Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
JACK
J ack had been standing there for several long moments, watching as his unexpected guest settled into his sofa.
His favourite sofa.
He’d had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing when she’d stared lovingly at the fire and let out a happy little sigh. When she’d turned to glance out of the window at the swirling snowflakes and crashing waves beyond, he could swear she was about to pass out from a joy overload. Not that he could blame her, of course… the view had the same effect on him.
When she’d slipped her shoes off and tucked her feet up underneath her, Jack hadn’t been able to hold back his snort of laughter any longer. It was a bit of a shame, as the peaceful tableau had ended abruptly.
Caroline Cook snapped to attention. The look of mortification on her pretty face left him caught somewhere between wanting to giggle and wanting to know how anyone could be quite so cheeky.
‘When I said make yourself comfortable , it was only a figure of speech!’ he said, his voice coming out all huffy and indignant, even though he was having a seriously hard time keeping a smile off his face.
Caroline promptly attempted to jump to her feet, stumbled on her discarded shoes, and toppled straight back into the cushions.
That did it. Jack let out a loud, surprised roar of laughter and received a deliciously red-faced, sheepish grin in return.
‘That’s my favourite sofa, too,’ he said. Then, with great effort, he straightened his face again and even managed a little frown. ‘Anyway – follow me!’
Jack turned and padded off towards the kitchen. He could hear his visitor struggling up out of the cushions again, though judging by the lighter-than-air footsteps that followed him two seconds later, she hadn’t bothered to put her shoes back on.
‘You know you’re leaving wet footprints, right?’ came a small voice.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack shrugged, ‘the house is used to it!’
It was true – he was always tracking in sand and saltwater from the beach – much to Trish’s consternation. This time, though, it was clean water from the shower for a change. Jack hadn’t taken long to get out… not compared to his usual hour-long soaks, anyway! He’d was too curious to know what Caroline Cook was doing on his doorstep. On top of that, a small voice at the back of his head kept pointing out that it might not be the best idea to let a reporter roam around the house completely unsupervised.
After a quick rub-down with his towel, he’d thrown on a pair of ancient jeans and a tatty tee-shirt and dashed back downstairs. Maybe he should have taken a bit more care with his appearance considering he had a guest, but he was off duty. Besides, she’d invited herself over - so she’d just have to put up with him as he was.
‘So,’ said Jack, rounding the large slate kitchen island and facing her still slightly pink face across its expanse.
‘Erm… yeah,’ she said, staring at him.
He had to hand it to her, she was making impressive eye contact, given the circumstances.
‘You’re probably wondering who I am,’ she added.
‘Not really,’ said Jack.
‘Huh?’
‘I already know who you are!’ said Jack. Again, he had to bite back a smile at the look of pure surprise that crossed her face. ‘You’re Caroline Cook, editor of the Crumbleton Times and Echo.’
‘I… I… how?’ said Caroline.
‘Come on… you didn’t think I’d let a complete stranger into my house while I was having a shower, did you?’ said Jack.
‘But… I,’ Caroline paused and shook her head. ‘But we are strangers!’
‘Not really,’ said Jack.
‘We’ve not met before!’ said Caroline.
‘Well, no,’ said Jack, ‘but I do know for a fact that you’re not an over-eager, crazed fan who’s going to run off with my underwear the minute I turn my back!’
Caroline let out a little splutter. ‘Well no… I guess you would think that.’
Jack watched with interest as she started to fidget. He was having a seriously hard time keeping a straight face, but he didn’t feel like letting her off the hook too soon.
Caroline broke eye contact and started to stare around the room as though she was looking for an escape route. Her eyes landed on his awards - dotted onto the same shelf as the tea and coffee – all woven together with a string of tinsel.
‘Very festive,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Mmm,’ he said. It was impossible to get a read on the woman. She was a strange mixture of supremely cheeky, horribly guilty and ridiculously funny. ‘So… I suppose you’re going to splash my name all over the front page of the paper next week?’
‘Nope,’ said Caroline, snapping back to look at him. ‘Actually, I came to ask you for a favour.’
Jack’s eyebrows flew up. Of all the things he’d been expecting – from stuttering excuses to bold-faced interview questions – a favour hadn’t even crossed his mind.
‘Oh?’ he said lightly, as though she hadn’t just completely thrown him for a loop.
‘I was hoping you might be up for turning on Crumbleton’s Christmas lights?’
‘Isn’t it a bit late for that?’ said Jack. ‘Christmas is in a week, right? Or have I fallen into some kind of weird vortex?’
‘I’ve had a few problems finding a special guest,’ huffed Caroline.
‘Well… I’m not sure I’m all that special,’ said Jack, folding his arms over his chest and holding her gaze. ‘I mean, I thought you found my last performance… how did you put it again…? Ah, I remember - “So wooden the trees in Crumbleton Clump have more star-quality.” ‘
‘I… you… I…’ spluttered Caroline, the look of mortification firmly back on her face.
‘And then you gave me three stars,’ said Jack, fighting back a bubble of laughter, ‘for the fact that I spoke passable English.’
‘You… you…’
Jack’s grin finally broke through his stony facade, but going by the look on his guest’s face, it didn’t do anything to ease her horror that he really did know exactly who she was and what she’d written about him.
‘Yep,’ he said, unable to contain his glee, ‘I’m afraid I’m intimately acquainted with your writing.’
‘Oh,’ said Caroline, turning away from him. ‘Shit.’
Jack sniggered.
‘I’m sorry to intrude,’ said Caroline, throwing him an apologetic look. ‘I should go.’
‘Wait!’ said Jack quickly. ‘Now that I’ve got you here, I’d love to know what you think of my “ostentatious holiday home.” What was it you said…? “It’ll be empty fifty weeks of the year, and things will only be worse when the rich nincompoop is in residence.” ‘
Caroline’s eyes widened, and she nodded slowly.
‘Nincompoop,’ she whispered, echoing him. ‘I… I did say that.’
‘So,’ said Jack, deciding it was finally time to give her a break, ‘what do you fancy - tea or coffee?’
Caroline went completely still, and then a broad, beautiful smile spread across her face. At last, it looked like she’d cottoned on. Far from being upset about what she’d written - Jack was just enjoying winding her up.
‘You, Jack Jones,’ she muttered, ‘are a git.’
‘Better than nincompoop,’ chuckled Jack, reaching for two gigantic mugs with dancing gingerbread men painted on the front. ‘And for the record, it’s just Jack. You don’t need to keep using my full name!’
‘But that’s just… weird,’ she said.
‘Excuse me?’ said Jack.
‘It’s like calling Ryan Reynolds… well… Ryan!’ said Caroline. ‘It’s just wrong!
‘But that’s his name,’ laughed Jack.
‘You’re a movie star,’ she huffed, ‘of course you wouldn’t get it!’
Jack raised an eyebrow and promptly decided not to mention the fact that he’d almost peed himself with excitement when he’d met Ryan Reynolds for the first time.
Ryan. Just Ryan!
‘Actually… I kinda get where you’re coming from,’ he said. ‘But as I’m off-duty, and you’re in my house… can I be just Jack?’
Caroline cocked her head. ‘Okie dokie, just Jack, I’ll do my best.’
‘Cheers!’ he said. ‘Now… what do you want to drink?’
‘Coffee, please,’ she said. ‘Mainly because I want to see if you have to call a maid or something to get that beast of a machine to work!’
‘You seriously think I have a maid hiding around here somewhere?’ he laughed.
‘And a whole room full of security guards,’ said Caroline. ‘I mean, why else would you let me in?!’
‘Good question,’ said Jack. ‘Maybe I shouldn’t admit to this… but just for the record – there’s no one else here.’
‘Really?’ said Caroline, raising a sceptical eyebrow.
‘Yep – just me on my lonesome,’ said Jack. ‘I come here when I need some peace and quiet… and when I need to get away from the press.’
‘Oops, my bad,’ said Caroline.
Jack shrugged. ‘You don’t count.’
‘Jeez, thanks!’ she said with a smirk and an extravagant eye roll.
‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ said Jack quickly. ‘You’ve got more writing talent in your little finger than most of the reporters I’ve had to deal with.’
‘I… oh!’ said Caroline, her cheeks turning pink again. ‘Well… thanks.’
‘I’m serious,’ said Jack, turning to the coffee machine and firing up the grinder before meeting her eye again. ‘What I meant was – you don’t appear to have a long-lens stashed up your jumper.’
‘Well, that’s true at least!’ said Caroline. ‘I guess now might be a good time to apologise for being so mean in my reviews. I shouldn’t have—’
‘Stop,’ chuckled Jack. ‘They were hilarious, even if my ego took a bit of a battering. And just for the record – I do get the concern about me owning a house here – leaving it empty when I’m working and bringing unwanted attention when I am here.’
Caroline looked both intrigued and mildly uncomfortable. ‘I really am sorry I wrote that. You can buy property wherever you fancy – it’s got nothing to do with me.’
‘You’re a reporter,’ said Jack with a shrug, turning back towards the coffee machine. ‘Everything’s to do with you. But the real story here is that this is my home – my one-and-only. I don’t own anywhere else. Filming drags me all over the place, but there’s nowhere I’d rather be than here.’
‘Well… I…’ Caroline paused. ‘I can see why,’ she said eventually.
‘Right?’ said Jack. ‘That view!’
Caroline followed his gaze through the window, and they both went quiet for a long moment.
‘I have to say, it’s nice to be sleeping in my own bed for a change,’ said Jack, ‘instead of some random hotel or a trailer on set.’
‘So glamorous!’ said Caroline with a little sigh.
‘It’s really not, you know,’ said Jack.
He knew he probably sounded like a spoiled git enjoying a pity party, but the reality of shooting on location wasn’t nearly as glamorous or exciting as everyone seemed to think.
‘It’s long days, uncomfortable nights, and hour after boring hour spent in makeup. Then – after months of living in a weird little bubble – you get dumped into a room full of press where you’re expected to sound halfway human.’
‘Hmm,’ said Caroline. ‘I guess I never thought about it like that. Sounds… chaotic?’
‘That’s a good word for it,’ said Jack. ‘I mean, I love the acting part of it all but… let’s just say I’ve been looking forward to coming home for some peace and quiet. Now here I am, and the press are all over me again!’
Jack winked at Caroline, but she looked more than a little bit guilty.
‘Sorry,’ she muttered.
‘Don’t be!’ said Jack. ‘I’m just pulling your leg. You might not be a fan of my work, but—’
‘Hey Jack?’ said Caroline, cutting straight across him.
It was probably a good thing, as he’d been about to make a total goofball of himself by telling her outright that he was a fan of her work. How cringey could he get?!
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you think we can start over?’ she said. ‘Would you mind pretending you never read any of those stupid things I wrote about you?’
‘Hm…,’ said Jack. ‘As you asked so nicely, I guess we could do that. It’s Christmas, after all, right?’
‘Right,’ said Caroline, the relief evident in her voice.
‘While we’re apologising for things,’ said Jack, shifting a stack of scripts out of the way so that he could place her cup of coffee in front of her, ‘sorry about the state of the place. I wasn’t expecting guests! I’ve not been back long and, to be honest, I’m still getting over the jetlag.’
‘Is that what the mad cold-water swimming is about?’ said Caroline, sipping her coffee and letting out a contented little sigh that, for some reason, did something strange to Jack’s stomach.
‘Swimming? I mean… yeah, it does help,’ he said, ‘but I just love it. I’m in and out of the water all the time when I’m here.’
‘Weirdo,’ said Caroline.
‘I’ll take that as a compliment,’ said Jack.
‘You definitely should!’ said Caroline.
‘So,’ said Jack, sliding into a seat opposite her and raising his mug, ‘here’s to unexpected guests.’
Caroline mirrored him.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘tell me more about this Christmas lights thing!’