Everything he’s done must’ve had a purpose behind it. Gorgeous, funny, warm guys like him don’t fall for plain emotional wrecks like me – they see a weakness and they exploit it. Like Steve did. Noel certainly saw my weakness in the car on that first night, and he grabbed his opportunity. He didn’t win the auction, but he saw a chance to wrestle the farm back from my grasp. That’s why he changed so much. Not because we had a connection or because he liked me, but because he saw an opportunity to gain my trust, to ‘help’ me, because I was so clueless and grateful for his advice that I never stopped to question why he was helping me or if the advice he gave was sound.

And now I know he’s been lying all along.

It’s a genius plan, really. Keep your enemies closer and all that. He’s shown me everything, from what trees to cut to how to propagate seedlings for future years, and I’ve trusted him blindly. But how do I know if anything he’s said is true? How do I know if he’s told me the opposite of what I should be doing, so he can swoop in and takeover like a hero when it all inevitably falls apart? What if the only thing he’s been helping me to do is run the farm into the ground so I’ll have no choice but to give up and sell it on to him?

Chapter 15

‘Where’s the “Hot Scot Pumpkin Farmer Who Looks Like Luke Evans” you keep texting me about then?’ Chelsea asks through the phone.

‘I don’t keep texting you about him,’ I say. ‘I’ve barely mentioned him.’

‘You’ve barely mentioned him today. Is he there? Can you put him on and make him say “murrrderrr” a few times for me?’

No matter how much I don’t feel like laughing, a giggle escapes at the idea. Noel would laugh. And be all too happy to oblige. ‘He’s not here.’

She makes a noise of disappointment. ‘Where is he, then? Sawing down trees topless? Toplessly dragging stumps out of the earth with his bare hands?’

‘Why does he have to be topless?’

‘Because you keep texting me about his arms and his chest. If you mention those mystical forearms one more time, I’m liable to drive up there to see for myself.’ She sighs reflectively. ‘Ooh, ruggedly tearing the branches from Christmas trees with his teeth? Topless, of course. Sawing wood back and forth, gentle but firm at the same time? No shirt, the breeze blowing his hair …’

‘It’s snowing! No one’s going shirtless in that.’ I’m in the kitchen, still the only room with a window, and the wind outside is blowing up the already fallen snow and hurling it around. ‘It’s a bit of a blizzard actually.’