Phillipa Ashley - Spring on the Little Cornish Isles - The Flower Farm

‘Do I have a say in this brood of little flower pickers?’ she said, guessing Will thought Adam was joking about the kids, whilst she wasn’t so sure. Maybe they should have the conversation later at his cottage. Or now. ‘Because two will do,’ she said.

Adam laughed. ‘Like I said, we’d better put in some practice.’

He slid his hand under the hair at the nape of her neck. Closing her eyes, she let her head tip back, anticipating the touch of his lips on hers as he gently pulled her in for a kiss. When it came, the kiss made her knees buckle and her whole body feel as if she’d been dipped in popping candy. It was the weirdest, but most wonderful sensation. No one had ever made her feel like that, not even when she’d been a teenager and had a Christmas kiss with the best-looking boy in the school. Now she was in her mid-thirties she felt she had no right to feel so intensely. She would have been scared by it but she was ninety-nine per cent sure that Adam felt the same way and that their relationship was about to move on to the next level.

Adam held her and she rested her cheek against his chest, enjoying the beat of his heart under the warm cotton and the scent of him. That was what was so amazing about being in love, she thought: being able to abandon yourself to a kiss, and to one person. Sod the world, sod the business, sod everything except the two of them: her and Adam, even if it was just for a few minutes or hours. She’d love to have that feeling of pure joy every day and for the rest of her life – but was it possible? It hadn’t been for her mum and dad – or Maisie – but it could be for her and Adam.

‘Did you mean that, about the room?’ she murmured, looking into his eyes.

Adam’s face was suddenly serious. ‘Of course. We need to talk about it. Shall we go to my place or does Will need you here?’

‘Sounds like the best offer I’ve had all day. Will always needs me here, but I’ve done my bit and it’s technically my day off. I’ll come back later tonight to see how Gaby’s doing.’

Adam kissed her again and Jess thought she might take off with happiness. And lust. Things were going well: for the farm and finally for her love life.

‘Come on then,’ he said. He took her hand as they walked to Thrift Cottage, which nestled behind a stony bay at the far end of the island.

The next couple of hours were lost in some deliciously wicked downtime before the shadows lengthened outside and Jess reluctantly started to get dressed. No matter how much she wanted to stay in bed with Adam or sleep over in the cottage, there was way too much to be done at the farm and she didn’t want to abandon Gaby on her first night. Despite what she’d said to Adam earlier, running a farm meant she never really had a ‘proper’ whole day off.

‘Sorry. Have to go back to work soon,’ she said, pulling her T-shirt over her head. ‘I can’t leave Will on his own for much longer. It’s not fair.’

Adam sat on the edge of the bed, still naked. ‘We can spend more time together when you move in … you’ll be in my bed every night. Come here.’

Jess joined him at the bed and stood between his legs. Even now the sight of him made her long to jump straight back under the patchwork cover with him. In fact, it was crazy not to move in with him as she already spent plenty of nights here each week. There was no reason to wait any longer and it wasn’t as if she had to move any further than half a mile from the farm. Everything could carry on as before, only much better. She held his head between her hands, leaned down and kissed him, feeling as if she could float on air.

‘Let’s talk about it tomorrow evening. Shall I come for dinner?’ she said.

‘Sounds perfect. Stay over and we can start moving your stuff in.’

‘I hope you can find room for my extensive collection of fleeces and wellies.’

‘Of course, but don’t bother with any underwear, will you?’

‘Ha ha,’ said Jess, brimming with excitement while also wondering what her mother’s reaction would be. Will would be happy for her, but her mum had dropped enough hints for Jess to work out that she didn’t think an island postman was good enough for her daughter. Jess wasn’t too concerned. She had long since ceased to care what her mother thought about her choice of partners and where Adam was concerned, she was resolved not to let her spoil her moment.

A buzzing came from underneath Adam’s abandoned boxers.

‘Yours or mine?’ she asked.

‘Sounds like mine. Probably Javid calling me about rowing practice …’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Oh shit, is that the time? I promised to meet him down at the gig sheds ten minutes ago. See how you’ve distracted me. I’ll call him to say I’ll be late.’

Jess moved away as Adam picked up his phone and frowned at the screen.

‘It’s not Javid … it’s a text … I don’t know …’ His voice trailed off and he stared at the screen for a few moments. His smile evaporated and he scrolled down further.

Jess joined him on the edge of the bed. ‘Adam? What is it?’

‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

Her stomach turned over. ‘It doesn’t look like nothing. You’ve gone as white as a sheet.’

‘I’m fine.’ He threw the phone on the duvet. ‘It was just a junk message. Sick of them to be honest.’ Flashing a smile at her, he grabbed his shirt. ‘I need to get down to the sheds. Sorry …’

‘Oh. OK, I should be getting home anyway. See you tomorrow?’

‘Yeah. Sure.’ Adam pecked her on the cheek before scrambling into his clothes.

Jess looked at the phone lying face-down in the folds of the duvet. Adam’s reaction convinced her the text had been more important than he was letting on, but she certainly had no intention of checking his mobile. She trusted him to tell her if anything was amiss.

Adam saw her to the front door. He always stood in the porch watching her until she was out of sight of him – perhaps longer for all she knew. He still stood there today, but as she reached the point when she would lose that last glimpse of him, she turned around to find the porch empty.

She told herself she was being paranoid and she was tired at the end of a long summer of work … and sex. Then she thought back to the hasty kiss, the eager removal of his hands from her waist and to the empty spot on the cottage porch and shivered. She was probably overthinking things but she had the feeling that whatever was in that text, it had shifted Adam’s world on its axis and, with it, her own.

Five and a half months later

Valentine’s Day

The Flower Farm, St Saviour’s

Well, it was one way to spend Valentine’s Day … Gaby took a swig of coffee from her mug as she and her fellow pickers enjoyed a quick break in the ‘staff rest area’, which was actually an old farm building with a couple of ancient sofas, a sink and kettle. It was the middle of the morning and she was more than ready for a break. Her back and arms ached already and it wasn’t eleven a.m. yet. Her dungarees were damp and despite the rubber gloves, her fingers were almost numb as she warmed them on her steaming mug.

The stems had grown thigh-high and the fields were aglow with blooms. Beyond the hedges, the Atlantic Ocean was topped by frothy whitecaps whipped up by the brisk February wind, while the other isles were green oases in the silvery-blue sea.

It had rained overnight; in fact, it had been raining for a few days now and the fields were thick with mud that threatened to ooze over the top of her wellies. However, the skies had now cleared and she’d been able to forgo the bright yellow oilskins provided by the farm. They kept her dry but also swamped her and Gaby felt like she was in a TV ad for frozen fish fingers when she was wearing them. There was still a keen wind gusting so she’d kept on the extra layer of luxury thermals she’d been given by Carly when she’d gone home for the Christmas break.