The Lavender Bay Collection. Sarah Bennett
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with no plan. Houses had been added as required, their mismatched styles reflecting whatever the trend had been at the time, or more often, whatever the budget of the new owner could afford.
Unhooking the small backpack he carried, he fished out his water bottle and went to take a drink then offered it to Beth first. Her cheeks were rosy, from a combination of exertion and the chilly breeze. Sweat-dampened tendrils of hair clung to her forehead and curled around her neck where they’d escaped from the high ponytail. Having taken a good drink, she offered the bottle back to him and he took a swig before stowing it away once more.
‘Have you had enough, or do you want to carry on?’ He could manage another couple of miles easily, but he was conscious she might not be used to the same pace.
‘I’m not in a hurry to get back, but maybe we could walk for a bit?’
That was more than fine with him. ‘We could carry on over the rise and make our way towards the lavender farm.’ There wouldn’t be much to see this time of year, but the bridle path would be quiet, and they’d be protected from the worst of the wind once they got down the hill a bit. He held out his hand, and she stared at it for a few moments before slipping her fingers in between his.
They strolled in silence for a few minutes. From the little frown line between her brows, Sam got the feeling Beth was working something out in her mind so he was content to leave her to it. A few puddles lingered in the centre of the stony pathway carved out over generations by walkers and riders, so he steered her to the left, letting her walk in front of him, but keeping hold of her hand.
The scrubby trees on the banks bordering the path were bare at first glance, the grasses surrounding their trunks yellowed and limp. But to a discerning eye, the signs of spring were there in the tiny buds greening on the twigs, the hints of birdsong carried on the breeze. Sam loved this time of year when it was like the land was stirring from the deep sleep of winter, waiting for its cue from Mother Nature to burst into life once more.
As the trees thinned out again, the landscape opened to reveal the rolling fields of Gilbert’s farm. Row upon neat row of closely pruned lavender plants marched across the surrounding hills. Even this early in the season, a heady scent drifted from the traditional grey slate and stone farm buildings clustered in the natural hollow formed by the surrounding hills. In the sea of muted colours below, the bright red sports car parked in front of the farmhouse was unmissable.
He stopped to inhale the rich fragrance mixed with the salty breeze coming in off the sea wondering if there was a way to capture it. It would be perfect for Subterranean. A couple of diffusers hidden discretely in the entrance alcove would set the scene for an evening of sensual delights.
Beth glanced back at him. ‘What’s put that look on your face?’ she asked, with a gentle squeeze of his fingers.
‘Take a breath. Tell me what you smell.’
She closed her eyes and did as he bade, her lips curving up at the corners. ‘Home. I smell home.’
Unable to resist the temptation of that smile, Sam closed the small distance between them and cupped the back of her head, beneath her ponytail. He waited for her eyes to open, watched as her pupils dilated in acknowledgement of his closeness to her body, and waited some more. Only when she began to move, to stretch on tiptoe, her fingers curling into the thick cotton of his tracksuit top did he lower his head to bring their mouths together.
Needing to know she was fully on-board, he ceded control of the moment to her, following her lead as she nibbled at his lower lip, letting her take her time. And then he was beyond conscious decision as she traced her tongue along the seam of his mouth and he lost himself in the sweet taste of her, in the delicious press of her body against his.
When she lowered her feet flat, he followed her down, straining his neck to catch every last moment until she turned her face away with a breathy laugh. ‘I think we should talk about those ground rules, don’t you?’
Tucking her beneath his arm, he started them moving back along the track. ‘As long as kissing you as often as I can remains on the table, I’ll be happy.’
Beth halted to tug his head back down for another kiss so hot it made him forget the chilly edge of the March breeze. ‘I’m very amenable to that,’ she whispered against his cheek once they finally came up for air. ‘As for the other rules, there’s only one that’s really important to me…’
At the sudden seriousness in her tone, he moved back to put a little space between them, so he could focus on what she had to say without being distracted by the growing demands of his body. ‘I’m listening.’
She snagged his hand, lacing their fingers together. ‘Everyone’s been so fantastic since Eleanor died. They’ve offered me support, a shoulder to cry on, but you’re the only one who’s stood up to me. I needed your honesty yesterday, about Charlie. Promise me that however this thing between us progresses that you won’t stop delivering the hard truths if you think I need to hear them.’
Sam tightened his hand around hers. ‘I promise, but only if you do the same. You were the one who helped me see past my own disappointment to better understand my dad’s point of view. I don’t know where we’d be right now without that.’
Beth set the tray of borrowed glasses down on the front counter and adjusted the handset under her ear. ‘I’m not ready, it’s going to be a disaster,’ she wailed into the phone.
Deep laughter greeted her declaration sending little tendrils of warmth curling through her. ‘Stop being a wimp, you’ve worked your arse off all week and everything is going to be fantastic.’ Sam paused. ‘And if it’s a disaster at least your guests can enjoy all that delicious food Eliza and I made for you.’
It was her turn to laugh. ‘Is that your idea of a pep talk? Why do I even bother with you?’
‘Because I’m the best kisser in Lavender Bay.’ The man had a point—not that she’d been getting any lately. Getting the emporium ready for opening was taking up every waking moment of her time and they hadn’t had a chance to put any of their ground rules into practice. Her life was distinctly lacking in anything remotely resembling a fling.
Exaggerating a sigh, she swapped the phone to her other ear and started pulling sheets of cling film off the bowls of nibbles she’d set out on every available surface. ‘Yeah, I vaguely remember you having some basic skills in that department.’
‘Basic? Basic?’
Whatever he said next she missed because she was laughing so hard she dropped her phone. ‘Damn!’ She bent down to scoop it up and knocked her head on the corner of a shelf. ‘Ouch.’
‘What was that? Are you okay?’
She rubbed her head. ‘I’m fine, just a little karmic rebound, that’s all.’ Closing her eyes, she sucked in a deep breath. ‘Tell me I’ve got this.’
‘You’ve got this. You do. The emporium looks great, especially the local art collection. I think it’s inspired. Mum and Dad will be there to lend a hand, not that you’ll need it. And you can tell me all about it later.’
‘Thank you. You might be a basic kisser, but your pep talks are on the money.’ She lowered her voice to a husky murmur. ‘If you’ve got time to work on your skills, there’s a couple of boxes I could do with a hand with in the stock room.’
‘Temptress.’ He heaved an exaggerated sigh. ‘Much as I’d love to take you up on such a delightful invitation, this basic kisser has to go because we’ve got a walk-in looking for a room. I’ll call you later, okay?’
They’d both agreed that work came first, but she couldn’t hide her frustration. ‘Okay.’
‘Hey, no sulking, it’ll be great.’ He hung up and consequently missed her outraged squawk. She was seriously starting