Max found he had slept for almost eight hours, a glance at his wrist-watch telling him it was almost seven o’clock.
Way past time for taking January—or anyone else!—a cup of tea in bed!
He smiled as he imagined May’s indignation if he had arrived in the sisters’ bedrooms with the suggested morning tea. Whatever had prompted the eldest Calendar sister to invite him to dinner last night, May had definitely changed her mind about the wisdom of that invitation by the time she’d come looking for January in this bedroom later in the evening.
Wisely so, Max acknowledged with a self-derisive grimace.
No matter what he did, how hard he tried to keep a distance between himself and January, to concentrate on the business side of their relationship rather than the personal, he invariably ended up kissing her instead!
Maybe—
He heard a door slam downstairs, followed by muffled noises outside, evidence that the sisters were indeed up and about. And May, at least, was no doubt frowning disapprovingly about his own tardiness in getting up!
She was also right about the coldness of the farmhouse, he discovered a few minutes later as he hurriedly dresse d before going to the bathroom across the hall, the tiles in there ultra cold on his sock-covered feet.
And the most he had to compare this cold discomfort with was the times he went skiing, when he spent his evenings and nights in a wonderfully warm ski lodge, his days wrapped up warmly as he skied the slopes. Hardly any comparison at all!
You’re getting soft, Golding, he told himself disgustedly, at the same time acknowledging that he was ill-equipped to survive in conditions like these. Which also made him wonder why on earth the Calendar sisters would want to…!
Only May and March were in evidence when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later, this room much warmer than the rest of the house, Max realized thankfully.
‘Coffee?’ March offered abruptly as she held up the steaming pot invitingly.
‘Thanks.’ He nodded distractedly, aware of May’s brooding silence as she sat at the kitchen table drinking her own warm brew, studiously ignoring him, it seemed.
‘Help yourself to milk and sugar,’ March told him dismissively as she placed a mug of coffee on the table for him. ‘In case you’re wondering, January is over in the shed dealing with early milking,’ she added dryly.
Was he really that obvious? Max wondered with a scowl. Probably, he conceded heavily. To January’s sisters, at least…
‘Now that we’ve cleared the drifts away from the doors and a path over to the shed,’ May put in pointedly.
While he lingered in his bed trying to build up the courage to get out of the warmth of the bedclothes into the cold of the room, May implied, but didn’t actually say.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ he offered—and as quickly realized how ridiculous he sounded; what on earth did he know about any of the workings of a farm?
March obviously found the offer just as ridiculous, giving a wry smile. ‘Stay out of everyone’s way?’ she suggested scathingly.
Feeling inadequate did not sit easily on Max’s shoulders; having it pointed out to him by the more outspoken of the Calendar sisters only made it worse!
He stood up noisily. ‘I think I’ll just go over anyway and see if there’s anything I can do for January.’
May sat back, looking at him derisively. ‘I think you’ve already done enough for her, don’t you?’ she murmured enigmatically.
Max’s gaze narrowed on her speculatively as he pulled on his heavy jacket. Obviously whatever headway he had made with May yesterday had been completely voided by having January linger in the bedroom with him last night, May definitely back to her old protective self.
Family disapproval was also something Max had never encountered before—mainly because he had never so much as suggested meeting any of the family of the women he had been involved with over the years!
God, he really had to get out of here. And not just the farmhouse, either!
Which may prove a little difficult, he discovered on opening the door; May really hadn’t been joking about the snowdrifts! They were as high as four feet along the side of the shed and the hedgerow of the track up here to the house.
‘Our uncle—Sara’s father—is going to come up from the road and clear it later this morning,’ March assured him with a mocking grin—obviously having enjoyed the look of dismay on his face for several minutes first.
Max didn’t even bother to reply as he closed the door behind him, pausing in the porch to pull on his walking boots before staggering across to the cow shed. And it really was staggering, the ground extremely slippery underfoot. But at least the snow seemed to have stopped falling.
Quite what he had expected once inside the shed, he really had no idea. But it certainly wasn’t to hear the sounds of the electric milking machines—or to see January as he had never seen her before!
Faded denims were tucked into knee-high wellington boots, a coat that looked several sizes too big for her reaching warmly down to her knees, a scarf muffled up about her face, her ebony hair all but hidden beneath a multicoloured woolen hat.
Grey eyes—the only part of her face visible!—were full of laughter as she looked up and saw his astounded expression.
She pulled the scarf down from over her mouth, grinning ruefully. ‘See what I mean about the impracticality of love at first sight!’ she derided.
Max recovered quickly, the beautiful grey eyes the same, as was her smile. ‘This certainly beats the toothpaste tube and the bare feet,’ he acknowledged dryly, moving further into the shed.
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