A Taste of Honey Read Online Free PDF Page A

wanted to be alone with his wounds, pottering around the farm content in his misery, not intending ever to get over her mother’s death it seemed. And Charli was helpless. What could she do? She’d tried to reason with him. Tell him that life must go on, what had happened had happened and nothing they could do or say would bring her mother back. She’d said these and all the other platitudes she could think of, but it was useless. Her father simply refused to stop mourning his wife.
    Her nose was running and she didn’t have the strength of character to get up and find a tissue. She wiped her nose with the inside hem of her T-shirt.
    Okay, so she reminded him of her mother, and it pained him to look at her. But she needed to be with him, especially now when her life had cracked up in her face and she didn’t know which way to go.
    She struggled to her feet, walked down the corridor and into the bathroom where she washed her face of tears, ran her hand through her hair, and staring at her reflection in the mirror, murmured, “Bugger it.”
    She left the bathroom, walked back down the corridor and reached for her car keys and left her flat.
    • • •
    Reaching the park by seven, Charli parked her car and walked to the lake’s edge. It was so peaceful, so calm, and absolutely perfect for a quiet jog. The blue water sparkled in the early morning sun. And the dark clouds floating around her head dispersed. She inhaled the sweet air deeply, feeling totally restored; the rest of her life wasn’t going to be a mess; she knew, with quiet confidence, that she’d sort things out and everything would come out smelling of roses.
    A few stray seagulls, seeking food left by the Sunday barbeques, wheeled in slow graceful circles, squawking loudly as she passed beneath them.
    She’d been jogging for a few minutes when, in the distance, another jogger appeared. By the massive width of the shoulders, it was definitely a man.
    She slowed her pace but kept her movement smooth. She tripped over her own feet. The other jogger was her sworn adversary. William Knight apparently had the same idea as her about an early morning jog. She quickened her pace.
    Oh my God, this is so embarrassing. What should I do? Ignore him like he didn’t exist? Give him a wave and jog on past? Smile and yell out, good morning, great day for a jog isn’t it?
    She didn’t wish him well. She wished him to the devil. She’d jog past him with nose held firmly in the air; as if her demotion hadn’t shattered her confidence; as if she lost her job every day of her life and it meant nothing to her.
    If William Knight were the last human on earth with her, she’d prefer the company of a man-eating ravenous crocodile. Preferred scenario, William Knight’s left leg in said crocodile’s mouth.
    He halted and glared down at her as if she was somehow taking up his space. She had no alternative but to stop.
    He looked her up and down with breathtaking audacity, a cheeky grin on his handsome face.
    He was standing far too close for comfort, and Charli found something about him disabling. She wasn’t sure if it was the tuft of coal black hair falling down his forehead or the emerald glint in his magnificent eyes or maybe the sensual curve to his mouth. Whatever he had it was more than enough. Her heart was beating way too fast.
    She attempted to move past without being too obvious. She didn’t want him aware of the effect he had on her. He was arrogant enough without adding her fascination to his I’m-too-good-for-this-world list of self-wonders.
    She wondered if he had a girlfriend or if he dated at whim. Then she reasoned that he didn’t have a thing to worry about, he’d simply choose from the line of panting women waiting outside his front door.
    Well, not this little black duck, no sirree Bob. She panted after no man. She was pant-less. Her head jerked back. Thank God, she hadn’t spoken that little gem aloud. What a joke William Knight would have had on