Chapter 4

Tulip

“What the fu—”

As we round the side of the house from fixing a couple of fences up in the top field, there’s a brand new, shiny red flail mower sitting out front on the driveway.

“It showed up about twenty minutes ago,” Blossom says, her eyes straight on Cooper.

“You got something to do with this?” I ask him.

That smile again. “Me? No, know nothing about it.”

He’s lying. For an actor, he’s the absolute worst liar in the world. Totally unconvincing.

“Well, you can just call whoever you got to bring this here and get them to take it away again.”

“You needed one, I got you one.”

“Oh, so it was you, I’d never have guessed,” I snap.

Blossom shoots me a warning look.

“What? You want to accept this? This must have cost at least eight grand, Bloss. That’s ridiculous.”

“Well, I earned a fair bit from my last film, you know, the shitty one that won an Oscar,” Cooper says, his hand taking my arm. “Oh, come on. At least take a look at this thing.”

I hang my head a little, his movie wasn’t really that bad, it just wasn’t to my tastes. But sometimes my mouth runs away with me, and I shouldn’t keep blaming him for being here. Honestly, he’s worked hard today, been a great help, and hasn’t complained once. Which isn’t what I expected at all. He’s down to earth, funny, engaging, and whip smart, too. It’s kind of intoxicating to be around actually, and after his ‘can go all night’ comment in the stable earlier, and the sweet thought to bring me something as I hadn’t eaten breakfast, I’m finding it hard to even concentrate on the giant piece of machinery in front of me and am more aware that his hand is like fire on my elbow.

Pull yourself together, Tulip, he’s just some guy from London. Some guy who manages to look like that, even after he’s been working all day, is covered in mud, dirt and who knows what else. Right, sensible head back on.

“We can’t accept this. It’s very kind of you, but it’s too much. How did you even get it here so fast?”

“Sometimes being me has its perks. People will do a whole lot when you throw a name at them. I never use it for that reason, but it felt right today.”

“Still … We can’t…”

“Tulip, you can. Look, you need this, I’m happy to help. After spending the day with you today, even more so, you work like a bloody trojan. Call it a gift for letting me stay here, for putting up with me.”

Every instinct is to fight him on this, we’ve always managed, we shouldn’t need help. But Blossom is looking at him like he just hung the moon, and she’s just as stubborn as me about accepting help and hand-outs, prefers instead to ‘business’ her way out of things. She’s all meticulous planning and ideas to generate income. We must really need this if she’s on board. And it really is a decent machine, top of the range, and far superior to the one that’s been on its way out for the last six or seven repairs.

“Thank you. Does this mean you’re going to make me change the Wi-Fi password now?”

He winks, tilts his face down to my ear and whispers, “Maybe to ‘cooper-fox-is-growing-on-me’. You know, because I am.”

His breath against my ear, the closeness of him, it’s too much, and I pull away. “Yeah, yeah, you keep telling yourself that, Movie Star.”

****

I’m reeling from the family meeting Blossom called this evening. It’s so much worse than I thought, and now, sitting here staring out across our land from my bedroom window, the only thought running through my mind is that we’ve let mum and dad down.

It’s beautiful here, the pink full moon welcoming in spring, its golden hue creating shimmers across the expanse below. There’s a breeze too, gentle and soft, a quiet whisper from heaven as it rustles through the crops and trees. Looking to the skies, I wish for just one more night with them, a moment here beneath the stars to allow us to say goodbye.

A flash over in the west field catches my eye. Movement, a deer fleeing across the darkened field. And then I track back to where it came from – the pod in the corner. Cooper. He’s hanging out on the deck outside, obviously having tried to take a photo of the deer, startling it, and sending it running.

I don’t know what makes me do what I do next, but I creep out my room, tread carefully down the stairs, pull on my coat, and slip out into the night.

“Fancy some company?” I ask as I approach.

“I was wondering when you’d finally get here,” he laughs.

“What?”

“I saw you, over by the treeline, loitering. Couldn’t decide if you fancied coming over or not, huh?”

Damn, I thought I was being so stealthy too, had kept close to the trees on the way over, just in case common sense kicked in before I got here.

I answer with a lie. “I was only coming down to tell you not to startle the wildlife with camera flashes.”

“I’d have thought that they were a nuisance to you, don’t they eat the fruit?”

Damn, okay, so he might have a point. But I love seeing them. They’re beautiful, elegant, and we’ve got things in place to stop them getting to the crops. He doesn’t need to know that, though.

“Exactly. You scaring them from this empty field will send them running, possibly over to our fruit fields, that could be a problem.”

He cocks his head, studies me for a long minute. “Bullshit.”

“What?”

“Bullshit. That was a load of crap. Tell me I’m wrong.”

I don’t like this ability he has to read me, he showed it today too, out on the land, seemed to know instinctively what I needed, wanted, like working alongside each other was the most natural thing in the world and we’d been doing it for years. A silent communication almost. And now, he can read my lies too.

“Fine. You’re not wrong. Blossom isn’t keen on them, but I love them. They do minimal damage and they’re bloody cute. Don’t tell her, but I sometimes come up here and put some food out for them.”

“I knew you were lying,” he laughs. “It’s okay if you just want to come hang out, I can always use a little company. You want to come in?”

No. Yes. No. I’ve been inside that glamping pod, it’s not that big. A kitchenette and sofa up one end, a bed up the other, a tiny bathroom just beyond. I’ll essentially be walking into Cooper Fox’s bedroom. And the way he’s currently raising his eyebrow at me as I hesitate is doing all sorts to my insides.

“I’ve got tea and biscuits. Other than that, I can’t really offer you much,” he says.

I step up onto the deck. “Well, now it really depends on what type of biscuits you have.”

“Clover took pity on me after dinner tonight when I said I was missing my cup of tea before bed, ran me down a box of tea bags and a packet of chocolate digestives about an hour later.”

“My favourites. I never turn down a choccie biccie.”

“Clover did well then. She’s a good kid.”

“She is.”

“You’ve got a lovely family. It’s not hard to see the amount of love in that house.”

“Thanks. We bicker and argue, but we’d do anything for each other, really.”

“It shows. Anyway, I’m hoping to venture into town tomorrow afternoon, if you can spare me. This place needs stocking. I’ll replace both the tea and biscuits then. Maybe I’ll even get a bottle of wine for if you stop by again.”

I know he’s not flirting. I’m some random mud-covered, country-dwelling farm girl, not the kind of woman the big shot movie star flirts with. But it feels like he is. And the looks he gives me, the stare, the smile, not to mention the teasing, the innuendo and cheek he throws out, it doesn’t help to convince me otherwise. But maybe I’m convenient, maybe he’s just keeping his game sharp for when he returns to real life.

“Awfully sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“Well, you’re here now.”

“A one off, I assure you,” I say, unsure I’m speaking the truth.

He smiles and pushes open the door. “Then you better get whatever’s eating away at you off your chest tonight. I’m a good listener, come on, I’ll put the kettle on.”

Again he’s reading me, knows there’s something wrong. But is this just something he’s picked up from being around us, or does he really see me? Because there’s no way he could know the devastating news Blossom hit us with earlier. Is there?