Farmer Wants a Wife: Love and Friendship, Book 3 (20 page)

Behind Mrs. Penrith, Jasmine and Lucy covered their mouths, their eyes dancing with mirth—a warning of a storm set to land at her expense.

Susan’s shoulders slumped. “I’m going to have a bath.”

“What have you to say for yourself?”

“Nothing,” Susan said, too miserable to whip up her temper.

The cameraman appeared behind Jasmine and Lucy, the smirk beneath the camera casing alerting Susan that Mrs. Penrith wasn’t talking general depravity. Something specific had rattled the woman’s cage.

Too bad she didn’t care.

Susan turned away, ignoring Elizabeth Penrith’s rising squawks. Susan grabbed her robe from behind her bedroom door and headed for the bathroom.

Mrs. Penrith followed her. “I should have known you’d be one of
those
girls.”

Susan shut the bathroom door in her face and shot the lock.

“I’m not finished.”

Too bad. Susan ran a hot bath and stripped off her clothes, prodding at her hip. Sore, but she’d live. She had a tub of arnica rub. Susan sank into the bathwater, letting the heat soak into her aches and drive away her encompassing chill.

Half an hour later, she limped into the kitchen and started to make a pot of peppermint tea.

“What’s wrong with you?” the cameraman asked.

Susan eyed his camera with foreboding. “It’s slippery out there. I tripped and took a fall.”

“You okay?”

“Bruised hip and battered pride,” she said. “Want a cup of tea?”

“I don’t want any of that herbal shit.”

“There are some English Breakfast teabags.”

“Thanks,” the cameraman said. “Milk and—”

“Two sugars,” Susan finished. The murmur of feminine voices came from the lounge and Susan glanced in that direction. “Care to give me a heads-up on what’s jabbing Mrs. Penrith in the ass?”

“Nope.” The instant smirk sparked humor in the cameraman’s brown eyes.

“Joy,” Susan said, her tone dry enough for him to bark out a laugh.

“It would be better if you got the full impact.” This time he sniggered.

“There you are, you hussy,” Mrs. Penrith shrieked.

The outer door opened and shut. A coat rustled, and Nolan entered the kitchen.

“Nolan, she has to go home,” Mrs. Penrith ordered. “She lacks moral fortitude.”

Susan made another mug of tea and handed it to Nolan.

“Thanks.”

“Nolan!”

Nolan glared at his mother. “I heard you the first time. I’d also like to point out this is my home. If you want to rant and rave, you can do it at your place. I moved here to escape arguments and screaming matches.”

“There’s no need to air our private affairs.” Mrs. Penrith sent an uneasy glance at the camera.

Nolan snorted. “I’m sure every family owns dirty laundry.”

“But, Nolan, you don’t know what she’s like,” Mrs. Penrith said, her glance at Susan full of spite.

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea.”

Something in his tone dragged Susan’s focus to him. It wasn’t what he said, but the slight inflection. Her stomach hollowed out, and she felt the need to sit. Instead, she picked up her cup of tea and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“I’ve done everything asked of me,” Susan said.

Mrs. Penrith snorted. “You grab attention from the other girls with your unguarded tongue and your controversial blog entries. You don’t give the other girls a chance to shine. But that’s not all.”

Susan tensed at the malice in the older woman. She worked hard to be a better person, and while she didn’t always succeed, at least she tried. This woman did her best to make people miserable.

“Spit it out, Mum,” Nolan said in a tired voice. “We’re not going to get any peace until you’ve accused Susan to her face.”

Fear swelled in Susan as she glanced at Nolan. Her attention shifted to the cameraman who was recording the entire scene. Did Mrs. Penrith know about her and Tyler in truth? It wouldn’t be the end of the world, but she might land in trouble with Jennifer.

“Look at this.” Mrs. Penrith produced a sealed plastic bag and held it up like a courtroom specimen.

Susan stared.

Everyone else stared.

A blush sneaked up Susan’s neck, crashing over cheeks and heating her face. She was not going to apologize.
She would not
. “It’s a vibrator. Mr. Blue,” she added. “Is there any reason in particular why you felt the need to search my personal belongings?”

“Don’t try to shift the conversation, you hussy! A proper girl wouldn’t consider bringing one of these into Nolan’s house.”

“That’s enough,” Nolan snapped. “Give it back to Susan.”

“But…but…” Mrs. Penrith stuttered. She recovered quickly, drawing herself up. “What sort of girl has…has…things like that?”

“Enough.” Susan held out her hand. “I’m not going to apologize for packing my vibrator. Jasmine and Lucy probably have one too, but they weren’t clever enough to bring theirs with them.” Susan drew a breath, beating down the urge to say more.

“Despicable,” Mrs. Penrith said.

Susan failed, words spitting from her like machine-gun bullets. “Doctors invented vibrators to cure hysteria. Maybe you should have a treatment. It might cure your viperous tongue.” She snatched the plastic bag from Mrs. Penrith and marched from the kitchen, escaping the heavy, pulsing silence.

In her bedroom, she chucked Mr. Blue at the wall in lieu of howling. Her hands shook as she cradled her mug of tea, the peppermint fumes doing nothing to aid her state of mind.

Well, no doubt about who would head home after the filming tonight. But surely they wouldn’t show this segment on public television? A groan escaped. Of course they would. Once the show ran, viewers would fall over themselves to discuss Mr. Blue.

The local pub was packed when Susan followed Nolan, Lucy and Jasmine inside. A rock band from nearby Napier belted out cover songs and sang about hungry hearts. How long would it take for the latest juicy rumor to spread? No doubt it would grow in absurdity, taking off like Chinese whispers as it ranged from person to person.

“Would you like to dance?” Nolan asked.

Surprise struck Susan at the same time it hit Jasmine and Lucy. “Sure.”

She refused to apologize for a healthy sex drive. Surely that was a good thing. Certainly better than jumping from bed to bed in order to cure an itch. “I’m sorry if I’ve created friction between you and your mother.”
Dang it
. She hadn’t meant to do that. Hadn’t meant to apologize when she wasn’t the one at fault.

But she was guilty.
Her inner self lashed out with a brutal kick to remind her of her culpability.

“It’s all right,” Nolan said. “Mum had no business poking around in your room. She won’t be coming to the house again, not without my direct invitation.”

Susan nodded. Too little, too late. Nolan should have stood up to his mother years ago and then she wouldn’t be shoving her nose into his personal life. Not that it was any of her business. It wasn’t as if she’d have to deal with Mrs. Penrith again.

The music came to a halt.

“I’d better go and grab one of the other girls to dance,” Nolan said.

“I’ll see you later in the private function room.”

This time he nodded, a curt jerk of his head before he strode away. Susan frowned after him. A hum of chatter rose and swelled over to her right.

Mrs. Penrith.

Susan stomped rapidly in the other direction, glad she’d donned a simple pair of black trousers and a tunic top rather than her good dress that would have restricted her freedom and consigned her to high heels. Instead she wore a pair of boots, which aided her quick getaway.

A glass of wine. That would steady her nerves, make her forget the X painted on her back. And it would give her something to do with her hands.

She made for the bar.

“Squeeze in beside me,” a blonde woman said.

“Thanks.” Susan waited for judgment.

It didn’t come.

Instead, the woman smiled. “I hear you’ve had quite a day.”

Susan wrinkled her nose. “Which is why I’m desperate for a drink. I’m Susan, in case you didn’t already know. Are you a local or are you one of the many press who’ve suddenly decided I’m fatally interesting?”

The woman shook her head, and her blonde curls swayed with the movement. She held out her hand while Susan waited for bar service. “I’m Yvonne, and I’ve lived here for a few months now. My aunt owns the local bookstore—the one with the café—and I help her out.”

Susan noticed Yvonne’s almost empty wine glass. “What are you drinking? Sav Blanc or Chardonnay?”

“The house Sav,” Yvonne said. “It comes from one of the local vineyards.”

“I might as well buy a bottle.
Ooh
, look! There’s a table. Grab it and we can sit together—that’s if you’re willing to risk it. I am a fallen woman. The jury is out, but I hear it might be catchy.”

Yvonne barked out a laugh and slid off her bar stool. “I’m divorced with children. I believe I hit the floor before you.”

“Ah, thanks for breaking my landing. Since we have so much in common, would you like to share my bottle of wine?”

A strange expression flickered across Yvonne’s face, but after a brief hesitation, she smiled—a friendly one without barbs. “That would be lovely. If I sit alone, the local men think they need to keep me company. In return, they expect fringe benefits.”

“
Ugh
. Be there to save you in a moment,” Susan said.

A few locals whispered behind their hands when Susan joined Yvonne. Susan ignored their rudeness.

“I think I walked past your aunt’s store the other day when I came to town to buy a pair of gumboots. There was a queue out the door, so I figured you must serve good coffee.”

“You should have come inside. My aunt makes really good blueberry muffins and delicious cheese scones. She loves to bake, but hates serving customers. This works for both of us, because after spending a lot of time with my kids, I need adult conversation.”

“That’s what my friend Julia says. You need a balance, otherwise it’s easy to drift into crazy.”

Susan poured wine for Yvonne and sloshed some into her own glass. “Are people staring?”

“A little. The people who live in Clare are mostly nice and supportive. They’re only gossiping because Mrs. Penrith is stirring them up with a big, ole wooden spoon.”

The nuances in Yvonne’s tone snapped up Susan’s head. She eyed the woman closely. “You’ve had a run-in with her too.”

Yvonne pulled a quick face. “I went out with Nolan a couple of times. She didn’t think I was a suitable girlfriend candidate.”

“Nolan needs to grow a spine.”

“Not my problem,” Yvonne said.

Susan sipped her wine, taking in the other woman’s body language—her careless shrug and the contrasting tremor of her hand. The giveaway signs were subtle and most people wouldn’t notice.

“Ladies,” a masculine voice said.

Susan tipped back her head and smiled. Probably a bad move, but she couldn’t resist the naughty twinkle in Tyler’s eyes. “Is Josie babysitting tonight?”

“She volunteered. Hi, Yvonne. How are you?” He brushed a friendly kiss on the other woman’s cheek and a sliver of jealousy pierced Susan.

The touch of envy was still throbbing through her when Tyler pulled up a seat. “I hope you don’t mind me joining you.”

“Of course not,” Yvonne said. “David and Michael had a lovely time at Katey’s birthday party. Did you do the face painting?”

“Yes, I had as much fun as the kids.”

The two discussed their children and the party, and Susan started to feel left out, even though she’d attended. A local man asked her to dance, and she stood with alacrity. Yvonne was a nice woman—the type of woman Tyler should hook up with. Someone who had interests in common. Children. Roots in a community.

When she returned from the second dance, Nolan sat with Tyler and Yvonne.

“Ah, there you are,” Nolan said. “I wondered where you’d disappeared. I was just telling Tyler and Yvonne about Mr. Blue.” His lips quivered while he fought his amusement.

“Did you have to?”

“I can’t believe she went through your stuff,” Tyler said, indignant on Susan’s behalf.

“You’re lucky Mum didn’t decide to follow Susan on her walks,” Nolan said. “Yvonne, would you like to dance?” He held out his hand when she hesitated while Susan stared at him in horror.

Had Nolan seen them together?

Susan waited until Nolan and Yvonne were safely on the dance floor before leaning toward Tyler. “What did he mean? Do you think he knows something?”

“He would have said,” Tyler said.

“I keep telling you he’s not interested in me. He displayed more interest in Yvonne than he shows to me.”

“They dated a couple of times.”

“So she said.” But maybe Nolan was playing games with everyone. She turned on her seat to search out Nolan on the dance floor. “Those two are more than friends.”