Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
JESSY
T he worst thing about storming off in a huff is the only person bothered about that is me. I left my stupid phone behind, which was the entire reason for my visit in the first place.
I stomp back down the path toward the lake, muttering curses about Luke flaming Adams under my breath. What a moron. A stupid, clueless, gorgeously handsome idiot, who I definitely hate right now. His arrogance infuriates me, even though his kindness is all I can think of when I picture his soft smile cast in my direction.
I am conflicted, angry, and God damn it – interested.
I give myself a stern talking to as I march home.
He is insufferable.
He is arrogant.
He is stupid.
He is gorgeous.
Aargh. Why did I ever go there? Now I can’t erase his image from my mind or those burning eyes and hot sexy winks he throws around like love darts. His seriously wicked smile and tender hold make my heart beat faster. He is everything he appears and more, and yet I have no business being attracted and repelled by him in equal measure.
He has a girlfriend, for goodness’ sake. A celebrity one at that, and his hospitality was just a way of passing the time.
I left my freaking phone behind.
I can’t believe I was so stupid and now I must invent a reason and a way to get it back without him knowing.
To make matters worse, my home is like walking into a freezer and there will definitely be no hot water. I haven’t eaten and there is no food in the house, unless you count a stale loaf of bread and handful of nuts as a sumptuous feast.
I scream inside my head and picture Angie’s home lit like a Christmas tree and throwing out serious heat from the wood-burning stove and I sigh. I should go there and take advantage of their hospitality and first thing in the morning get my own house in order.
“He said what?”
Angie’s face is etched in horror as I relay the events that happened yesterday. I was asleep when she returned home after the pub closed and as soon as I took my first breath this morning, it was to rant about the celebrity who is about to ruin our lives.
“He’s selling up!”
Angie appears as worried as I am, and I nod miserably. “One year. That’s all he has to keep it for and then he’ll sell to the highest bidder and wander back to Manchester with several million pounds in his bank.”
“This is a disaster.”
Angie is spot on because it is. It’s everyone’s greatest fear that a huge multi-national company will buy Granthaven and change it forever. The manor house will become a hotel, or a conference centre. The houses will either be sold off to second home seekers from London, or the rents will increase to market rates, effectively putting most of out on the street. It is the worst threat this village has ever faced and I hate that if the man responsible winked in my general direction, I would forgive him in a heartbeat.
“What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know.”
I take a deep breath and change direction.
“Angie.”
“What?”
“I don’t suppose you can head up there and get my phone. In my anger, I stomped off and left it there.”
“I’m on it.”
Angie is out of the door quicker than a greyhound in a trap, and I smile to myself. She just can’t wait to check him out for herself and, knowing my friend, give him a piece of her mind while she’s at it.
I head across to the frosted window and watch her running down the street, a heavy padded coat gently brushing against the top of her walking boots, and a woolly hat pulled down firmly on her head. I wonder if Luke Adams will discover that she is wearing a onesie underneath. It’s the only thing that keeps us warm in our beds at night and we celebrate the creator of them. There are no slinky nightdresses in Granthaven in the middle of winter. Thermal socks and underwear under a onesie are standard.
I dress in record speed, loathe to use any of their hot water while I shower and head down to breakfast where Margery is frying bacon in the kitchen, the woodburner already giving out serious heat. The scent of coffee and smoky bacon fills my senses, and her warm smile earns one of my own back.
“Did you sleep well, love?”
“Like a log thanks Margery.”
I am lying because I slept fitfully if I’m honest. A certain cheeky wink and soft smile heating my blood far more effectively than the thermals I slept in.
“Where did Angie go in such a hurry? I thought Harry Styles must be visiting.”
She winks, causing me to laugh because Angie has an extremely soft spot for the man in question.
“She went to retrieve my phone from the manor house.”
“Ah, now I see the urgency.”
She flips the bacon and grins. “If it’s not the dashing footballer who made her run faster than an Olympic sprinter, it’s to take a look at her idol – that Morgana woman.”
I hadn’t considered that and in Angie’s case was probably more of a temptation than Luke Adams. She is addicted to Morgana’s podcasts, Instagram and TikTok feeds and is her number one fan, and once again my heart sinks when I picture the happy couple together. I could never compete with that and I should forget I ever met Luke flaming Adams.
One bacon sandwich and a mug of coffee later, Angie bursts through the door, clutching my phone in her gloved hand.
“Got it!” She is out of breath and her cheeks are glowing, and Margery pours some coffee into her usual mug and nods toward the fire.
“Here you go, lovely. Drink this while I make you a sandwich.”
“Thanks mum.”
Angie shrugs off her coat and boots and presses the phone into my hand and groans.
“Just my luck.”
“What is?”
“Bloody Karen Sims was there. Apparently, there is nobody home and the fires have long since burned out. Bert is currently grumbling about wasting logs as he sets about lighting them again.”
“So you didn’t see Luke?” I ask, a little disappointed not to have Angie’s view of him and she shakes her head.
“No, Karen told me she arrived to see if he needed anything from the store. There can’t have been much in the house and she thought he must be starving.”
“I wonder where he is?”
I’m mystified, although the house is certainly big enough to lose yourself in, so I’m not overly concerned.
I glance at my phone and frown because there is a slip of paper sticking out from the phone case that definitely wasn’t there yesterday.
As I pull it out, I note a few words and a telephone number.
“What’s that?” Angie asks, as she sips her steaming mug of coffee.
“A note.”
“Well, obviously.” She rolls her eyes. “What does it say?”
“Call me.”
“No way.”
Angie leans forward to take a look and gasps, “You’ve only got Luke frigging Adam’s phone number. Most girls would kill for that. You could sell it online and make a fortune.”
“I may just do that.”
With an angry frown, I screw up the paper and toss it into the fire and Angie yells, “Stop! What are you doing?”
“Why do I want to speak to that man? I am so angry with him.”
Margery turns and stares at me in surprise.
“Why? What happened?”
I fill her in and she gasps, “That’s terrible. This will affect everyone in Granthaven. He can’t just write us off without knowing about this place first. He can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
Angie’s dad, Peter Barnes, heads into the room, and Margery fills him in on the story and he sighs deeply.
“I was afraid that would happen.”
“We must stop him, Peter.” Margery says, and I hate the worried gleam in her eye.
“I doubt we can influence him, love. These footballers think of nothing but the game and the next flash car.”
I stare at the burning note in the fire and determination settles around me. Somebody has got to try at least and if we’re going down, it won’t be without a fight.