He saw the impact of his words in the dimming of her eyes, in the stiffness of her shoulders. He kicked himself, while at the same time acknowledging that his sarcasm was still better than what he wanted to do: turn and sprint for the hills.
It was stupid not to have anticipated this moment. He should have left her to her unpacking and made himself scarce instead of hanging around like a blowfly waiting for her to smile again. Now he either had to forever position himself as a jerk in her mind or walk into the room he’d found his father in.
‘Sorry,’ she said, clipped, frosty and calm. ‘You must have things to do. I’ll be fine.’
He knew that. If he hadn’t been here, she would have managed. All she had to do was take a few things out of the heaviest boxes. She didn’t actually need the help. Whether she knew it or not, she’d been making overtures of friendship since she’d walked in his front door with her paltry belongings two nights ago.
And he’d just thrown it back in her face.
Suck it up, kid. The voice in his imagination was a hybrid of his father’s and his own.
‘Kate, wait.’ He stopped her as she would have turned completely away. ‘That was a bad joke. I’m sorry.’
‘No.’ She shook his hand free, her eyes low. ‘You’ve been more than generous with your offer of lab space and a room. I don’t want to take advantage any more than—’
Grant silenced her by bending and intentionally taking the biggest of the equipment boxes. ‘Can you get the door?’ While he had an armful of box, he couldn’t operate the remote; something told him that was a button-press he simply could not make.
Even if Kate was with him.
That thought brought his head up sharply. Since when had Grant ‘the Closer’ McMurtrie needeed someone to hold his hand? Since never. But, as he watched Kate’s delicate indexfinger activate the remote control and that enormous door began to rumble upwards, he’d never in his life been so grateful for the presence of another human being.
With no chance of stopping himself, he moved one step closer to Kate. Sweat broke out across his top lip.
‘Oh, it’s fabulous!’ She swept in ahead of him, into the large, open space. His heart pounded against his ribs and he forced his feet into action. Alan had rallied some volunteers to tow his father’s car away and help clean the garage out after his death. Only the mayor had known the significance of what they were doing. The resulting space was clean, empty and entirely innocent of the terrible thing that had happened here. The garage was as much a victim of his father’s decision as all of them.
It was due a reinvention.
‘Will this do?’ Only those who knew him best would spot the slight break in his voice.
‘Do? It’s perfect. It’s fully plumbed.’ Kate moved around the large space, checking out the features. ‘It has a fridge.’
‘Dad’s old beer-fridge.’ Beer and, for some reason, bowls of the most disgusting liquid covered in damp tea-towels and foaming away beneath a pancake layer of thick fungi. ‘I think Dad was working on his own laboratory experiment in here.’
At Kate’s quizzical look, he explained what he had found. Not when or why, but what.
Her face softened. ‘Kombucha tea. I’m glad he finally gave it a try. I put him onto it.’
‘What tea?’
‘Kombucha. It’s a fungus. It grows on the top and the tea below ferments and forms a naturopathic cider. It’s good for you.’
‘I can’t imagine how. It looked and smelled disgusting. I imagine the only thing it was good for was the compost heap.’
Why the hell had a grumpy, acerbic old farmer been talking herbal recipes with a gorgeous greenie? How much had the man changed in twenty years? And what kind of a relationship had he had with Kate Dickson? Every conversation Grant had with her led him to imagine the two of them had been more than just business colleagues.
Friends.
Kate’s enthusiasm for her new lab chased more of the shadows away from this place; she was just so excited. But still she turned to him, eager to give him a last chance, presumably.
‘You’re sure you don’t want to use this for your Jeep?’
Not in a million years. ‘It’s all yours. Just don’t blow anything up.’
‘I think you’re over-imagining what kind of work we do here. It’s mostly microscopes and sifting.’
Ah, yes—the vomit. Charming.
Wide brown eyes turned to him. ‘You’re welcome to come in and have a look any time you want.’
He crunched his nose as she turned back to the mountainous boxes. ‘Don’t be offended if I pass.’ For more reasons than one. He couldn’t imagine himself ever getting comfortable in here.
Kate smiled as she hauled more boxes into the lab.
This really was perfect. She couldn’t imagine why Grant wouldn’t want to keep his precious car in here, but his loss was her gain. She’d downplayed the difference having an on-site lab would make to her program, because he was still so sensitive to their progress and because his offer really was a gift from the research gods. The truth was it would make an enormous difference to their ability to process samples and with the hours saved she could dedicate some time to searching up the coast for the seals’ primary breeding-site.
All she needed was a boat. And someone to sail it.
How hard could that be to find in a fishing community? First chance she got, she’d head into town and see who she could rustle up. Things were beginning to go her way again. Kate could feel rightness returning to the world.
‘So when do farming lessons begin?’
His voice was still tight but his body looked more relaxed than when he’d first entered. You’d have thought he was being escorted to the gallows. She’d given him one last chance to opt out if he was that reluctant to have her lab in his house—or maybe to help her project out, after all—but he hadn’t taken it. And, although he’d been painful about helping her move her stuff in, he was certainly applying himself and all those compounding muscles admirably to the task. Super-quick, in fact. Like he couldn’t wait to get out of here.
Kate sighed. It would be easy to trust him and believe that he had the Atlas colony’s interests at heart; that he was trying to offer a compromise that meant they both got what they needed. But at the end of the day that was navïely futile. No way could they both walk away from this situation equally happy. Grant was going through the motions out of courtesy, but everything in his manner said he couldn’t wait to be out of here. After the rocky start they’d had, courtesy was something, but just because she was starting to like the man didn’t mean it was mutual.
This was Leo all over again. Look how long it had taken him to warm to her—although once he had it had almost been like becoming family. When the McMurtrie men bonded, they really bonded.
Which was not something she should be thinking in Grant McMurtrie’s presence. Not when he stood between her and her nicely ordered world, her nicely ordered future.
So when should farming lessons begin—if at all?
‘Without the travelling time I should have a few hours each evening,’ she said carefully. Dinner. Conversation. The intricacies of sheep castration. Nice and neutral. ‘Could that work for you?’
‘Night school …’ Jade eyes considered her. ‘I like it. It’ll fill those long evenings.’
Right. Another subtle reminder that this was business to him. As it should