Between Heaven and Rock (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 3)

Dictated, Not Read

Double update, anyone? ;)

K. <3

***

Ulla was mournfully finishing the second cuppa, and he was chewing his toast with his eyes down on the screen of his phone. Ulla wondered if she'd now develop a lazy eye from how hard she'd been trying not to stare at him. His jaw moved, he swallowed and his Adam's apple bobbed, and also he tended to absent-mindedly lick his bottom lip.

Ulla, said Ulla's lady parts in her mind.

Shut up.

But Ulla... We know you're thinking about it.

Shut up.

Ulla, c'mon, we are all thinking about it right now.

Don't you dare say it.

Right now, he tastes like marmalade.

Bugger.

"Is everything alright?" he asked, and Ulla jolted.

"Pardon?" she squeaked.

"You've just... moaned," he said and gave her a small smile. "Is it the withdrawal kicking in?"

You have no idea, mate.

Ulla gave out an unconvincing laugh.

"Yeah, the withdrawal."

"Mr. Tate will be here in about forty minutes," he said comfortingly.

"Yep. Good," she said. "You know what? I think I'll start working. You finish your breakfast, and I can start looking at your manuscript."

"Oh," he exhaled. God, his lips! "Now? Already?"

Yes, now. Ulla needed it. She needed to snap out of this madness and go back to doing what she normally did - to read someone else's writing and criticise it. Venomously in her mind, and somewhat constructively on paper.

"Would you like to share the files with me?" she asked.

"I have a printed copy as well," he said, rising. He wiped his lips and his hand on the napkin. "I could fetch them for you. Or do you prefer a digital copy?"

"Printed, please," she said, getting up as well.

She came back with her pen and her laptop, and sat down.

"What is the significance of the pen?" he asked and craned his neck to look at the Varius Ivanhoe in her hand.

"Why do you think there's a significance?" she grumbled, and he gave her a look that could be called sardonic.

Except, 'sardonic' was usually defined as 'full of bitter or scornful derision; mocking; sneering; cynical" - and there was neither scorn, nor mockery, nor derision in his eyes. His gaze was warm with a teasing note. He truly had the most beautiful eyes.

"I bought it when I got the job in the publishing house," she said grudgingly and twirled the fountain pen in her fingers. "I spent my last pay from the old job on it. All of it. It's like a token. The end of one life, and the beginning of another."

She paused and threw him a shocked look. Never - and she meant, never! - had she opened up to a person so quickly! Actually, she'd never opened up to anyone like that, period. What is this? Is he a hypnotist or something?!

"It's beautiful," he said softly and handed her a thick stack of paper.

She grasped at the sheets like at a life ring.