Chapter 5
CHAPTER 5
JESSY
A ngie sighs heavily. “Have you tried calling it?”
“How can I call my phone when that’s what I lost?”
I stare around me in dismay, hating that I feel as if my right arm has been cut off.
“I hate being so dependent on a microchip.” I grumble as I turf out the contents of my bag one more time, hoping I merely overlooked it before.
“I’ll call it then.”
Angie calls the number and we fall silent, straining to hear the familiar ringtone.
We are greeted by silence, causing my heart to sink. “Where could it be?”
I drop down into the chair by the warm fire and gaze at my friend with despair.
“You must have left it at Granthaven Manor.” She says with a rueful smile.
“Possibly.”
I wrack my brains to picture where I had it last and sigh when I remember I left it on the side of the bathroom vanity unit when I used the facilities.
“I’ll have to go back there.”
“What now?”
Angie groans. “You’ll have to go on your own because I’m due to leave for work in ten minutes.”
Angie works at the Pigeon Trail, which is a pub on the outskirts of Granthaven. It merely reminds me that I also need to look for a job because the job offers must have been delayed in the post because I’ve had nothing back from the zillions of letters I’ve sent. It’s actually soul destroying and my future plan of world domination is now uncertain.
“It’s fine. I’ll head back there. Karen may still be around.”
“If she’s not, ask Bert. He’s probably taking a break in the potting shed. I heard he spends most of his time in there these days.”
We share a grin because Bert has a man cave set up there with a woodburner among other things and enjoys many a happy hour drinking brandy, lager and anything else he can squirrel away while watching football on his phone.
I sigh heavily as I spy my boots by the door, hating the thought of leaving the warm fire to head back into the frosty winter.
“I should be going, anyway.” I sigh.
“But mum said you could stay here.”
Angie adds. “Make sure you come back later. It’s too cold to stay at home alone.”
“I’ll see.”
I smile, but we already know I’ll be spending the night in my own freezing attic room as always. Despite the fact I adore Angie’s family, their house is small, like all the cottages in the village are, and I feel bad for imposing on them.
We leave together and as Angie dives into her small car and offers a prayer to the god of minis that it starts, I wave her goodbye and head back down the frozen path toward the lake.
Despite the fact I’m freezing, I love walking in winter. Granthaven has the most fantastic scenery, and it’s doubtful I will meet anyone on my journey. We are a small community untouched by modern living and it’s rather charming, if not a hard life to live.
As I head down the cobbled path by the side of the church, the wind blows, causing me to shiver in my cold wellington boots. I grasp my coat a little tighter around me and attempt to close any gaps for the icy wind to find its way through onto my already frozen skin.
The air is crisp and cold and every breath I take is full of oxygen, with no contamination. That is the advantage of living here. Nothing pollutes our glorious countryside outside of Bert’s petrol lawn mower or his quad bike.
Everything is quiet and still, only the occasional rustling of the remaining leaves in the trees disturbing the peace. I head through the gap in the hedge and down the grassy embankment towards the partially frozen lake that glistens under the weak winter sun.
I stop for a minute and admire the intricate patterns that have formed on the ice, nature’s own blank canvas to decorate at will. Even the ducks have sought shelter from the elements, their usual company nowhere to be found.
My nose is frozen and my cheeks sting as the winter chill grips my face in its icy fingers. My feet no longer have any sensation in them, so I reluctantly carry on my journey.
I ignore the sign that warns me this land is private and to keep out because the villagers stopped taking notice of them years ago. Lady Townsend always encouraged us to delight in her gardens, something we were extremely grateful for.
As I approach the huge manor house, it appears even colder than it did this morning. It’s an austere building that rises majestically from the landscape, dominating the skyline and reminding me of my station in life. My thoughts turn to the new owner and I wonder what he will think of it. Come to think of it, I wonder about the new owner because out of curiosity I searched for him online and knew immediately he wouldn’t last five minutes here.
He has a celebrity girlfriend and a life that the rest of us can only imagine, and yet as I studied him closer I saw the twinkle in his eyes as he smiled at the camera. He is certainly good looking, a little too good looking, and I hate the interest I have in him. If I’m honest, I hate to fangirl over anyone unless you count the Hemsworth brothers. They deserve all the adulation they can get.
I near the huge front door and wonder if I should just inch it open, but I’m not sure if the new owners are here yet and the last thing I want is to be caught trespassing – well, indoors, anyway.
I ring the huge iron bell pull that must be ancient by now and as the bell jangles, I stamp my frozen feet and blow on my fingers in an attempt to warm them up.
I listen for footsteps but hear nothing and a shiver runs down my spine as an icy blast catches me off-guard. I ring the bell again, more in desperation than anything, because it now appears that retrieving my phone is the most important thing in my life. I may miss someone phoning with a job offer, and I will lose out because my phone isn’t glued to my hand like it should be.
I almost give up before I detect the dragging of a bolt on the other side of the door and my heart rate increases as I prepare to apologise for disturbing whoever is on the other side.
As the door opens, I take a step back because I wasn’t expecting it to be him .
Luke Adams himself.
The new owner and the new star of my wandering imagination stands before me in all his glory.
I hate that there is an immediate spark of attraction that warms me far more effectively than any of my previous attempts and I openly stare at his warm smile that is drawing me in and rendering me speechless.
“Hi.”
His voice is deep, smooth and almost caressing and I’m sure my face is flaming right now, as well as my libido.
“Um, hi.”
My voice is nowhere near as smooth and seductive, rather high and squeaky if I’m honest and I shift awkwardly on the spot, wishing like crazy that Karen had opened the door.
“Can I help you?”
He is speaking, but I don’t register his words as I gaze at his chiselled face, his cheekbones a master stroke of God’s genius and a strong jawline that is slightly shaded by dark stubble. His eyes are a deep chestnut brown – like acorns – that have a warmness that draws me in and holds me captive. His slightly bushy eyebrows are raised in a quizzical expression, reminding me he asked me a question and I say awkwardly, “I’m, um, sorry to disturb you but I was, um, here earlier and think I left my phone behind.”
“Earlier?” He arches his brow and I stumble over my words.
“Yes, um, in the bedrooms. I mean, making the beds, playing housekeeper, you, um, know the kind of thing.”
Another icy blast catches me off-guard and he angles his head and opens the door wider. “Come in, it’s bloody freezing out there.”
Never has a sentence made me react so fast and I waste no time in pushing through the door into a hallway that is no warmer than the porch outside.
I notice his face is also a little pinched, and he is shivering, despite the huge padded jacket he is wearing.
“I’m sorry, you must have just arrived and I’m disturbing you.”
I apologise, glancing around for any other sign of life.
He chuckles softly and I now understand the power of this man as his smile could light up a room and reveals an incredibly handsome man. His teeth are perfectly aligned and gleaming white, a mastery of dentistry that doesn’t come cheap and his lips are full and inviting and curled in a genuine, friendly smile that is doing a very good job of putting me at ease.
“No, actually I’ve been here for hours, but I can’t get warm. Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the living room. There’s a fire going great guns in there and I’m definitely sleeping in there tonight.”
I follow him nervously, every step I take full of curiosity and intrigue concerning this man. I am taken aback by him because I never expected him to be so, well, normal, in a male model, completely out of my league kind of way.
I follow him, hating the turbulent thoughts running through my mind right now and as we reach the living room, I almost groan at the sudden burst of hot air that wafts across my face as he opens the door.
“Come in. I’d say take your coat off, but that would be certain suicide.”
He laughs and I’m mesmerised by the deep rich rumble that comes from his throat, all husky and masculine and devastating for my heart.
He points to a dusty threadbare chair and winks, causing my heart to dive into free-fall.
“Take a seat and tell me where you think you left your phone.”
As the flames flicker and crackle in the grate, the warmth from his personality as well as the fire makes me relax a little and as I sink into the chair, he takes the one opposite and for a brief moment in time, my world is perfect.