To Love and To Cherish. Jennie Adams

the spurt of water. ‘It won’t affect the water supply to the milking shed or the water troughs, and the cottage tank is already full.’

      But the main was several kilometres away, further into the property, beyond all the groupings of work sheds, which meant they needed to do something about this right now.

      A puddle already covered a large area of ground in every direction. Tiffany waded into the muck, gave thanks for her sensible boots even if the gumboots of this morning would have been better, and positioned herself on the non-geysering side of the water flow. Jack quickly joined her, and they examined the pipe more closely.

      ‘We should be able to close it—or near to.’ His blue eyes locked on hers. ‘Have you got stockings at the cottage? Or anything else stretchy and long enough to tie around?’

      ‘Um, I have some stockings, and a pair of black stretch leggings from when I went through my yoga phase two years ago.’

      ‘Great.’ He gave a sharp nod.

      ‘I’ll get them.’ She hurried to the cottage, helped herself to the required goods, and ran all the way back.

      Slightly out of breath, she handed the items to Jack. ‘How will we do this?’

      He ran the pairs of stockings through his hands, seemed to realise what he had just done, and stopped abruptly. ‘These are single legs. I thought they’d be put together already. I mean—’

      ‘You mean pantyhose? I prefer thigh-highs.’ And she had to muzzle herself right now, before she started to explain the pros and cons of ladies’ personal undergarments. That really wouldn’t be a good idea. ‘What do you want me to do?’

      He returned the Lycra leggings to her. ‘Tie these around your waist for the moment. If we need them, we’ll use them, but we’ll try the stockings first.’

      He positioned himself close to the pipe. ‘We’ll try to get the pipe mostly closed with the stockings. If that doesn’t work, or if it’s not enough, we’ll go for the leggings, as well. I’ll wind the first couple of layers around and then we’ll take an end each and pull as hard as we can.’

      It took a few futile attempts before they got the right angle and the right amount of pressure and managed to almost close the split in the pipe. By then Tiffany was soaked from crown to feet. Jack had fared a little better, but water dripped down his face and plastered one side of his shirt against him.

      The moment he noticed her gaze on him there, he tugged the shirt away from his body in a movement that was almost protective. He turned away to gather up the couple of stockings they’d dropped in the mud in their haste as they tried to get the leak sealed. ‘Hopefully what we’ve done will hold until we can reach the main and shut it off. We could have driven straight there, but a lot more water would have been lost that way.’

      ‘I know. It was the right choice.’ She turned towards the machinery shed where the farm vehicles were stored. ‘We can go in the utility truck.’

      Jack shook his head. ‘I’ve got a full tool kit in the back of the Jeep. Let’s get back to the cottage and take it. That way we’ll have tools on hand if we run into any further troubles at the main.’

      A fair enough idea. It would probably take just as long to assemble the right tools at the shed. But it struck her as odd when he told her to change her clothes at the cottage before they got in the Jeep.

      Since an argument would waste more time, she did as he asked, but once they were in the Jeep and driving past all the sheds towards the main, she in a dry T-shirt and jeans and Jack in his existing jeans and a dry button-down shirt with yet more of the large front pockets that he seemed to favour these days, she pointed out the facts. ‘We could have changed later. It’s a warm day, no risk of getting a chill. Surely the water is more important?’

      What was it with him and his shirt pockets, anyway? Had he suddenly taken to carrying around a barrage of goods with him or something? Not that she had seen any evidence of that since he arrived.

      ‘It only took a minute, and I—I mean, you were very wet.’ He didn’t look at her, didn’t change his tone of voice, didn’t do anything but continue to drive ahead with his jaw clenched tight.

      ‘There’s the main.’ Jack brought the Jeep to a stop and they climbed out.

      They were able to shut it off without any difficulty. She wished she could shut off her concerns about them renewing their relationship as easily, but she couldn’t. They drove back, cleaned up around the storage tank, and went on finally to the cottage.

      Tension wrapped around them as they stepped inside. It showed in the way he masked his gaze as he looked at her. In the elevated beat of her heart as she tried not to look too closely back.

      To cover her discomfort, she said the first thing that came into her head. ‘It really did surprise me to see you’d cut your hair so short. I never expected to find you with a military-style cut.’

      ‘Everyone changes hairstyles from time to time. I told you—I haven’t changed.’ He almost growled the words, and shutters slapped down over his expression. ‘Is there anything else you want done outside before we call it quits for the day?’

      His attitude definitely was protective, guarded. She would even say perhaps secretive. Why? Did he think if he relaxed with her she would throw herself at him? Tiffany’s eyes narrowed. Again, this was proof they needed a frank and open discussion to make things clear between them.

      ‘There’s always more to be done, but it can all wait until tomorrow.’ It might not be what he wanted to hear, but she wouldn’t make a workhorse out of him. There were limits, even when a person had volunteered to assist.

      Jack dipped his head. ‘I’ll phone Denise, then. Ask how Ron got along today.’

      Tiffany had wanted to broach an entirely different topic, but she nodded and turned away. It was important to hear how Ron was getting along. Things weren’t exactly running smoothly around here so far, but despite the farm-related hiccups she still had hope that she could present her parents with a good overall result when they got back.

      Try, try and try again. It was what she had done as a child with her birth mother, although nothing had ever been enough.

      That was then. This is a completely different situation, and the only reason you care about it is because you naturally want to do a good job of things.

      Right. And the situation with Jack was different again. She would figure out how to deal with that, too.

      She set about preparing the meal.

      Jack stepped back into the kitchen and declared that Ron was fine. ‘Denise kept me talking with gossip for a few minutes.’

      ‘She does like a bit of a chat. I’m glad to hear Ron is doing okay.’

      After the strained silence interspersed with uneasy small talk that had comprised their dinner break Jack took first shower. Tiffany hurried through hers next, to get away from the too-enticing scent of his shampoo and soap. She stepped back into the house in her summer pyjamas with a satin robe tied over. Her hair hung in damp tendrils down her back.

      In that first moment as she moved into the kitchen Jack paused from sipping his tea at the bench and looked at her as a man who was utterly aware of her.

      She didn’t mistake it or misread it. She was certain of that. As a result, shock coursed through her—shock, and a burst of unwelcome hope. Why did he look at her that way? She didn’t understand.

      Then Jack blinked, and there was nothing at all, and she doubted herself all over again. Maybe she’d made the whole thing up. It had happened before—much to her embarrassment.

      Jack took a sip of his tea. He wore similar jeans and shirt to those he’d had on when they’d turned off the water main. A fitted shirt showed beneath. He obviously planned to sleep in that, and perhaps he had shorts or boxers on under the jeans.

      Maybe