‘I asked you to get off my land!’
He stopped and turned in one motion, and was surprised to find himself almost nose to nose with her. She just about matched his height at six foot two, but then she had the advantage of heels and was standing on a slope.
She stepped back but her eyes lost none of their ferocity.
He didn’t have time for mood swings and tantrums. He had more than he could handle of those from his ex at the moment. That was why coming to Whitehaven was such a good distraction on a Sunday afternoon. It soothed him.
He looked Miss High-and-Mighty right back in the eyes. ‘And I’m getting off your land as fast as I can.’ Even though he had a strange sense that she was the trespasser. She was the one spoiling the peace and quiet of this perfect spot.
Her lips pressed together in a pout. One that might have been quite appealing if he weren’t so angry with her for being here. ‘The road is that way.’ She jerked a thumb in the direction of the drive.
‘I know.’ He deliberately didn’t elaborate for a few seconds. Just because he was feeling unusually awkward, although, in the back of his mind, he knew she was bearing the brunt of his frustration with someone else. But the woman in front of him was cut from the same cloth—expensive designer cloth, by the look of it—and he just couldn’t seem to stem his reaction. He took a deep breath. ‘My boat is tied up down by the boathouse.’
He blinked, waiting for more of her frosty words.
‘I have a boathouse?’ Once again, the tide had changed and she was suddenly back to being wistful and dreamy and far too beautiful to be real. That just got his goat even more. When she spoke again she was staring off into the bare treetops above his head. ‘It’s real? It wasn’t just a film set?’
He shrugged and set off down the path and his features hardened as he heard her following him.
‘Now what? I’m going, okay?’ he called out, only half-turning to let the words drift over his shoulder.
‘I want to see my boathouse.’
Ben normally loved the walk back down the hill on an autumn afternoon, but today it was totally ruined for him. He couldn’t appreciate the beauty of the leaves ranging from pale yellow to deep crimson. He didn’t even stop to watch the trails of smoke snaking from the cottages of Lower Hadwell, just across the river. All he could hear were the footsteps behind him. All he could see—even though she was directly behind him and completely out of sight—was a pair of intense, dark eyes looking scornfully at him. It wasn’t a moment too soon when he spotted the uneven stone steps that led down to the jetty.
As he reached the top step he heard a loud gasp behind him. Instinctively, he turned and put out a hand to steady her. But she hadn’t stumbled; she hadn’t even registered his impulsive offer of help. She stood with her hands over her mouth and her eyes shining. Great. Now it was time for the waterworks. He was out of here.
As quickly as he could, he made his way to where his boat was tied and started untying the rope, busily ignoring her slow descent of all the steps behind him. Just as he was about to step off the jetty and into the dinghy his mobile phone chimed in his back pocket. He would have ignored it, but it was Megan’s ring tone. Something might have happened to their daughter.
And, since she was standing within reaching distance, not doing much but staring at the old stone boathouse, he slapped the end of the rope into the frosty woman’s hands and dug around in his jeans pocket for his phone.
‘Dad?’ Not Megan, but Jasmine.
‘What’s up, Jellybean?’
There was a snort on the other end of the line. ‘Do you have to keep calling me that? I’m almost twelve. It’s hardly dignified.’
Ben’s brows lowered over his eyes. Less than twenty-four hours out of his custody and she was already starting to sound like her mother. ‘What’s up, Jas?’
‘Mum says she can’t drop me off this evening. She’s got something on. Can you come and get me?’
Ben looked at his watch. Jasmine had been due back at five. It was past three now. ‘What time?’ Maybe it was just as well he’d had to leave Whitehaven early. It would take all of that time to cross the river, walk back to the cottage and drive the ten miles to Totnes.
He waited while his daughter had a muffled conference with her mother.
‘Mum says she has to be out by four.’
Ben found himself striding along the jetty in front of the boathouse. ‘I can’t do it, Jas.’ He kept walking while Jasmine relayed the information back to Megan. And when he reached the end of the jetty he turned and went back the way he’d come.
‘Mum says she wants to talk to you.’
There was a clattering while the phone changed hands. Ben steeled himself.
‘Ben? I can’t believe you’re being difficult about this! I know you’re still angry with me for moving on, but this kind of behaviour is just childish.’
He opened his mouth to explain there was nothing difficult about not doing the physically impossible, but Megan didn’t give him a chance.
‘Everything always has to be on your terms, doesn’t it?’ she said in that weary, self-righteous tone she seemed to have adopted recently. ‘You’d do just about anything to sabotage my new life, wouldn’t you? But I’m not coming back, Ben. I can’t.’
It had taken a while to get there, but Ben really didn’t want her back any more. Not that Megan was ever going to believe that. Her ego had puffed up far too much since she’d found her ‘freedom’ to allow that.
His voice was more of a growl than he’d intended when it emerged from his mouth. ‘I do hope you are not letting our daughter overhear this. She doesn’t need to witness any more arguments.’
Megan gave a heavy sigh. ‘That’s right. Change the subject, as always!’ Still, he got the distinct impression she had moved into the hallway as her voice suddenly got more echoey.
‘Megan, I’m at Whitehaven. This has nothing to do with sabotage and everything to do with being too far away to get there by four o’clock.’
He waited. He could almost see the pout on his ex’s face. And, as he found himself back by his boat, he noticed a similar expression on the woman standing there watching him. He abruptly turned again and carried on pacing. Not exactly the same expression. The lips were fuller, softer.
‘Fine! Well, if you’re not going to make the effort to come and get her, I’ll just have to take her with me. I’m having supper with … a friend. I’ll drop her back at eight.’
And with that, Megan ended the call. He was tempted to hurl his phone into the slate-grey waves. This is what that woman did to him—riled him up until he couldn’t think straight, until he was tempted to do foolish things. And he never did foolish things.
He jabbed at a button to lock the keypad then stuffed his phone back in his pocket. Then he marched back to his boat.
‘Thanks a lot for giving me some privacy,’ he said dryly as he got within a few feet of the glowering woman on the jetty.
She gave him what his grandmother had used to call an ‘old-fashioned look’ and waggled the end of the rope from side to side. Incredible! How did the woman manage to make a gesture sarcastic?
‘You didn’t give me much choice, did you?’ she said.
Ben ran his hands through his wind-tousled hair and made himself breathe out for a count of five. He had to remember that this wasn’t the woman