Page 80 of Somewhere Only We Know

‘Would I what?’ I prompted. ‘Just ask.’

He looked away and then back again. ‘Okay, okay. Daisy clearly loves you, Max prefers you to me these days, and I was wondering if you’d stay a bit longer. Here, working for me. I’d pay you, of course.’

‘A job?’ I blinked at him, not sure how to deal with my disappointment. And then a split second later deciding that maybe, for once in my life, I should go after what I wanted for a change. ‘For a moment there, I thought you were going to ask me for a kiss.’

He slapped a hand to his forehead and took a step back. ‘Sorry. My fault entirely. Look at me, invading your personal space.’

‘No worries.’ I was doing that weird Australian accent again. My face was probably purple with embarrassment. ‘We’d better get back to the vines, see what the pickers are up to.’

‘Yeah, good plan.’

The two of us walked back to the vineyard, an awkward silence humming between us.

Jono stopped just before the gate and caught hold of my hand. ‘I think I’m being a bit slow here. So just to be clear, did you want me to kiss you? Because if you did then—’

My answer came in the form of a kiss, my hands sliding upwards across the muscles in his back. He responded immediately, the heat of his mouth making me heady with longing.

‘Clear enough?’ I pulled back to relish the look of surprise on his face.

‘Almost,’ he replied with a glint in his eye.

I laughed and kissed him again to make sure. I was slowly coming back to life and my goodness, did it feel good.

Chapter 28

Australia

‘Seven a.m. and we’re already winning,’ I said to Max, sending a sheet of address labels to print from the laptop in front of me.

The dog and I were on the veranda. I’d processed the online orders that had come through overnight while he dozed under the table, one eye permanently open on the lookout for approaching vehicles and people to make friends with.

Today was officially the last day of the harvest. There was only one small parcel of vines still to pick. They were in the shadiest spot in the vineyard, Jono had explained, and always the last to ripen. This season’s harvest had been the best since before the bush fires, and Jono said that there was a feeling across the Hunter Valley that the yield was going to produce some amazing wines. He deserved his success after the months he’d had. I knew only too well how hard it was to get up each morning and get going when life did its best to throw you off course.

As well as harvesting coming to an end, today was officially my last day at Ruby Creek. My two weeks were up, and in theory I’d be heading back to Sydney tomorrow.

My last few days had flown by in a blur of fresh air, warm sunshine, starry nights spent on the veranda with Jono, Daisy and Max, and the blissful sleep of someone who was living her best life. Each day we picked grapes until mid-afternoon, at which point the pickers were sent home and work began in the winery. Jono’s two presses were at full capacity. The grapes were pressed and juice pumped into the waiting stainless-steel tanks. He was working well into the evenings, anxiously checking the grape juice, taking samples and cataloguing every detail. Other people had begun to turn up at Ruby Creek to help him: members of the Ruby Creek club who owned a stake in the vineyard, friends of Jono’s he’d known since school, and even his cousin and her husband – all coming to lend a hand at the busiest point in a winemaker’s calendar.

The longer I was here, the more I was able to help. From selling direct at the cellar door, and updating the winery’s website, to preparing bedrooms in the main house for visitors. I felt part of the Ruby Creek team and I was going to miss them all so much.

Should I stay longer? The question played on a loop in my head. The chemistry between Jono and me was rising with each passing encounter, like the pressure and heat building before a thunderstorm that you know with absolute certainty is heading your way. We flirted and made eye contact at every opportunity, we deliberately brushed against one another, fingers intertwining briefly and breaking away before we were spotted.

The kiss had changed the dynamic between us. Now if I stayed I wasn’t sure whether he wanted me as a worker or something more. And what about my travels? There were still plenty of pages left unturned in Brontë’s book, which meant she had more places she’d wanted to discover. If I stayed, would there be time to do it all before I was due back at work? Surely Bronte’s trip should be my priority? After all, she was the reason I was here to begin with.

‘Maggie.’ Daisy’s voice cut into my thoughts. Her cheeks were flushed, and she checked around before continuing. ‘I need to tell you a secret.’

‘Morning, love.’ I patted the space beside me. ‘Sit down, tell me all about it.’

She reminded me so much of Brontë at that age; full of energy and ideas, veering erratically from worldly-wise one minute to self-conscious and unsure of herself the next. I often thought about her mother and how sad it was that she and Jono had not been able to work out a way for Daisy to keep in touch. I’d miss her when I left, and felt a rush of warmth that she knew she was safe to confide her secrets in me.

‘Okay, so here’s the thing.’ She slid onto the bench. Max perked up, nudging her with his nose until she gave him some fuss.

She looked different today. Her hair fell in glossy waves instead of its casual ponytail and there was a pair of sunglasses perched on her head.

She looked cool and stylish, and I could see flashes of the woman she was becoming.

‘You’re not wearing school uniform,’ I said, taking in her jeans and T-shirt.

She dismissed that with a flap of her hand. ‘There’s some travelling theatre coming into school today, doing workshops about diversity. We’re allowed to wear what we want to express our individuality. Best of all, there’s no proper lessons.’