room if you are going to invite your friends to stay. You can put one in there and one in here, if you don’t mind giving up your room for a couple of nights?’
A weight he hadn’t been aware of lifted from his shoulders and he wanted to drag her into his arms and hold her tight, but it seemed too intimate given their location. ‘That would work. The sofa did me fine for the first week. I can camp out on it for a couple of days while the guys are here. Are you sure you don’t mind me inviting them down?’
‘I don’t mind.’ She laughed. ‘I actually don’t. I’ve been cocooned in this place for so long, I forgot what it was like to enjoy the thought of company. Once we’ve finished the beach room, we could look at converting one of the other rooms on the top floor for you to use. Once we have paying guests, you won’t want to be on the same floor as them; you’ll never get any peace. And I like the idea of having you close.’ She said it so calmly, it took him a moment to register the significance. In opening her private space to him, she was offering him a permanent home. A place to belong and set down roots.
He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. ‘If you’re sure?’
‘We’d have to share the bathroom, and only the bathroom for now, but if you don’t leave the seat up it should be fine.’ Her jaw cracked around a huge yawn. ‘Sorry.’
He smiled and tucked the quilt around her. She hadn’t made any move to return to her own room and he liked the idea of keeping her close, even if it was just for one night. ‘Don’t be. Let’s get some sleep and tomorrow will be a better day.’
She wriggled around, turning from one side to the other, taking more and more of the quilt with her each time she shifted. Maybe sharing a bed wasn’t such a great idea. Waiting until she finally settled, he risked a surreptitious tug on one corner to claim just enough of the duvet to cover himself and turned on his side to face her. He bit his lip against the urge to laugh. There was little more of her visible than the top of her head. ‘’Night, pet,’ he murmured.
‘’Night Daniel,’ she replied from the muffled depths of the bed.
A sharp pain digging in her ribs woke Mia and she tugged at the tight band of her bra. Her knickers had formed an uncomfortable wedge in places unmentionable, and it took a moment of confusion before she remembered why she’d fallen asleep in her underwear. She froze, one finger hooked in the elastic of her pants, and held her breath. Slow, even sounds came from her left and she peeked over the top of the quilt. Daniel sprawled on his back beside her, one arm flung above his head and a hairy leg hooked over his side of the covers.
His chest rose and fell in an easy motion, the T-shirt he’d kept on moulded to his frame. Broader than Jamie through the shoulders, she noted, followed by a quick wash of guilt. She shouldn’t be comparing the two of them. There should be no comparison between the man she’d loved for ten years and this relative stranger.
The bathroom light shone dimly in the early-morning gloom, evidence neither of them had stirred in the night. Feeling awkward, although they’d done nothing more than sleep together, she inched out of the bed and slid to the floor in a crouch. Not wanting to risk waking him, she collected her jeans and tiptoed towards the door.
An errant floorboard creaked beneath her foot and she stopped, one leg raised like Wile E. Coyote trying to sneak up on the Road Runner. Daniel snuffled, rolled on his side and thankfully went back to sleep. A huge snore rent the air and she used the sound to cover the low click when she opened the bedroom door. Taking care to stay quiet, she scurried down the stairs and closed the kitchen door behind her with a sigh of relief.
Cold tiles nipped at her toes, so she scrambled into her jeans and stuffed her feet into her cosy boots. A quick peek through the kitchen window showed the first pink-red streaks of a dawn that promised a fine day. She made a cup of tea, poured it into a travel mug. Bright it might be, but the air still held a sharp nip so she bundled up in her coat and a hat and carried her drink outside.
Overgrown shrubs and bushes formed strange shapes in the early-morning light. She picked her way carefully towards the steps leading to the beach to avoid any brambles waiting to snare an unwitting foot. She could hear the sea before she saw it, the dark water merging too closely with the sand to make out. It was close to high tide, so she chose a spot up near the small dunes edging the beach and sat with her legs crossed.
Pale pinks, soft oranges and a deeper red striped across the grey sky, the colours brightening with each passing minute. The ocean grew visible next, leaving lines of foamy bubbles to be swallowed up by the next rolling waves. Clouds seemed to boil from the horizon, edged in crimson and shades of fuchsia. Letting the wonder of nature fill her eyes, Mia sipped her tea and gathered her thoughts.
Sneaking away from Daniel’s bed seemed a bit cowardly and she hoped he wouldn’t be offended to find her gone when he woke. From a safe distance, she could admit to herself it hadn’t only been guilty feelings over Jamie that had driven her from the warmth of the sheets. Being next to Daniel had felt right and it scared her. After Jamie, she’d never thought she might care for another man again, and she wasn’t quite ready to let Jamie go.
Sunday mornings had been her favourite part of the week. Long, lazy hours spent reading the papers, grazing over breakfast and snuggling back down for sweet caresses. They’d grown up together, first and only lovers, finding their way around each other’s bodies until they knew every spot to draw a gasp or a sigh.
What would it be like to let someone else that close? What if she didn’t like the way Daniel touched her, what if he proved a better lover than Jamie? She wasn’t sure which would be worse. Stop it. Stop it. There was no point in torturing herself over things that might not even come to pass.
The pale disc of the sun crested the horizon, chasing away the blaze of colours into the pale blue of full morning. A chill crept into her bones from the damp sand, soaking through the layers of her coat. Not quite willing to drag herself away from the view, Mia raised the cup to her lips, surprised to find it empty. Seagulls swooped and danced in the sky overhead, their raucous cries breaking the silence. A shiver ran through her, the cold striking deep enough to force her into motion.
She needed to call her dad, finish their conversation from the previous night, and Madeline and Richard would be along soon as well. Time wouldn’t stop for her; she knew from bitter experience that life went on whether she was ready for it or not. Things changed and a new direction lay open before her.
Daniel was a fixture in her life now and she couldn’t imagine living here at Butterfly Cove without the sound of his deep voice calling down the hall to her. His warm presence at her table had become a necessity, making her smile as he scoffed down whatever meal she put before him with the same alacrity and gratitude whether it be a ham sandwich or a full Sunday roast. His plans for the barn were exciting too; nothing she would have ever thought of herself. She scrambled up, eager to see the place from the new perspective he’d given her.
The door to the kitchen creaked, drawing her attention towards it, and she waved Daniel into the room when he stuck his head through the gap. She turned her attention back to the phone. It was still early, but her dad liked to get to his office before students started knocking and ruining his train of thought. She pictured him behind the big oak desk, which would be covered with precarious stacks of papers and books. His study at home had been worse, a no-go zone for them as girls in case they made a mess of the filing system only he seemed to understand.
‘I didn’t mean to upset you,’ he said again, sounding thoroughly
