitely going to connect on a more intimate level; she was determined.
Besides, she’d already planned to return to Settlers—depending on how the meeting with Gerard went—so it wasn’t like she was making a huge concession.
It’d still be her relationship, her terms, as always.
Absolutely. Told you I never promise what I can’t deliver. Just give me a couple of days to gird my loins to return to the wilderness.
An interesting and not entirely unpleasant visual. But it’s all about perspective, you know. Sure, you’re in the middle of the countryside out here, far away from your city conveniences. But is there anywhere you can see the stars better?
For a second she thought he’d lost the flirtatious element of the conversation, but then another text came through.
Of course, you have to be lying in the right position to do so. I can help you with that.
Hamish was fun, that’s what she really liked about him, Jemma realised. Pure, unadulterated, challenging, mildly X-rated fun. Wrapped in a package that was not at all hard on the eyes.