Away With the Fairies (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 2)

Good Night

She could feel the heat of his body, through her sweatshirt and his jumper, where his chest was pressed to her stomach, and his arms wrapped around her hips.

Take a breath, Fiona. And stop staring at him. God, why is this so... physical? So poignant.

Stop drawing it out. Speak up.

"I wasn't– I wasn't falling actually," she said.

He released her immediately, and leaned his weight on his left hand pressed into the table, and awkwardly stepped back.

"Sorry," he said.

"Thank you," she said at the same time. "For what? You were saving me from a potential concussion."

She stretched up to the mugs and picked up two. He took them out of her hands. They made tea together, and sat down in front of each other.

Odd. Why is the silence suddenly so uncomfortable? When they'd been eating, she'd felt at ease. He'd seemed content as well. Maybe, it's just you, Fiona, and your sensitivities. It's not like he's ever shown any proclivity to chattering. Maybe, he's perfectly happy to just drink his brew.

"So, what do you paint?" he asked and looked up at her from her mug.

Maybe not.

"Fairies," she answered and laughed nervously. "And sprites. Pixies. I never studied art, you see. I just always painted, because of my Mum and My Nana. But I took online courses, and then I found out that Hertfordshire and Aberdeen offer the most interesting programs in folklore studies, so I enrolled in distance education courses and got my degree. And because my Nana–"

She realised she once again had blathered about something no one was interested to listen about, and she closed her mouth. Daft Airy-Fairy.

"What about your Nana?" he asked, taking a sip of his tea.

"Um–" Does he sincerely want to know, or is he just asking out of politeness? Although, when did he try to be polite, really? "She was into that sort of thing."

Probably shouldn't mention her coven, heh, Fiona?

He nodded silently.

"And you? What do you do?" she asked.

He swallowed his drink and slowly put the mug down.

"Nothing," he answered and rose.

Fiona frowned. She wanted to tell him that no one did 'nothing' - but of course she didn't. He added the mug to the pile of dishes in the sink.

"I'll do washing up tomorrow," he threw over his shoulder and walked out of the kitchen.

Fiona finished her tea, loaded the dishwasher, and went upstairs. On the way, she saw he was back on the sofa in his headphones. This time there was a book in his hands.

***

In the bedroom she took out her laptop from the suitcase and checked her emails. There was nothing from Nate. She checked her mobile. Since his answer a few hours ago, which as usual consisted of one word 'OK,' there was nothing. Fiona sighed. He knew how much she hated these curt answers. Surely he knows how guilty you feel. Does he have to continue punishing you? It's not like she was asking for any encouraging messages, but just not to make her life even more stressful right now would surely help.

There was a missed call from John Holyoake, and he left a voice message. Fiona dialled and listened to him once again apologise for the misunderstanding. He was assuring her the situation would be resolved in no time, and that he would make sure she was given the 'privacy she required.' This means he'll try to kick his brother out of this cottage. Fiona groaned and rubbed her temples. Now, she felt guilty for this too. After all, there isn't anything particularly unpleasant in cohabitating with Axe Holyoake, right?