Never Too Late by Alyssia Leon

his fascination.
    What did she do to him?
    He hadn’t felt so whole in so long, so vibrant, so alive.
    Maybe he was going about this the wrong way. Maybe what his scarred heart needed wasn’t to withdraw, but everything Molly had to offer. She wanted him too and was doing a lousy job of hiding it, her words saying one thing but her body telling him an entirely different story. In fact, his little diversion in Barrowdene could be stimulating for both of them.
    But this time he’d do it right. His lust wouldn’t rule his head. They’d have the fun they both wanted, a brief entanglement, and he’d make sure this pull between them didn’t live beyond his time in Appleby.
    Molly finally found her composure.
    Never again. She’d keep her head around Jake Hennessy if it killed her. She’d stop making a royal fool of herself in front of this man, but most of all, she’d give him such a wide berth they might as well be on opposite sides of the planet.
    She turned to him with as much dignity as she could muster in the face of the amusement in his eyes. “Sorry about that, I’ll show you around.”
    And this time, her gaze riveted on the path before her, she led the way safely out of the kitchen garden.

 5
    She was firmly back in professional mode as they walked around the side of the house towards the stables.
    “The immediate grounds are maintained as gardens, but the fields, on three sides, also belong to Barrowdene.”
    He nodded. “Around twenty acres, I believe.”
    “Yes. The south field, at the back of the estate, was planted as a mixed orchard. There’s apples, pears, and cherries, and it leads down to the stream, which is also part of Barrowdene. The west field ends in small woods.”
    He glanced around at the manicured hedges and trimmed lawns. “The gardens are well maintained. I wasn’t expecting the place to be in such good condition based on what Francine told me in London.”
    “Francine doesn’t stay here that often. We’ve always maintained it.”
    “We? You work here too?”
    “No, but I help Nan with whatever she needs. She’s been Barrowdene’s housekeeper since she was sixteen years old, and my grandfather was already the groundsman here when they first met.” Her voice dropped. “He planted the gardens and orchards, pretty much everything you see.”
    “Sounds like you’re very close to him.” He watched her with keen amber eyes.
    “We were close. He died a year and a half ago, not long after Francine inherited Barrowdene. Nate is our groundsman now.”
    “You must miss your grandfather a lot.”
    She nodded. She did miss her grandad. He’d taught her so much, and one of those things was to look after those closest to her. 
    She looked at Jake. “I hope you’ll forgive Nate’s behaviour yesterday. He’s a good worker and a fantastic groundsman. He really is. But he was drunk, and I know there’s no excuse for that, but—”
    Jake laughed, a deep rich sound that warmed her. “It’s nice of you to defend him, but I already spoke to him today.”
    She bit her lip. “Oh?”
    “You’re right. He’s not such a bad guy when he’s sober. He’s invited me around to try his cherry wine later.”
    “No! Don’t do that.”
    “The cherry wine’s not a good idea?”
    She shook her head. “It’s a hobby Nate started when he came to Barrowdene. He uses the overripe cherries from the orchard. I don’t know what else he puts in the stuff, but it’s strong enough to fell an army.”
    “It’s that deadly?”
    “Well, it’s not poisonous. He’s actually developed quite a following for it in Appleby, and Nan sings its praises, but anyone new really shouldn’t be drinking more than a thimbleful at a time.”
    “Sounds like you tried it.” Merriment filled his eyes. 
    “I was one of his first guinea pigs,” she said with a grimace. “I drank a glass of his first perfected batch and was clean knocked out for the rest of the day.”
    Jake laughed. “Here’s hoping