‘Hold it like this,’ Drew said as he stood behind me and guided my hands farther up the axe. ‘Great. You’re a natural.’

‘Really?’

‘Yeah. I’m considering asking you if you want a job,’ he said.

‘If I don’t get this novel finished, it could be a viable option.’ He smirked as I stuck out my tongue in mock concentration.

‘Hold on.’ He moved the log slightly to the left. ‘It’s all in the precision.’

‘Absolutely.’ I smiled. ‘That extra inch makes all the difference.’ I heard him chuckling as I raised the axe.

‘Keep your eye on the log and try to get a clean cut.’

I brought it down in one swift move and cut it in two. Amazing, considering I had my eyes squeezed shut the entire time.

‘Ha! Look at that! Perfect!’

‘Whoa! I’ll get your contract of employment ready,’ he said.

It was hard to believe that I had been at Karensa for a few days now. I was starting to establish a new routine for my writing in the hope that it would encourage more words to flow. To break up the days, I started following Drew around the complex, watching as he fixed roofs, standing back as he cleaned windows, talking about books as he pottered around in the fields. Days were long in Karensa without a distraction and spending time with Drew was the best kind. Most of the time, I entertained Archie, but I was becoming a bit of an expert at filling holes and changing light bulbs in awkward positions. Secretly, I think Drew enjoyed the company. The island was a lonely place. Great for writing without interruptions when a deadline loomed, but not ideal when you didn’t need extra thinking time to miss your family and prepare for the first Christmas without the traditions of home.

After the second morning of writing followed by an afternoon helping Drew, I invited him for something to eat. The next day I made sandwiches, and we ate them together on the little bench on the hill overlooking Karensa. I was enjoying spending time with him, trying not to force any uncomfortable topics of conversation, steering away from ex-girlfriends, embarrassing kiss near misses and luxury weddings that appeared to have ground to a halt.

‘I don’t know about you, but chopping firewood has helped me build up an appetite,’ I said, resting my foot on the axe. Drew choked on the coffee I’d made earlier, putting it in a baby-pink flask that said writer juice.

‘Remove your foot. Please. For me. You’re making me nervous,’ he said as I leant it against the outhouse.

‘The pen is mightier than the axe.’

‘I think you’ll find it’s the sword, not the axe,’ he chuckled.

‘I’m a writer. I can make a quote fit.’

‘Never doubted it,’ he replied as he picked up the firewood. ‘Shall I cook tonight?’

‘No. It’s all in hand.’ I was proud of myself. ‘I’ve made soup with some leftover veg and Brian dropped off some homemade bread this morning.’

‘Did he now?’

‘Yes.’ I arched an eyebrow as he smirked. ‘What’s that for?’

‘I didn’t know he ran a bread delivery service too,’ he said. ‘I’ll have to get my name on the list.’

‘You do that,’ I smirked as he shook his head.

‘I think Brian has a crush on the writer lady.’

‘Stop it!’ I scoffed. ‘I’m sure if you asked him to bring you some homemade bread he would.’

‘I’ve asked,’ he said. ‘He said he only delivers to beautiful women named Cal.’

‘Are you kidding me?’ I tried to ignore the leap in my stomach after he said the word beautiful. ‘As lovely as Brian is, he’s old enough to be my father.’ I kicked against the door of the cottage to open it. It seemed to work and saved my shoulder all at the same time.

‘Isn’t Brian your type?’ he asked as he followed me in to the cottage.

‘If he was forty years younger, I’d be in. No messing,’ I replied, smiling as Drew chuckled. He dropped the firewood into the basket and rubbed his hands together in front of the burner. I sat down in the chair I’d adopted as my reading spot, draping my legs across the arm and knocking a book to the floor as I did. Drew reached for it.

‘The Notebook,’ he said, reading the title. ‘I think I’ve seen the film.’

‘Ah. It’s a lovely film, but it doesn’t stay true to the book,’ I replied.

‘I hate it when that happens,’ he said flicking through the pages. ‘So disappointing. Did you read it before you saw the film?’

‘I did. That copy is well loved,’ I laughed. ‘Can’t you see the tell-tale crinkled pages? Years of re-reading will do that to a paperback.’

‘I like old favourites. You can always trust them to give you a great story,’ he said.

‘Old favourites make great palette cleansers.’

‘Explain yourself,’ he said, crossing his arms.

‘When you’re between books. You could be in a slump or recovering from an amazing read. You need something to reset the brain,’ I said, half-shrugging. ‘I’ve only just started reading again. Before I came here I hadn’t read in a while. Normally, I’d devour a book to help get some clarity for a tricky scene or to be inspired by great words. I stopped because I was scared that those words would subconsciously come out in my writing and I’d end up with a story that’s already been told.’

‘Haven’t all stories already been told?’ he asked. ‘It’s how you tell them that makes the difference.’

I was finding it difficult not to like him, especially when he said things like that.

‘I’ll use that as my defence when I’m accused of plagiarism.’

‘Copyright Drew Carolla,’ he laughed.

I got up and stepped over Archie, being careful not to wake him as I went to the kitchen to warm up the soup.

‘What’s the best film ever made that was originally based on a novel?’ Drew asked as he appeared at the doorway. ‘Most accurate, stayed true to the storyline, better than the book.’

‘Ooh. That’s hard,’ I replied. ‘Are films ever better than the book?’

‘Good point,’ he said, dragging his hand across his scruff.

I started slicing the bread. ‘The Shining.’

‘Stephen King hated it, apparently.’

‘Schindler’s List,’ I offered.

‘Amazing film.’

‘The Shawshank Redemption,’ I said dramatically, pointing the knife at him. He held up his hands.

‘I agree! Bloody hell, put down the knife.’

I laughed hard. He seemed to make me do that quite a lot.

‘What about you? What’s hands-down the best film based on a book,’ I asked as he ran his finger across his lips.

‘You’ve seen my bookshelves,’ he replied. ‘Guess.’

I watched his smile as I held his stare. My hand instinctively reached for my chest and I flattened my palm against it, feeling the thrum of my heartbeat thud thudding against my fingers. He took a breath, dropped his eyes to my hand before finding me again, our mutual gaze like a tiny thread pulling us back together. I’d missed the heady first flirtations of when a relationship is still young, yet to be developed into something more. It had been a while since I dated. Had I ever felt them this strong before? I couldn’t think. Didn’t know.

‘Hmm,’ I said, tapping my finger on my bottom lip. His eyes landed there. A blush appeared on his cheeks. ‘Have you enjoyed an evening watching Pride and Prejudice, the Keira Knightly version because she’s so beautiful and prim?’ His lips lifted into a smile and I stepped closer, leaning in, watching his pupils dilate. In and out. ‘Or perhaps a thriller is more your kind of movie?’ I thought back to the book spines packed neatly together in a row. ‘I know,’ I whispered, close to his mouth. ‘Silence of the Lambs.’

‘You’ve got me all figured out,’ he replied, his voice low, the blush a bit deeper.

‘I wish,’ I said, pulling back and throwing a tea towel over my shoulder.

Drew shook his head lightly and laughed.