A Fresh Start on Crumcarey (Crumcarey Island #5)

Chapter 7

CHAPTER 7

MAGGIE

M aggie blinked.

Had she really said that?

She couldn’t believe she’d had the balls.

Maybe she was still in shock from the walk? If she was being honest, it had been more like a crawl – the wind had simply been too strong for anything else. It had been very wet, very loud and very scary – a true sensory overload.

By the time she’d reached Luke’s door, there had been tears mingling with the rainwater dripping from her face. With any luck, the gorgeous guy across the table from her might not have noticed. Then again… she didn’t really care if he had. She had nothing to prove… did she?!

Either way, her rather firm decision to stay put had everything to do with not wanting to head back out into the storm, and nothing at all to do with the opportunity to hang out here with a gorgeous man in his lovely, cosy home. If she kept telling herself that, she might eventually believe it.

Was it worth turning down The Tallyaff – where there was carpet, and a bar… and probably even a bath that worked? Absolutely.

‘I like what you’ve done with the place,’ she said, glancing around at the clean walls, simple furniture and twinkling golden lights.

How had he turned this old cow shed into a home in just a few short weeks?

‘Thanks,’ said Luke, running his fingers through his hair and looking a little bit lost. ‘Had you seen inside before?’

Maggie shook her head. She’d definitely seen the building from the outside though. Russell had always slowed down whenever they’d driven past Mr Harris’s farm. He’d enjoyed sneering at the state of the place and crowing about the fact that the old farmer was bound to ask him for help once he saw what a beautiful job he was going to do at Pear Tree Cottage.

‘What did my place used to be called?’

The question popped out of Maggie’s mouth before she’d realised that her brain had wandered down a random rabbit hole.

‘Brae Byre,’ said Luke, cocking his head curiously. ‘At least, that’s what Uncle Harris told me.’

‘Better than bloody Pear Tree Cottage,’ she huffed.

‘Where’s that?’ said Luke, looking confused.

‘That’s what it’s called now,’ said Maggie, a weight of weariness suddenly descending on her. ‘My cottage, I mean. That’s what Russell – my ex – wanted to call it.’

He’d been getting job offers left right and centre at that point, so she’d just gone along with it. He’d been turning them all down, and she hadn’t wanted to give him any reason to take the offers a bit more seriously. She’d wanted to keep him sweet… she hadn’t wanted him to disappear on her. A fat lot of good it did her!

‘Ah… that explains why Uncle Harris was muttering something about “no trees” when we drove past!’ said Luke with a small smile. ‘I don’t think there’s a pear tree closer than about two hundred miles south of here. Pretty name, though,’ he added quickly.

‘Stupid name,’ she huffed, shaking her head. ‘Sorry.’

‘What are you apologising for?!’ said Luke, looking surprised.

‘For ruining your evening because my stupidly named cottage no longer has a roof.’

Maggie was aware that her voice had taken on a whiney edge – but for a brief moment, she couldn’t bring herself to care. She was sitting in a barn that had been turned into a cosier home than hers in just three weeks. It was warm, dry and clean. It was all the things her place wasn’t. Plus, she was tired and cold, and all that was waiting for her back at stupid Pear Tree Cottage was less than half a roof, a squashed car and some death-trap wiring.

Maggie shivered.

‘Okay – it’s time to get you out of those wet clothes,’ said Luke. ‘In the nicest way possible!’ he added quickly. ‘I didn’t mean…’

‘It’s okay,’ said Maggie, forcing a smile. ‘And that would be good…’ She trailed off, wrapping her arms around herself in a vain attempt to warm up a bit, but there was no way that was going to happen while she was wearing several layers of sodden clothes.

‘I haven’t got much in the way of clothes for you to change into… at least, not ones that’ll fit!’ he said. ‘I do have some clean tee shirts though… and there’s a fresh pair of overalls – at least they won’t keep falling down on you!’

‘Yes please,’ she said. Anything had to be better than wet skinny jeans!

Luke ambled over to an alcove behind his settee and rummaged in a drawer, pulling out various bits and pieces until he found what he was looking for.

‘Here,’ he said, holding the mercifully dry clothing out towards her. ‘You can change in the bathroom – it’s just through there,’ he pointed at a door on the other side of the room.

Maggie nearly swooned at the sight. A bathroom that had a door and a working handle? She’d clearly died and gone to heaven.

‘Thanks,’ she said, shooting him a grateful smile.

‘Take your time,’ he said with a little nod.

Maggie’s stomach flipped, and for a brief moment, she had the almost uncontrollable urge to wrap her arms around Luke and cuddle the living daylights out of him.

‘Be right back!’ she squeaked, making a dash for the bathroom.

Closing the door behind her, Maggie did her best to take a deep breath and will her racing heart to calm down. Not easy when she was standing in a bathroom with a working light and running water! Heaven!

Dashing to the sink, Maggie turned the hot tap on and gasped. Hot… running… water. It was pure luxury! Sure, the pipework was exposed and there weren’t any tiles on the walls or floor yet, but the old stone walls had been beautifully re-pointed. There wasn’t a single cobweb to be seen in the corners… and there was no sign of green algae growing on the window frame. Unlike some other places she could mention.

‘I’m moving in,’ she whispered, taking everything in.

Just as Luke had said, there was a large space where the bath should be. The copper piping simply came to an abrupt halt on the wall, and there was a pipe that peeped up through the floorboards, awaiting its time to shine.

Instead of a bath, there were a couple of familiar-looking plastic boxes filled with an array of jars, bottles and other assorted bits and pieces. Maggie spotted the bottle of wine Luke had mentioned and smiled.

First things first, though.

Reaching behind her, Maggie grabbed her sopping-wet jumper and struggled to peel it up over her head. For a moment, it seemed to get wedged, and she sucked in a long, slow breath as she did her best to stay calm inside her slightly gross prison. It wasn’t easy when suddenly all she could think about was what Luke had looked like when she’d arrived. Topless. Tanned. Delicious.

A chill ran down Maggie’s spine. Or maybe it was up? She couldn’t work out which way it was travelling because it seemed to be everywhere all at once.

‘Idiot!’ she muttered, finally managing to drag the top over her head. Undoing her belt with cold, shaking fingers, she began to wrestle her way out of the stiff, soggy denim of her drenched jeans. Yuck!

No… she wouldn’t linger on how good Luke had looked, still slightly damp, with soap bubbles on his chin. She didn’t know anything about him. As nice as he looked… and as nice as he seemed… men just weren’t on her agenda right now.

‘Won’t hurt to get to know him, though,’ she whispered, turning to glance in a small mirror that was propped up above the washbasin. ‘Oh no!’ she gasped, spotting dark smudges where her mascara had melted down her face. She should have known, given the fact that she’d basically bathed in rain and tears on her way over. It wasn’t like she ever wore bloomin’ mascara, either. She’d only put some on in an attempt to look a little bit less unkempt for her first day at work!

Maggie stuffed the plug into the sink and ran some hot water into the basin. Then she used her cupped hands to rinse her face, revelling in the delicious warmth, before grabbing her already-damp towel and using one corner to wipe away the worst of the mascara smudges.

Giving her hair another vigorous rub, she did her best to comb it out with her fingers before pulling it into a plait. Then she twisted it into a bun for good measure, securing the whole lot with a hairband. She doubted Luke would have a hairdryer lying around, so at least this would stop it from instantly making a wet patch on her lovely dry clothes.

‘Hey Maggie?’

The light knock on the door made her jump.

‘Yeah?’ she squeaked, grabbing the towel and holding it up to her front as though Luke might barge his way in. Which – of course – was stupid!

‘When you’re done, could you grab that bottle of wine?’ he said. ‘I think you’ve earned a glass!’

‘Okay!’ she said, her voice coming out ridiculously high and quivery. ‘Will do!’

Wine might not be the best plan considering her less-than-stable emotions right now… but she hadn’t had a glass in ages. Frankly, after the day she’d just had… why not?