Chapter 2
2
As much as I would like to say that I had embraced this new life and was now a whizz with a power tool, I don’t think there’s any need for me to disavow you of that belief. I was not. I had never done an iota of DIY in my life. Not once. And now I had a ruddy farmhouse to renovate. My last few days had been spent trying to block up a gap in the fence where some random chickens kept wandering through into the garden and pecking at the French windows. Well, they would be if there were any French windows there. Currently they were pecking at the plastic that was covering the gap. God knew who they belonged to but the way it was going, one might end up in the oven! OK, that was a lie. There was no way on God’s green earth (and to be fair, it was exceptionally green around here. Probably because it hadn’t stopped raining) that I would ever cook anything I’d spoken to.
I dashed out of the car in my huge knickers and third-rate bra and fiddled with the lock, pushing myself into the hall, and grabbed a coat off the hook before running back out and wrangling the wood out of the car while trying to avoid the remaining bits of glass that used to be my rear window.
‘Come on!’ I yelled. Yelling at inanimate objects was another of my more recent hobbies. After I’d been so keen to get the wood into the car, the planks had now got wedged in. I gave them another good heave to release them, which did the trick perfectly. It also released me from my standing position and I ended up flat on my back in one of the many, many muddy puddles that surrounded this ‘idyllically situated residence’.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake!’ I screamed out the words to the leaden sky and lay there, freezing my arse and every other exposed part of me off as tears of frustration flowed down the side of my face. A tap on my shoe made me lift my head the tiniest amount to see a chicken pecking at my now-pretty-much-ruined three-hundred-quid trainers.
‘Go for it. Just carry on and eat me alive. I don’t care any more. Bring your friends.’ I plopped my head back down in the mud. The only sounds were the rain and this persistent sodding chicken clucking softly. In another situation, that might be quite soothing but right now, I’d give anything for the sounds I’d grown up with. The ones I was used to. The ones that suited me. Traffic, sirens and the general hubbub of London. Even the birds were quiet here, sheltering from this infernal rain.
‘If you don’t feed them, there’s every chance of that happening.’
My eyes flew open and, with horror, I found the handsome face of the man I’d clobbered earlier looking down at me. The planks I’d bought were lying next to me.
‘Need a hand?’
I pushed myself up, hands sliding madly in the mud as I did so. He reached down, hooked one hand under my armpit and hoisted me to my feet.
‘Thanks,’ I replied, immediately wrapping my Barbour around me in an attempt to cover as much as possible. Although I was aware he’d already had an eyeful earlier this afternoon. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, but how did you get here and what do you want?’
‘There’s a bloody great gap in your fence line the other side of the paddock.’ His voice was deep with that hint of gravel that normally made my insides do a little sexy dance. Unfortunately, my insides were currently frozen solid and dancing was the last thing on their mind. Raindrops dripped off the brim of his eminently sensible waxed hat as the grey eyes considered me with a blank expression before he dropped his gaze momentarily to look at the wood that was getting wetter by the moment. ‘Is that what that lot’s for?’ He pointed at my purchases.
‘No.’
‘Good, because it’s completely wrong.’
I swallowed the lump I felt forming in my throat. ‘Thanks for that,’ I snapped back. ‘Did you actually have a reason for trespassing or are you just testing out illegal ways onto my property in order to critique my buying habits?’
He held out a packet of nails. ‘You dropped these earlier while you were fighting to get the wood in your car.’
‘Oh. Right.’ I reached out to take them with one hand while making sure my coat was still tight around me. ‘Thanks. Um… how did you know where I lived?’ I was suddenly aware that I was in the middle of nowhere with a strange bloke twice my size. I shoved the packet of nails in my pocket and wrapped the coat even tighter.
‘Don’t worry. I didn’t follow you. It’s a small village. Everyone knows a buyer from London purchased this place recently and you’re a strange face, so I just put two and two together.’ He took a step back. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.’
‘You didn’t.’ The words fired out automatically. I’d been fiercely independent for long enough now that this had become my natural response.
He nodded but it was obvious from his expression he didn’t believe a word.
‘Might be an idea to get some sort of security system fitted. The village isn’t far but you are still out on your own here.’
‘I’ll add it to the list,’ I replied and even I could hear the despondency in my voice.
The man did a tiny squint before holding out his hand. ‘Jesse Woods.’
‘Felicity DeVere.’ I took the shovel-sized hand and shook it. I’d seen his brow twitch as I rolled out my name but he kept any comment to himself. I was sure it would be part of an ‘amusing story’ at the local pub later. Right now, I didn’t care.
Squaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuk!
Both of us looked down at the persistent chicken.
‘You really do need to feed them. They should probably be in the coop in this weather anyway.’
‘Then their owners need to take care of that. I’ve got more than enough on my plate!’
Jesse did that squint again. ‘You are their owner.’
‘What?’ My head snapped up from looking down at the sodden and apparently hungry chicken.
‘The chickens came with the property.’
‘No.’ I held up a hand. ‘No. No, they didn’t.’ I felt the panic rising as my voice did the same. ‘There was absolutely no mention of chickens. I know about the impending sheep, which I haven’t figured out what the hell to do with, but I’m not getting fobbed off with a load of bloody chickens too!’
He gave a shrug. ‘Definitely yours. And it was on the property details.’
‘How come you’re so well informed about all this?’
‘Because my family were the previous owners. My cousin, to be accurate. I saw the details. The chickens were specifically mentioned.’
I stared at Jesse, looked down at the chicken, who looked back up at me, before I returned my gaze to Jesse.
‘I take it you didn’t read the details too well.’
I remained silent. What was I going to say? No, I didn’t actually because I was on a massive bender, busily throwing away everything I’d worked for so that I could end up in the arse end of nowhere, soaked, freezing cold in a dilapidated house wrapped in a Barbour and little else, being judged by a beady-eyed hen.
‘You should really get inside before you freeze to death.’
‘It’s not like it’s any warmer in there,’ I blurted with a shrug, dislodging a small pool of raindrops off my shoulders. I’d begun to forget what hot water actually felt like and, should I ever get the luxury of experiencing it once more, I would never again take it for granted.
Jesse frowned. ‘The heating was working when I checked it over for my cousin. It was left on frost setting to stop the pipes freezing. Have you changed it from that?’
Changed it? I thought these things just all worked automatically…
He tilted his head, water running off the waxed hat in rivulets. ‘Would you like me to pop in and go over it with you?’
I hesitated.
‘Here.’ He pulled a wallet out of the back pocket of his cargo trousers. ‘Do you have a friend or someone you can send this to?’ He held out his driving licence.
I nodded. ‘My phone’s in the car.’ I backed up and opened the door, sitting down carefully, aware that if I’d bent in to grab it I’d have shown him my arse. Not that a man who looked like he did would have taken much notice, bearing in my mind the granny pants and the fact I’d already brained him earlier in the day. I hadn’t missed the butterfly stitch now holding the cut above his eye together.
‘Oh!’ I said, standing up again and pushing the door closed behind me.
‘Problem?’
‘No,’ I said, snapping a picture of his licence. How did he manage to even look good in that? Most people looked like a wanted poster in theirs. I bet his passport photo was good too. Git.
‘I was just remembering… erm, earlier. Sorry again about whacking you with the wood.’
‘No harm done.’ He touched his head under the brim of his hat. ‘Well, not too much anyway. There are those who’d argue I could do with some sense knocking into me.’
‘Sorry. Again.’
There was the briefest flash of a smile. So quick that I wondered if the cold was making me hallucinate. It was such a great smile, I might well have done as by this time, I felt I was pretty susceptible to hallucinations. I tapped on my phone and, with lack of anyone else to contact, sent the photo to myself and shut it off.
‘Done?’
‘Yep.’ I nodded.
‘Good. Come on. You need to get dry and I’ll get the heating on for you.’
‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’
‘Yes. I assumed the agent would do all that, but I guess not.’
‘I asked if there was anything I should know but the estate agent just handed me the key and said it was all pretty self-explanatory.’
The grey eyes momentarily turned stormy once more. ‘OK. I’ll show you some basics.’
* * *
An hour later, I was dry, dressed – including yet another pair of enormous pants – and my house was warm. Well, kind of. There was still plastic sheeting covering several of the window gaps, a material not exactly renowned for its heat-retaining capacity. Not to mention the fact that when you shut the front door, it was so warped that the wind still blew freely through the gaps. The back door wasn’t much better.
I sat staring around me. What had I done?
‘You OK?’ The deep voice jolted me out of my daze.
‘Oh! Yes. Fine. Thanks.’
‘You look…’ I met his eyes, the handsome face set in a thoughtful frown. ‘Stunned,’ he finished.
‘Me?’ I replied, too quickly. ‘No. Not at all. Absolutely all going to plan. Just a couple of hiccups which,’ I put my hand out, ‘thanks to you, are now under control.’
Jesse looked back at me, clearly not buying it for a second, but I held his gaze, determinedly, attempting to block out the fact that he’d already seen me lying flat on my back in the mud, raging at the sky.
‘Right. All under control, eh?’
‘Absolutely.’ I gave him my best winning smile, the one I’d used to close the many deals I’d made as I’d clawed my way up the ladder of success. The one that always worked. The smile that won clients over when they were wavering, just as Jesse was now. And then he returned it. Just as they always did.
‘Good effort but I’m not buying it.’
I felt my jaw drop.
‘What?’
‘I can certainly imagine it fools a lot of people but I’m afraid I’m not one of them.’
I turned back to the strong black coffee I’d made when I’d returned from the shower.
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
Jesse shifted his weight. ‘Pretty sure you do, but I’m not going to argue with you.’ I glanced back at him. ‘There’s too many planks of wood around here to do that.’
‘Ha ha.’ I turned away, partly to hide my confusion. I’d honed that smile over the years and it always worked, closed the deal, swung a decision my way. Until now. ‘It was an accident.’
‘It was a joke.’
I threw him a glance and he gave a shrug. He held my gaze for a moment then blew out a sigh.
‘Well, then, if you’ve got everything under control, I’ll be on my way.’
‘Right.’ I got to my feet. ‘Yes. OK. Thanks again for the help.’
‘You’re welcome.’ He took a few steps towards the badly fitting front door and I followed him. Suddenly, he stopped and turned and I was unexpectedly a lot closer than I planned. He smelled of clean laundry. No aftershave. Hurriedly, I took a step back, putting a little more space between us, and swallowed.
‘If you change your mind about having it all under control…’ Jesse glanced down at the minimalist and ridiculously expensive console table I’d placed by the door. The receipt from the DIY shop was on it, amongst a pile of yet unopened letters. His eyes took in those too, but his expression gave nothing away – another new experience. I’d made a point of studying people, learning how to read them, and it had held me in good stead with my work. It had helped me tailor my pitch to clients. But this guy? He wasn’t just a closed book; he was a closed book with a lock on it under a pile of other closed books. In a locked library.
Jesse leant over, picked up the Mont Blanc pen sitting alongside and scribbled something on the back of the receipt. ‘That’s my number.’ I raised an eyebrow and the grey eyes danced with amusement. ‘You think I’m hitting on you?’
‘Are you?’
‘No. Just to be clear, that,’ he pointed at the paper, ‘is me offering help in case you need it. That’s all. Nothing else.’
‘Good to know.’ There was a hint of tease in my voice.
‘You’ll be relieved to know I don’t go around trying to pick up women in DIY stores.’
‘Big relief,’ I replied.
Jesse gave me a glance. ‘And,’ he added, ‘if it makes you feel better, you’re not really my type.’
The smile on my face felt like a rictus. How on earth could that make anyone ‘feel better’?
‘I see.’
He turned to go, his hand on the latch.
‘Just out of interest, what type exactly do you think I am?’
He looked over his shoulder, the eyes wary now. I saw his Adam’s apple bob.
‘That feels like a question I probably shouldn’t answer.’
‘No, please,’ I said, moving around him and leaning against the draughty door. ‘I’m interested.’
He looked down at me. My uniform for years had been sky-high heels and I was used to meeting strange men on a more even height. But right now, in two pairs of thick woollen socks and some cloud sliders, I was at a distinct disadvantage in that department. Not only was he taller but he was also built a whole lot sturdier than the wreck of a house I’d bought.
‘I’d better be going.’
I moved to block the latch he’d momentarily let go of with my body.
He met my challenging stare with one of his own. I was more than aware that, if he’d wanted, he could quite easily have moved me aside with one hand and been on his way. He let out a sigh.
‘I’m not really into city types. That’s all I meant.’
‘And you think I’m a city type?’
He glanced around at the minimalist furniture that looked entirely out of place, the high-end branded sweatshirt I wore that clearly wasn’t a knock-off, and then studied my face, my well-honed ‘natural look’ having been applied following my shower.
‘I know you are.’
‘And clearly you feel there’s something wrong with that.’ I had no idea why I suddenly felt so defensive. Since when did I care what some random bloke thought of me, even if he was Greek-god handsome and had delivered heating and hot water into my disaster of a home?
‘That’s not what I said.’
‘You may as well have.’
‘Then I apologise. It wasn’t what I meant. I just wanted to reassure you that I wasn’t interested so you had nothing to be worried about.’ He reached around me, gently but purposefully, before looking down and meeting my eyes once again. ‘The offer of help is still there. If you want it. Enjoy your evening.’ With that, he twisted the latch and waited for me to move. When I did, he strode with long-legged paces back to his pick-up. I closed the door but could still clearly hear the engine turn over and the tyres splash through the mud on the way out before I was once more surrounded by the overwhelming silence of the place. Being efficient, I entered Jesse’s number into my phone, typed, Thank you into a message and sent it off before dropping the paper into the bin. His words, however, were still tumbling around in my head.
‘Who cares what he thinks?’ I snapped before grabbing my laptop from the coffee table and stomping up the creaking stairs to bed. There, tucked under three blankets and two duvets against the chill wind coming in through the rotten windows, I began looking for tradesmen to help me turn this old house into something liveable. If I did it right, I might even be able to make some money on it.
I had no intention of staying here. Obviously, I wouldn’t be able to go back to my old job. That ship had most definitely sailed, hit an iceberg and sunk in the middle of the ocean, but I could certainly get my old life back. The city life that Jesse had so sniffily dismissed. I’d built that life from nothing once before and I’d do it again. This time, I had my savings and years’ worth of wisdom behind me, unlike the teenager I’d been back then. I could do this. I would do this. And without Jesse… I pulled up the picture on my phone and studied his driving licence. Without Jesse Woods’ help.