The Butterfly Cove Collection. Sarah Bennett
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coaxing movements. She scrubbed her face across her wool-covered knees and then inched her head up a little. He bent his head down close to catch her eye and she let out a whoosh of breath and a shaky laugh before speaking. ‘I’m sorry, you didn’t do anything wrong. I had no idea Madeline had plans to remake the covers for the chairs. Such a silly thing to set me off, but it’s more often the kindness of others that gets to me. I am pretty much inured to sad things after more than two years of blind grief, but when people do nice things it knocks the wind right out of my sails.’
‘Grief? You lost someone, didn’t you? Your husband? That’s the sad story that you’re so determined not to share.’ Daniel felt Mia’s almost imperceptible nod through his hand as he slid it up from her neck to cup her head and draw her closer to him. She resisted for a moment before her body went limp and she clambered into his lap.
He sat back, stretching his long legs in front of him, back braced against the wall, and squeezed her to him. She felt just right, and another little piece of his scattered self clicked back into place. They’d been joined at the hip for the past few weeks and he was finding it more difficult to imagine leaving Orcombe and this hidden treasure of a house. Waking up without a view over the cove didn’t bear thinking about.
There was nothing sexual in their embrace, a simple giving and receiving of comfort. It occurred to him he might be the first man to hold her like this since she’d lost her husband. A primitive and possessive part of him hoped it was true before his veneer of civility chased off the inappropriate thought. The primitive part gave a grunt of disdain and slunk off to its corner to wait patiently for the rest of him to realise that Mia was his. Civility rolled its eyes and assured Daniel that his feelings were entirely honourable, brotherly in fact. She shifted in his lap and civility fled as her bottom nestled a little too close for comfort.
Daniel bit down on his tongue and turned his thoughts outwards, giving all his focus to the woman in his arms. Perving on a grieving widow might be a new low, even for him. He rubbed his hands in soft, smooth circles on her back and let his body relax a little more, encouraging her to do the same. He turned his head to the side to rest his cheek on the soft down of her hair.
Feeling awkward over his inappropriate feelings given the source of her upset, he cast around for something neutral to distract them both. He spotted the notebooks and samples scattered beside them and, still holding Mia in place with one arm, he reached his other hand over to draw the books closer to them.
***
Mia raised her head from where it rested against Daniel’s chest as his movement stirred her back to attention. The sheer comfort of his warm body and the slow, steady rhythm of his heart beneath her ear had soothed the ragged edges caused by her sudden breakdown. She didn’t want to move and he seemed in no hurry to let her go as he flipped through one of her notebooks, pausing when a swatch of material or picture caught his attention.
She must look a fright. She was not a pretty crier—had yet to meet a woman outside the big screen who could do the sparkling tears and perfect lip quiver. Her face always turned blotchy with her eyelids swelling until it looked like she had two translucent slugs balanced on her face. Lifting her sleeve, she rubbed it across her cheeks to dry the last of her tears then settled back against Daniel.
Her gaze drifted over the well-thumbed images in her notebooks as she thought again about her plans for the empty room around them. ‘I’d like to be able to bring the beach in here. Does that sound silly? I want it to feel like the outside is inside; the walls should be the clear blue of the sky on a summer day. I’d cover the floor in soft rugs in shades of sand; the bed would be a darker blue with huge white pillows like clouds or the tops of the waves. The furniture will be white pine, and I’d add jars full of shells and bits of driftwood resting in the corner and along the windowsills. I want there to be a huge window seat here, a daybed, with the same dressings as the bed so guests can sit here and look out across to the sea.’
Mia leaned forward to grab her notebooks and Daniel moved his legs to accommodate her until she ended up sitting between his raised knees, back still to his chest. He peered over her shoulder whilst she showed him the colours on the paint charts.
‘Have you thought about draping the bed, creating one of those canopies maybe? If you use a soft, sheer material it could be really effective and capture that cloud-like theme you were talking about.’
Mia glanced back over her shoulder. ‘This is nice, you know? Having someone else to bounce ideas around with. It helps. I was so mad at Madeline when she dumped you on my doorstep, but I’m grateful now.’ She hesitated a moment then spoke the simple truth in her heart. ‘I’m glad you’re here.’
Daniel pressed a light kiss to her temple, barely a brush of lips against skin, but it lit her up inside like a Christmas tree. She sat up straighter—embarrassed at her reaction, feeling a little pang of regret when he dropped his arms from around her. Wanting to hide the rosy glow warming her cheeks, she busied herself gathering together her notebooks. Just like that, the spell broke and their perfect, peaceful shared moment vanished.
Mia swallowed a sigh of regret and knew that there was no-one but herself to blame. The kiss had been innocent, a fraternal gesture of comfort, and she’d made it into something else by her foolish reaction. She bit her lip, risking a quick glance at him as she rose to her feet, books clutched in front of her like a paper shield. The bay window framed him where he sat with his arms hooked around his raised knees. A frown creased his forehead, drawing his dark brows down to hood his eyes. The green of his irises seemed to change with his moods and they were growing stormy again as though something had disturbed him.
Plastering a bright smile on her face, she took a backward step towards the door. ‘I think I’ll go and do some shopping, strike while the iron is hot and the decorating muse is upon me, you know?’ she babbled, the intensity of his expression stirring anxious feelings in her tummy. Why didn’t he say something?
Mia edged further towards the door, feeling like a snared rabbit in the ferocity of Daniel’s gaze. ‘Um, right, so I’ll maybe put the kettle on and have a cup of tea before I go. Do you want one?’
He shook his head, the furrows on his brows lifting. ‘What? No. No tea. I’ll get back to the barn and finish those photos for Madeline.’ A hint of colour spotted his cheekbones and she couldn’t bear the strained atmosphere a second longer. Spinning on her heel, she ducked out of the door, heading up to the sanctuary of her room rather than the kitchen. She needed to wash her face, and if she stayed upstairs for a bit, she wouldn’t risk bumping into him on his way through to the barn.
She threw herself down on her bed and buried her head under the pillows. Try as she might, she couldn’t block out the thought running around in her head. She liked Daniel. Flipping onto her back with a groan, she stared up at the damp patch on the ceiling. ‘What the hell have you gone and done, Mia Sutherland?’ she muttered to herself. But she knew the answer. Somewhere along the line she’d begun to fall for him. Now she recognised it, she would be able to put a stop to it. His friendship was too important for her to risk on a silly crush.
Feeling considerably better after a wash and brush-up, Mia hesitated on her way to the car. The barn door was open and she could hear Daniel moving things around. Driving off without saying goodbye would be rude. Cursing her good manners, she unlocked the car, tossed her bag onto the passenger seat then took a deep breath before crossing the yard to the barn.
The relative gloom compared to outside left her blind for a few seconds, so she stopped just inside. Her eyes adjusted to the change in light. The scrabbling noise of Daniel wrestling with the huge tarpaulin pinned over one of the rear windows drew her attention.
He let out a muttered curse as he barked his shin on one of the many crates littering the floor and she winced. Wondering if she would be more help or hindrance, she watched him adjust his grip on the covering. A sharp tug on the stubborn material and it pulled free from its anchor point in a cloud of dust that sent him staggering back as a flood of light poured into the barn.
‘Careful!’ She held out a hand when he almost tumbled backwards over an old, moth-eaten chair. They’d done her a favour although the hideous