The Butterfly Cove Collection. Sarah Bennett

      He shoved his sweaty hair from his forehead, leaving a thick streak of dirt on his skin. ‘Feeling better?’ He tried to approach her, but the tarp had tangled around his body and he couldn’t seem to kick free of the weight of the material. Mia moved forward to help, but he held his hand up to stop her. ‘I wouldn’t come over here. This thing is bloody filthy.’ He shoved and twisted until he finally untangled himself in another cloud of dust and dirt. He scrubbed his hands on the front of his sweater and closed the distance between them. Mia took an involuntary step back.

      ‘Off out then?’ He nodded at the keys dangling between her fingers.

      ‘Wh…what? Oh, umm, yeah just into town to grab a few bits and pieces. I want to follow up on some of those ideas we talked about for the back bedroom…’ Her words trailed off as she remembered that moment of innocent happiness sitting between his raised knees looking at colour cards and material swatches in her notebook. Barely an hour had passed since then and yet her world axis had lurched into an entirely different orbit.

      Covered in dust, a huge streak of dirt across one cheek, which had a sweat trail cutting through it from his temple to his throat, he’d never looked sexier. The contrast between their sizes struck her. It would be so easy to step forward and let him wrap her up in his warm arms. Her upper body swayed forward unconsciously and he took a step nearer as though drawn like a magnet before stopping abruptly. She hovered, helpless for a moment then span on her heel and rushed from the barn, not stopping until she was cocooned in the safety of her car.

      ‘Shit, shit, shit!’ Mia banged her hand on the steering wheel in frustration as she fumbled uselessly with the other hand, trying in vain to get the key into the ignition. She pressed the back of her skull into the headrest and closed her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she held it before exhaling slowly to calm down.

      She was acting like a fool, she knew, but the feelings Daniel stirred in her were so unsettling. He was a good man, thoughtful, kind, and she couldn’t deny good-looking too. She’d been on her own for so long, maybe she just missed being with someone and she’d latched on to him because he was there.

      Until she could sort things out in her head, it would be best to ignore the idea of a connection. To act before she was sure would be disastrous, and he deserved better. A bit of distance and distraction would do them both a power of good. She opened her eyes, tilted her head so that she could see to guide the key into the ignition and fired up the engine.

      She drew in another deep breath to find her centre as she tugged her seat belt across her body and engaged it firmly into the slot. She would not drive whilst upset; she owed it to Jamie’s memory to not risk an accident. Another breath and a quick flick of her eyes to the rear-view mirror assured her Daniel was still in the barn and hadn’t witnessed her foolish behaviour. She eased her car into first gear and bumped along the driveway and away into town.

Chapter Ten

      Daniel wiped his paintbrush on the rag hanging at his waist before dropping it onto the newspaper beneath his feet. He stretched the kinks that had worked into his back over the past few hours of stooping awkwardly to paint the skirting in the beach room. That is what both he and Mia were calling it and it was starting to come together.

      Jordy had been in to measure up and was working on a frame for the daybed that would fill the bay window. The base of the bed would incorporate shelves, which Mia planned to fill with books and also with random treasures gathered from walks along the shoreline.

      A trip to the local junk emporium had yielded a bag of shells, which she’d glued around the frame of the large pine mirror they planned to hang over the bed, facing the window. The bedroom furniture was all made of a similar basic pine, which Mia had painted white and then distressed to give a bleached out, weathered effect.

      The skirting boards and picture rail were coated in brilliant white gloss and the walls above the rail were duck-egg blue with a deeper azure shade covering the lower half. The floorboards had been stripped and sanded, a hellish job with a beast of a machine they had hired from the local DIY merchants.

      It was filthy out. Daniel eyed the glowering clouds scudding across the sky as another fierce squall rattled rain against the window. On days like this, it was hard to imagine the vista would ever reflect the soft summer calm of the beach room colour scheme. The weather had closed in almost a week ago and they were both feeling a bit stir-crazy. Neither had spoken of their embrace, but a simmering tension lay between them.

      Trying to ignore his attraction to her proved useless and he couldn’t stop finding little excuses to touch her, hoping to see an answering need in her eyes. There was nothing overt or sexual in his actions: a pat on the hand to thank her for another glorious home-cooked meal, a gentle brush of shoulders as they surveyed the design notes for the room, a paint smear wiped from her cheek. He needed to touch her, to reassure himself the ethereal little woman was real. That his presence in her life and her home wasn’t a fever dream.

      His gaze moved across the rear garden towards the barn, drawn again to the plans that were slowly forming in his mind’s eye.

      The basic structure was sound and the huge windows that faced towards the beach were a marvel once he had uncovered them. A huge run of light, the entire length of the wall. He could see the place divided into working units, perfect spaces for creative studios. He knew of at least a dozen of his artistic contacts in town who would relish a clean, quiet environment to recharge their batteries. The ever-changing sky and seascape would be a source of inspiration.

      Daniel was a prime example of what could happen if someone with an artistic temperament didn’t take good care of themselves and their talent. He hadn’t discussed it with Mia yet, but he would soon. He wanted to talk to Aaron about the project too, get his input and assistance in putting some numbers together. His best friend’s younger brother, Luke, was an architect who was developing a solid reputation, stylish without the desire to over-engineer everything. If he could get them both down for a weekend to look over the barn and take some measurements, maybe Luke could make a start on drawing up some design concepts.

      The building was certainly tall enough for a mezzanine floor, which could accommodate living space for the artists using the studios below. Daniel had more than enough money to cover the costs of the conversion and he hoped he would be able to persuade Mia that it would be a positive companion to her more traditional guest house.

      A small creative enclave would be a draw to the more discerning guests and would perhaps offer an opportunity for an accompanying gallery to display some of the pieces created. There was a run of disused garages adjacent to the barn, which could be converted into a gallery or a small shop.

      The more he thought about it, the more the excitement fluttered in Daniel’s belly. Part of him wanted to sprint down to the kitchen where Mia had escaped to do some therapeutic baking and blurt out his thoughts. He wanted to sit at his usual spot at the table and watch her soothing movements as she mixed and kneaded the most basic of ingredients into a mouth-watering selection of treats.

      He was already addicted to her cooking and with every day that passed the feeling grew that fate had steered him to the exact place in the universe that he needed to be. He was also terrified of moving too soon on his plans for the barn. And for her. If she understood how much he wanted to make a permanent place for himself both at her table and in her life, she would run a mile.

      Daniel also understood that what he needed and what Mia needed would not necessarily end up being the same. The last thing he wanted to risk was the friendship developing between them. Whilst he might want more one day, he was not prepared to lose what they had if Mia could not move past the loss of her husband.

      A tap on the door turned him from the rain and his musings as Mia nudged the door open with one hip. She entered the room with a laden tray in her hands. Two steaming mugs of tea and a plate of shortbread biscuits brought a smile to his face as he realised that she was choosing to take a break and spend time with him. A small step perhaps but it warmed his heart just the same.

      Flour