‘Are you ready for towels?’ came Miller’s deep and seductive voice. I had a feeling I could be ready for anything he offered. I hurried across to stand behind the door, opening it and using it to shield my naked body. He was true to his word. His eyes were tightly closed and he stretched out his arms with a bundle of black towels balanced on them, along with the shirt he’d promised. I quickly snatched them off him and shut the door, letting out a tense sigh. Why was I letting myself like him so much? He lived in America. I couldn’t make a relationship with a guy in my village work, so what chance did I have with a pretty ginormous ocean separating us? Plus, he wasn’t the settling-down kind from what I’d heard earlier. ‘I put one of my spare pairs of boxers there for you as well, as I figured your panties would be wet,’ he called.
‘Seriously soaked,’ I yelled back, then cringed, wondering what he’d have made of that stupid comment.
I dried myself off, then wrapped my pretty underwear set in a towel and tried to squeeze as much moisture out as I could before stuffing them into my clutch. Giggling, I pulled on his pair of tight black jersey boxers and said a silent prayer of thanks that my boobs were still pert enough to go braless under this shirt. I picked up the wet dress from where I’d abandoned it on the tiled floor and draped it over the heated towel rail, glad to be seeing the last of it. I emerged from the bathroom in a plume of steam, a towel turban around my damp hair and face scrubbed free of make-up and wondered if he’d run screaming for the hills to see me like this.
‘Jesus,’ I gasped. ‘Biteable.’
I should have knocked on the door first, as he was stripping off with his back to me. He’d discarded his wet jacket, waistcoat, and shirt, and was just bending over to remove his trousers. However good his pert bottom had looked in the church, encased in a suit, was nothing compared to seeing it now, waving in my face in just a pair of tight white boxers.
‘What did you say?’ he asked as he straightened up and turned around.
‘Bot … damn … gorge … holy hell … Jesus .... body … firm … blahhh. Can’t speak!’ I stuttered, squeezing my eyes tightly shut as I nearly hyperventilated. His chest and abs were a work of art. My God! With the exception of some of the half-naked men I’d ogled during the Olympics on TV, pausing and moving forward frame by frame, I’d never seen such a toned body in my life. ‘You’re beautiful.’
‘Exactly my thoughts when I saw you in the church, Abbie Carter,’ he chuckled as I felt him waft past, the scent of cinnamon assaulting my nostrils as I heard the bathroom door close behind me. I made it over to his large bed and plonked my backside on it, then flopped back in a daze. I was in lust at first sight. That was all it was on my part. Pure lust. But then why did I feel so at ease in his company? I took some long, slow, deep breaths as I heard the shower turn on, then the sound of him singing along to one of Nevada 6’s latest hits, and tried to drag my mind out of the gutter as I imagined him naked in there.
‘Thank God,’ I stated when there was a knock on the suite door. Something other than Miller for me to focus on. I padded over to open it and found Georgie outside.
‘Interrupting?’ she asked, angling her head to try and see in the room.
‘He’s in the shower, alone.’
‘Naked?’ she gasped, putting a hand to her chest. ‘Oh my!’
‘Tell me about it,’ I groaned.
‘Why aren’t you in there with him?’
‘Hello, stranger, Abbie Carter, nice to meet you.’ I held out my hand in greeting and she swatted it away, laughing. ‘How long have you known me? I’m not a one-night-stand kind of girl.’
‘Me neither, but I might be persuaded to change my mind for him,’ she grinned. ‘Anyway, here’s some mascara and grey eye shadow, and they’ve dried out your shoes, they’re both here in the hall. Come down when you’re ready. They’re setting up the dance floor and I’m already on my way to being pleasantly drunk. I see a bit of a shimmy coming on, a little shake of the old boot-tey. Hmmm, loving this sexy shirt-dress look on you, sweetie. See you in a while, and if I don’t, have fun!’
‘Georgie,’ I called after her retreating back, needing some advice right now. She just waved and disappeared up the corridor. I carried the shoes inside and headed over to the dressing table to rummage out the hairdryer, using Miller’s comb to detangle my hair as I set to work. Ten minutes later, I was looking a bit more respectable, and he was still in the bathroom. I felt kind of awkward standing here, so I put on my shoes and stuffed the borrowed make-up in my clutch, then went to knock on the bathroom door. ‘Miller? Are you ok in there?’
‘Sorry, just shaving. I’ll be out in a minute.’
‘Ermmm, I think I’ll head down and let you get dressed in private. Plus, I need a drink. What’s your tipple?’
‘My what?’
‘Your favourite drink.’
‘Oh right. Jack Daniels and Coke on the rocks. I won’t be long though, why don’t you wait?’
‘No, I’ll see you down there,’ I replied, and hurried to the door before I changed my mind. I’d had more than enough excitement for one day. Seeing him shower fresh in his boxers again would probably finish me off.
‘I scared him off, he’s not coming back,’ I sighed as I sat at the bar, the ice in his drink having melted already.
‘He’s coming back. How were you supposed to know there were two bars open for the reception tonight? He’s also the best man, remember? He’s probably schmoozing with the other guests as he tries to find you,’ Georgie said in a reassuring tone. ‘His actions aren’t that of a guy who’s not interested, Abbie.’
‘Even if that was true, look at me now. I look like an entrant to a body-painting exhibition with all this damn dye staining my skin. In fact, I look like Joseph in his technicolour dream coat, without the damn coat. And I’m wearing men’s boxers!’
‘Got to say I’m finding it all very amusing. Thank God you brought me along.’
‘I’m so happy I’ve provided the entertainment for you today.’
‘Excuse me, are you Miss Abbie Carter?’ the barman interrupted.
‘Yes,’ I drew out, giving him a puzzled look.
‘I have this for you,’ he replied, handing over a letter on luxury Severn Manor stationery. He smiled and headed off to serve someone else.
‘Intriguing,’ Georgie stated, as I saw my name written on the front in small, neat script. I ripped it open and pulled out a short letter, inhaling sharply as I started to read, and disappointment slammed into me. I suddenly felt really down. ‘What, what is it?’ she asked. I shook my head, and she snatched the letter off me and started to read it.
‘Dear Abbie, I’m so sorry to do this to you, but I’ve had to leave unexpectedly … Oh no, he’s gone?’ she gasped.
‘Told you it was too good to be true,’ I replied, feeling dejected and rejected. Apparently some business crisis had demanded his attention and he’d had to rush to the airport to head back to New York. He’d written how much he’d enjoyed my company, and had included his phone number, asking me to call him as he’d like to keep in touch, and that we could swap clothes when we next saw each other, as he still had my dress. ‘I mean, he’s the best man. Who runs out on a best friend’s wedding?’
‘It must be life or death stuff,’ Georgie suggested.
‘He designs video games, hardly the same as being needed to carry out major heart surgery,’ I huffed.
‘Don’t take it personally. He made the effort to write a letter before he left,’ she reminded me, shoving the letter back in the envelope and offering it to me. I shook my head.
‘Bin it.’
‘What?’
‘Bin it. What’s the point of me having his number? He lives over there, I live here. He’s hot, I’m not. So we had a moment, but he’s going to forget all about the clumsy, wet, tie-dyed girl when he’s settled back into his life over there.’
‘Abbie, you really like him and from what I saw, he really likes you, and stop with the Abbie
bashing. You’re beautiful. Ok, granted, you may not end up walking down the aisle with him, but don’t stop something before it’s even had a chance to begin. I’ve not seen you this interested in a guy before. At least communicate with him, see what he wants.’
‘Sweetie, I can’t make a relationship with Mr. Sumo work, and we’ve lived together for seven years. I’ve got no chance with a hot American. So I liked him, I felt a spark, but it was what it was. A fleeting moment. There must be loads of local guys I could spark with, I just have to get out there and start looking again. Now drink your drink and let’s go dance. I need a bit of fun after the disaster of today,’ I stated firmly, not entirely convinced I meant it.
‘Abbie,’ she pleaded, waving the envelope at me. I pulled it out of her hand and slid it across the bar towards the guy that had given it to me.
‘Can you bin this for me please?’ I asked, and he nodded and took it off me. I grabbed Georgie’s hand, blanking out her protests, and dragged her away towards the dance floor before I had a chance to change my mind.
I had really liked him. How many times did you feel a pull to someone so strongly within seconds of meeting them? Not often in my case. But even if there wasn’t the Atlantic between us, he was out of my league. And I’d heard what the girls had said earlier. He was single for a reason. He was a serial dater and he wasn’t the settling-down type. I was living in fantasyland, and as an accountant, I should know better.
Miller Davis plus Abbie Carter was one mathematical equation that would never work out.
Chapter Three
The Bush Trimmer
August
‘OK, OK, I’M COMING,’ I yelled, trying to rake my fingers through my bed-matted hair while I jogged down the stairs, quickly doing up the buttons on the pyjamas I’d just grabbed from my chest of drawers. It had been two weeks since my Miller encounter and Georgie had come over to help me drown my sorrows in my subsequent slump. I was seriously regretting having thrown away his number now. I couldn’t stop thinking about him. I knew that I could always ring Rachel to ask for it, but so could he if he wanted to get mine, and he hadn’t. I was kind of old-fashioned, I liked a guy to do the chasing. Again, in his case. I didn’t want to come across as some desperate, panting groupie, which of course I was. Then there was the whole he-didn’t-do-relationships thing, against my not-looking-for-a-fling thing, not to mention the whole ocean thing. There were too many “things” to even consider dating a man like him. I heard Sumo grumbling in the lounge, as annoyed as I was to be woken up at eight a.m. on a Saturday. Who the hell was it?
I paused with my fingers wrapped around the door handle, my heart suddenly racing. What if it was him? He could have flown all the way over an ocean, traversed the countryside lanes, dodging badgers and the odd stray sheep that wandered into the road, to come and claim me in some kind of romantic-comedy movie moment. My fingers were shaking as I unlocked the top half of the door and threw it open, sighing heavily to find a complete stranger staring back at me.
‘Good morning. Abbie Carter?’ came the deep male voice with a noticeable Welsh twang to it.
‘Yes?’
‘I’ve come to trim your bush.’
‘I’m sorry, I’m half-asleep. Did you say you’ve come to trim my … bush?’ I was having a déjà vu of the conversation, but not of the admittedly cute, strapping guy standing in front of me. He was dressed in a pair of honey-coloured Timberland boots, black combats, and a khaki Henley shirt, which was rolled up to his elbows, exposing some tanned, strong-looking forearms. Nice!
‘Sorry, I’m an early riser, I like to get as much done as possible before it gets too hot in the afternoon. David, your neighbour, said it’s got out of hand, and you might need some other jobs doing?’
‘Oh, you’re the bush trimmer, sorry, gardener.’
‘Heath Jones, nice to meet you,’ he replied, extending his hand.
‘Abbie Carter, obviously,’ I replied, giving it a shake. Wow, he had a firm grip. And unlike the businessmen I usually shook hands with, his hands were rough and slightly calloused. ‘So, Heath Jones, how much do you charge for bush trimming, sorry, sorry, gardening?’
‘Twelve pounds an hour, but I don’t just do bushes.’ He gave me a lopsided grin, showing a set of nice, even teeth and a solitary dimple. Was he flirting with me?
‘Tell me more,’ I smiled, folding my arms across my chest. I was suddenly acutely aware that I was standing in front of a very cute guy wearing just my emergency hot pink pyjamas with a huge Hello Kitty face on my chest and a small white one on my backside.
‘I’m a jack-of-all-trades, really. Landscaping, plumbing, odd jobs around the house like painting, putting up shelves, and assembling furniture. I’m a trained carpenter too. I made the tree house in the Weathers’ garden for their grandchildren, and those custom-made struts to hold up the branches of my uncle’s plum tree, which were hanging too low with the heavy load.’
‘Oh,’ I nodded, having a light bulb moment. ‘Those are the plums that gave Daphne the black eye. Got to say that’s a relief.’ Well, this Heath was cute, and now that I knew he wasn’t a bisexual, old-aged-pensioner romancer, his stock was rising rapidly. He gave me a puzzled look and went to say something, then changed his mind. ‘Ok, Heath, I obviously need the holly bush doing, the hedge trimming, and some general tidying up in the back garden. But I have some jobs around the house that need doing too.’
‘What kind?’ he asked, folding his strong arms across a very broad chest as he angled his head.
‘Well, I have a slight leak under the kitchen sink, the front door sticks and squeaks, I’ve had a shelf unit to put up in my bedroom forever, and the house, as well as the windows and doors, are overdue painting. Then my chimney in the lounge needs sweeping.’
‘Ok well, I can do the bush and hedge today, and the odd jobs in the house. I’d have to come back to do the back garden another day, if it’s as large as next door’s. The house painting I’d have to schedule in, but obviously it will depend on the weather, and I can give you a number for the chimney sweep, as that’s not something I do.’ He smiled again, some fine creases appearing around a pair of bright emerald eyes, and ran a hand through his short, very dark brown hair. I needed to upgrade him from cute to very cute.
‘Great. Well, give me a minute to get out of these pyjamas and I can show you how I want my bush done. I kind of like a shape to it, you know? It makes it look more pretty,’ I told him. He chuckled and put a hand up to his mouth as he tried to keep in his laughter, while I felt my cheeks flush when I realised how that must have sounded.
‘I’ll go and get my tools out of my van,’ he nodded, his eyes still sparkling with amusement. ‘Nice pussy, by the way,’ he added. I gasped, and he dropped his hand as he flicked his chin at me. ‘On your chest. My niece loves Hello Kitty.’
‘They’re emergency pyjamas only, I’m not some kind of woman who thinks she’s still a teenager,’ I advised him in a rush. ‘Trust me, I’m all woman. I happen to sleep naked and when you knocked on the door, I grabbed these to put on. And now I’m telling you totally inappropriate things. I’m going to shut the door and go and get changed and come back when I’m more respectable.’ My cheeks burning, I didn’t give him a chance to respond and quickly pushed the top half of the stable door, ramming it a couple of times to get it to shut, then locked it. ‘Idiot, Abbie,’ I muttered to myself as I took the stairs two at a time.
‘Seriously, Sumo,’ I griped as he waddled out of the kitchen, leaving the utility room in carnage. His breakfast bowl was upside down, there were drops of stray gravy on the floor where it had dripped off his head, and he’d managed to put his foot in his water bowl in his enthusiasm to chow down his food, leaving a puddle of water everywhere. Not to mention the wet paw prints he was leaving as he headed back for his après-breakfast snooze. I grabbed him first, much to his bemusement, and dried his paws with an old towel. I then tried to hold him still, struggling to keep my grip while he wriggled to esca
pe, as I attempted to wipe the gravy out of the deep, hairy creases in his forehead. ‘I’m feeling very under-appreciated as a mother right now, you know.’
His dark, moist eyes just held my gaze, as his pink tongue hung from the side of his mouth while he panted. I was going to have to ask Georgie if she offered teeth cleaning as part of her services, as he was in desperate need of some breath freshening.
‘Go on then, go sleep while I clean up your mess, then after lunch we’ll go for a walk, ok?’
He gave me a grunt of disapproval, then wheezed as he trundled away towards the lounge, his chubby bottom swaying like he was doing the samba. After cleaning up the kitchen, I put the kettle on. I needed more coffee and a bacon sandwich to soak up some of last night’s alcohol. I leaned over the sink to look out of the kitchen window and saw Heath bending over as he finished shaping the bottom of my holly bush. How had I not seen him in the village before? Especially if he did the gardening next door. I mean, Miller’s bottom would have taken gold medal in the sexy arse Olympics, but Heath’s definitely ranked of all of the male bottoms I’d ogled. Which I did more times than was probably healthy. I’d say a definite bronze medal. He didn’t have quite as much curve as my former gold medallist, Alec Wright, who’d now slipped to silver medal position.
I sighed as I thought of Alec. I’d admired him from afar for years when I’d been in young farmers’, but he was five years older than me and had gone away to university, then moved to London, and finally relocated to New York by the time I came of dating age. He’d settled back near Dilbury and I still saw him now and then, usually on a Thursday night in The Cock & Bull, but he only had eyes for his great love. It was high time I found my own. I opened the kitchen window.
‘Want a cup of tea?’ I called. Heath straightened up and turned to look for me, smiling when he saw me framed by the window.
Never the Bride (Dilbury Village #1) Page 5