“Yes, I suppose that about sums it up,” she said after a moment, but something about her tone made Owen think it didn’t at all. And for an unnerving second, he wondered if he’d got Emily David completely wrong.
They finished their meal—a lovely lasagne—without saying much more to each other, and somehow Owen felt as if he’d come off worst in the conversation. It was odd, because he was a let-it-roll-off-him type of guy, and yet he’d been the opposite with Emily, from the very first second he’d clapped eyes on her. It annoyed and alarmed him in equal measure. Why did this slip of a woman cause such a reaction in him?
After a mostly silent meal, Emily rose to help clear the plates, even though Ava insisted she didn’t have to. Owen had a feeling she was avoiding him, and he could hardly blame her. Something in his manner had been a bit aggressive, even though he hadn’t meant it to be.
“What do you think of Emily?” Jace asked in a low voice when the women were organising dessert and Simon had gone to take a phone call from his sister.
“It’s a bit obvious, isn’t it, mate?” Owen replied. “You get two single people in this village and everyone’s pushing you together no matter what.”
“You know how it is,” Jace returned affably. “You don’t have to do anything about it, but there seemed to be some sparks flying.”
Yes, there were definitely sparks. There certainly had been when’d touched her. Still Owen shook his head. “She’s not my type.”
Jace arched an eyebrow. “Or you’re not hers?”
“They’re one and the same, I reckon.”
Jace lifted his beer bottle to his lips as he rocked back on the legs of his chair. “Actually, I don’t think they are.”
“What’s it matter to you?” Owen returned. “You’re not usually one to play matchmaker.”
Jace shrugged, grinning. “When you’ve found true love yourself…”
“Oh, stuff it.” Owen spoke good-naturedly enough, but he meant what he said. He enjoyed flirting, and he’d gone on a fair few dates, but he wasn’t in the market for a real relationship, the kind where people got hurt, where he hurt them. Definitely not.
Perhaps that was why Emily David affected him the way she did, creating in him this unsettling mix of attraction and aggression. He saw her standoffishness and it irritated him, and then he sensed her fragility and felt both intrigued and wary. Who was she? And when would he stop caring?
Chapter Ten
“Well?” Ava’s voice was a carrying whisper as she took a bubbling and golden apple crumble out of the oven. “What do you think?”
Emily decided it was best to play dumb. “It looks delicious,” she said with a nod towards the crumble.
Ava let out one of her throaty laughs. “Not this, you ninny,” she said. “Which I think you know full well.”
“You are being a bit obvious,” Emily felt compelled to say.
Ava placed the crumble on the worktop, her eyebrows raised. “Life is short. What’s the harm in being obvious? Subtlety is entirely overrated, in my opinion.” Emily thought she disagreed with that sentiment, but she decided not to say anything. “Look,” Ava said, lowering her voice so Olivia, fetching bowls, couldn’t hear. “I know it’s hard when you’ve been on your own a long time. You’re used to fending for yourself, and that can feel good. Safe. And I’m willing to admit that maybe Owen isn’t the right bloke for you, but he is a lovely guy and whatever happens, he’d be a good friend. We can all use a few of those, don’t you think?”
“Er, yes, I’m sure,” Emily managed after a second’s pause. How did Ava know she’d been on her own a long time? Had she been talking to Olivia? Why did everyone seem as if they knew her, and they had the right to say so? It left Emily feeling as if she were naked. Exposed and vulnerable, and she didn’t like it at all.
“It takes one to know one,” Ava said softly, in reply to her unasked question, and then she picked up the crumble and brought it to the table.
Dessert was a jollier affair than dinner, with everyone chipping in and the conversation moving from topic to topic with lightning speed—rugby, the new playground on the village green, the fact that The Three Pennies was now offering rooms.
“That doesn’t cramp your style, Owen?” Simon asked with a smile. He was a gentle-looking man with slightly longish dark hair and kind eyes. He clearly adored Olivia.
“Not at all. The Three Pennies has an entirely different clientele than The Drowned Sailor, as I’m sure you know. And I wouldn’t let a dog sleep in the rooms above the pub.” Owen let out one of his booming laughs. “I may have a slight problem with damp, but I’m sorting it out.”
“I can help you with that, mate,” Jace said, and Owen smiled and nodded.
“I’ll take you up on that.”
They were all such good friends, their conversation so natural, they made it look easy, just as the women had when they got together. Talk, laugh, eat, drink. Repeat. Everyone else could do it, Emily thought, so why couldn’t she? Of course, she’d never wanted to quite so much before. She’d been happy on her own. She still was.
A week or two in Wychwood-on-Lea didn’t have to change her. She didn’t have to let it. And yet it had been so much easier to be anonymous and alone in London.
“I suppose I should get back,” Emily said when the dessert plates had been cleared and the decaf coffees drunk. It was past ten and she realised she was longing for the peace and quiet of her cottage, sterile though it might be, even as she’d strangely enjoyed the banter flying all around her, without taking part in it. Socialising, even though she was rubbish at it, was exhausting.
“Oh, you can’t
