Hard To Regret: Scarlet Bay Book 1

by Kris Pearson

  “Yep, there’s gloves, Boss,” Hoolie said, rummaging and handing some over. Jason tore the packet open with his teeth, and Anna had a sudden flash of him doing the same with condom packets the night before. She averted her eyes from his as she caught the gleam of his white teeth and half a grin. Surely he was remembering as well.

  “I don’t really think you need those,” she protested.

  His smirk faded. “Health and Safety,” he said as Eric jogged back and moved the bowl of water nearer to the first aid box. “Add some antiseptic, bro.”

  The impact driver continued to rattle above them, and when Anna glanced up in that direction Hoolie interpreted correctly and said, “He’s still got his ‘ears’ on.”

  Eric laughed. “Brett’s missed the excitement.”

  “I wish I’d missed it,” Anna said. “I notice no-one’s come down to apologise.”

  Jason scowled as he gently dabbed at her punctured legs. “They’ve got their own problems. I wouldn’t want to be them right now. Is this place insured?”

  When she raised an enquiring eyebrow, he said, “Someone’s got to pay to fix the damage so your family can live in it over the holidays.”

  “A lot of those planks have been smashed,” Eric added. “A heap of money gone west.”

  Jason’s scowl deepened. “Beautiful matai. Impossible to get now. I’d factored in the price of all the demo timber against my quote for rebuilding.”

  “So she knows?” Eric asked, looking keenly at Jason.

  Anna tried for an innocent expression but feared she’d soon be blushing. “Knows what?”

  Jason shook his head. “Just something else I was quoting on. Might come to nothing.”

  Eric continued to watch them both with shrewd eyes. “Yeah, she knows,” he said after a few seconds.

  CHAPTER 8 – AT WAR WITH TREV

  “Shut it, Eric!” Jason snapped, eyeing Hoolie, who was now aiming his phone to capture the damage.

  Anna supressed a smile. So Eric knew she knew, and he’d somehow sensed they were attracted to each other by lunchtime yesterday if his ‘big bad wolf’ and Red Riding Hood comments were anything to go by. They needed to hide things better if they wanted any peace and privacy.

  “Jason stayed behind for a while to help me dump some rubbish after you all knocked off,” she said. “I thought he didn’t want anyone to know about the quote yet, so…”

  Eric tapped his nose. “Lots of things Jason doesn’t want people to know about. He wouldn’t want you knowing he slept in the van outside here last night, for instance.”

  “Did he?” she asked, genuinely puzzled. She’d known exactly where he was for most of the night.

  “Found him curled up like a kitten when I arrived.”

  “What on earth for?” she asked, turning her gaze on Jason, who’d remained very quiet.

  He looked away. “Not the first time I’ve done it. Just keeping an eye on the site now things are nearly finished.” He rubbed a hand over his bristly chin. “Don’t want trouble like they’ve had at the other house.”

  Anna pointed a finger at him. “You actually slept in the van? But that must have been so uncomfortable?”

  “He got kicked out of the bed,” Eric said with a meaningful roll of his eyes.

  “No shit, Sherlock! Was I supposed to share the house with a total stranger?” She gave Eric an eye-roll in return, and he had the good grace to look away.

  Jason returned his gaze to her legs, pushed her short denim skirt higher, and dabbed at more of the blood. “No love lost between the two teams. Just playing it safe. Is that stinging too much?”

  Anna shook her head. “I’m tough. You wouldn’t believe what I can survive.” She had the distinct pleasure of seeing Jason’s lips curve. Then she added, “You don’t really think they’d damage your house?”

  “Nah. Probably not. But I know the old man’s got a lot riding on getting the second contract. We’d all like the big jobs instead of stuffing around with the small ones.” He cut his eyes sideways to the damaged cottage. “I’m taking no chances, and now this has happened he’ll be even madder.” He glanced up. “Uh-oh.”

  Anna did the same. As the engine of the truck roared again, a rangy man with an unkempt shock of silver-threaded hair appeared from behind it, bellowed something at the driver, and strode down the slope toward them. The resemblance between Jason and his father was uncanny in some ways. The same long, strong legs. The same loose-limbed way of moving. But as the older man came closer she saw deep grooves either side of his mouth and a network of red veins in the whites of his eyes.

  He thrust a hand toward her, totally ignoring his son. “Miss Wynn, a pleasure to meet you. Sorry to see you’ve had a little mishap.”

  “More than a fucking mishap!” Jason snarled as Anna’s innate courtesy made her reach out and take his father’s proffered hand. She received a crushing handshake as she sat there, trapped.

  “Yes, the boy should have shored the bank up so something like this couldn’t happen,” Trev Jones said, flicking his gaze up and down Anna’s legs in a way that made her wish her skirt was longer.

  Jason’s indrawn breath was audible, even over the noise from the nearby site. “Don’t give me that bullshit. You should have shored the bank up! It was your job to stabilise it.”

  “All in good time,” the older Jones protested. “No point spending money on retaining walls until we’re ready.”

  Anna watched Jason draw another furious breath and dived in before he could say anything else. “I’m sure it will be specified in the building consents,” she said. “They’re pretty rigorous these days.”

  “Got that all sorted, Dad?” Jason demanded. “You had the engineer’s designs drawn up and the permit issued? You altered the level of the land, so you retain it.”

  Trev Jones turned on his son, jaw tight. “I’m treating it all as one big project. The house above and this one below. Only sensible.”

  Anna saw Eric’s expression sharpen, his nose twitch, and then she smelled it too. The sickly-sweet smell of beer, way too far before midday.

  Jason squared his shoulders, the bit well and truly between his teeth now. “You’ve had the house contract confirmed, have you? You know for sure you’re doing the job?”

  Jones senior set his feet further apart and rocked back on his boot-heels. “Of course I’m bloody doing the job. Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “All signed up?” Jason needled.

  “As good as. I’ve done great work here.” He wagged his head toward the house he’d almost completed.

  Jason’s lip curled. “You’ve half demolished the place the family needs to live in for the next few weeks.”

  “Bullshit. They’re living in one of the new ones.”

  Anna watched with mounting distress as the acrimony accelerated between Jason and his father, and judged it time to dive in to try and smooth things out again. “Mum and Dad and some of the other oldies are holidaying in one of the new houses, but my sisters and cousins and I are having one final summer fling in the cottage.”

  Trev Jones raised his chin. Anna saw absolutely where Jason had inherited the mannerism from.

  “There you are, then,” he crowed. “No need to be careful of anything. Ideal.”

  What? Did he think they planned to wreck the place with drunken parties? “It won’t be treated like a pigsty, Mr Jones.” She glared up at him and saw the moment he realised he’d gone too far.

  “No, no, of course not, Miss Wynn,” he said, practically tugging his forelock. Anna felt a brief flare of satisfaction.

  Jason shook his head. “No-one’s living here until that side wall is made safe and weatherproof. And until the plumbing is checked out and the bathroom window replaced. And those kitchen cupboards are securely fixed on the wall again…”

  “There’s a bit of damage, sure, but it’s mid-summer. No-one’s going to freeze.”

  Jason set his feet apart in the same manner of his father. “And your insur
ance is going to cover it.”

  “Won’t be much money involved,” Jones senior grated.

  “What? You’re going to set one of your monkeys onto it and hope they do a good enough job while you skive off fishing? They’ll be down at the pub the minute you’re out of sight.”

  The truck engine roared again, accompanied by creaks and groans of timber. Anna presumed they were hauling the shed back up. The men all took a few hurried steps in that direction, while she sat stranded, peering sideways.

  Trevor Jones drove both his clenched fists deep into his shorts pockets, which looked to her as though he was resisting the temptation to swing a punch at his son. “They’ll do what’s needed,” he yelled over the noise.

  “No Dad. I’ll do what’s needed. I wouldn’t trust Bazza or Stevo as far as I could throw them.”

  Jones senior shook his head, lips pressed tightly together. “Then that’s your funeral, boy. Don’t expect me to pay you.”

  Jason, hands on his hips, snapped, “I haven’t expected you to do anything for me in a long time.”

  The noise of the engine ebbed away for a few seconds.

  Eric laid a hand on Jason’s arm. “Easy Jase,” he said. “Don’t make it personal.”

  Jason swore, and shook his head. “It’s always been personal. Why would it change now?” He turned his back on his father and returned to Anna, dabbing at her legs again while the retrieval attempt continued. “You okay, Frosty? Not hurting too badly?”

  Trev Jones stood watching them, obviously still fuming; then he wheeled about and stomped back to the house he’d built as the noise ramped up again.

  “You’ve made things worse with your dad,” she said.

  Jason sighed. “Couldn’t get any worse. You’d agree with me on that, Eric?”

  “Been pretty bad,” Eric said as he joined them. “The old stag and the young buck locking antlers. Got to expect it, I suppose.”

  Anna thought of her own family’s situation, and the carefully mapped out successions between fathers and sons, or indeed daughters. Her cousins Aaron and Bree would soon become partners in Uncle Harry’s thriving and long established legal practice. Already Ollie had his little plane and would probably follow Uncle James into aviation once he’d completed his degree. The Wynns planned and prospered. Plainly the Jones clan didn’t work that way. Her heart constricted, knowing how hard Jason must have had to work to survive and succeed.

  He reached for the tube of antiseptic ointment Eric had located in the first aid box. “Should I put some of this on?”

  She shook her head, still thinking about the situation between Jason and his father. And his father’s obvious drinking problem. “No. The antiseptic in the water should do the job. There’s nothing deep. How’s your hand today?”

  “Doesn’t appear to be holding me back.” He sent her a conspiratorial grin. “In fact late last night I entirely forgot it.”

  Last night… Anna hoped nosy Eric didn’t put two and two together again, but at that moment Hoolie loped up, brandishing his phone and insisting she looked at his shots of the shed and the truck. Her stomach jolted, knowing that another ten feet to the left would have meant it smashing into the kitchen where she’d been standing buttering her toast.

  “Good thing you weren’t in the shower any more, eh Anna?” he said with obvious glee. “Or you’da had to run out with no clothes on.”

  She snorted at the chances of that happening. “I’d have spoiled your party by grabbing a bath towel on the way.”

  “And got your feet cut to ribbons,” Jason added, stepping aside so she was no longer in his shadow. “Sit for a while and let the sun dry you off. You’re looking better than I expected.”

  Eric tossed the remains of the water into the hedge. “Safe to check out the inside of the house now?”

  Jason nodded gloomily. “Better see what damage it’s done. If the pipes are stuffed that’d be a bummer, and it sounds like they are.”

  Anna watched them walk into the house together. Jason so tall, body as hard and lean as a top-class athlete’s, and Eric, a short pudgy barrel of muscle. Hoolie ambled after them, head bobbing to music she couldn’t hear.

  She tipped her face back and closed her eyes, enjoying the warmth, hoping she’d put enough sunscreen on, and determined to sweep up the sea of broken china before enjoying her intended laze on the beach.

  She jerked out of her reverie when she heard Jason saying, “Not a hope in hell you can stay here tonight, Frosty. There’s a gaping hole in the wall - which we can shore up for you on a temporary basis. It’ll be enough to keep the place secure, but the water supply’s shot.”

  “I turned it off to stop the rest of the place being flooded,” Eric added.

  Anna squinted against the sun. “So what happens now? Do I have to leave? How long for?”

  “Be a major miracle if I could find a plumber willing to turn up this afternoon,” Jason said. “But I can swing someone for tomorrow.”

  Eric lifted the lid of the chilly-bin in the shady porch, pulled some bottles of water from a bed of rattling ice-cubes, and passed them around. “That’s when Devon’s back?”

  Hoolie removed his earbuds. “We could carry one of the beds from here up to the new house for her.”

  “Nice thought, but no toilets, Hools.” Jason said. “Those fancy French jobs don’t go in until tomorrow. Devon’s booked to do them in the morning.” He turned to Anna. “I could get him onto fixing this instead?”

  She pushed herself up from the chair. “There’s no furniture due until next week, so that’d be fine. But in the meantime, what about me?”

  “You could stay at mine for the night,” he said, sending her a hint of a wink. “I have a spare bedroom. I’ll even feed you. I’ve got some of my music mates coming over. You might enjoy it.”

  Was it really going to be that easy to spend another night with him? She bit the inside of her cheek to squash a smile. “Or I could see if the campground has a spare cabin?”

  “With the surf carnival on?” Eric scoffed - not that Anna had ever been serious. “Go and see the boss’s birds. He’s a man of hidden talents.”

  “Is he indeed?” she said. “Do you keep canaries or something?”

  “Or something,” Jason agreed, one corner of his mouth twitching as he tried not to smirk.

  “And he sings not bad,” Hoolie added. “Not being a bro.” He ducked sideways, laughing at his own temerity.

  Jason aimed a mock punch at him. “Fuckit,oolsH Hools, that’s racist. No Christmas bonus for you.”

  Anna grinned at their easy banter. “So hopefully only one night?” she suggested. “Is there a decent broom up at the new house? The ancient one here won’t be much use for sweeping up all those broken plates.”

  “I’ll get it,” Hoolie said, pushing his earbuds in and bounding away.

  *

  Jason swallowed the last of his water and fired the empty plastic bottle into the recycling bin in the old porch. Just when things had been going well, this had to happen. At least he now had a cast-iron excuse for Anna to stay the night, and no need to try and hide that fact from bloodhound Eric, because Eric had eyes like lasers and sniffed out secrets faster than anyone he knew.

  She joined him at the back door and surveyed the chaos.

  “Do you want a hand with the sweeping?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “No thanks. I’ll have to sort out anything unbroken and see if we have enough left for the holiday. Buy some more cheap plates and mugs if we don’t. God, what a mess!”

  His gaze slid the length of her slim body. Five-six to his six-four. It was a miracle she hadn’t been horribly hurt. Already she was precious to him, and he hadn’t wanted that. He’d planned on some quick fun if he was lucky, and then a breezy goodbye. A fling with a rich girl who fancied a brief trip to the wrong side of the tracks. Instead, he’d plummeted into lust so deep he was drowning. And uncomfortably more than lust.

  Right now he longed to touc
h her. To clasp her hand. Or run his fingers through her long streaky hair and down onto the pale golden skin below the sleeve of her pink polo shirt. He ached to tilt her face up and take her soft lips in a possessive kiss.

  Hell - strip her naked and bury himself deep into her heat.

  Five crucial minutes might have made the difference between her living and dying.

  He needed to find a way to stop her seeing the horrendous damage in the bathroom -the upended shower cubicle, the smashed and buckled window, the splintered timber. If she’d still been there when it happened…

  “I’ll check what we’ve got to patch that wall with,” Eric said, breaking into his sombre thoughts and leaving for the new house.

  He finally gave in to the temptation to run his hand down Anna’s warm arm, which reminded him of long legs, soft breasts, all the sensations from the night before. “You’ll need some decent shoes before you tackle the kitchen. Keep away for a minute and let me grab them for you.”

  She turned to him with a slight smile. “You’re always looking after people, aren’t you? Giving me a ride back from the store. Giving Hoolie a job to please his uncle. Making Eddie that seat on the beach. Patching up my legs. Offering to get my shoes. Who looks after you in return? Not your dad…”

  He slid his hand down to her wrist, circling it easily with his thumb and middle finger, and his jaw clenched. It took quite an effort to relax it again so he could say, “I look after me.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “The cat who walks by himself?”

  “It suits me. And when it doesn’t, I have friends. You’ll meet some tonight.” He released her wrist and said, “Wait here,” before he strode down the hallway to her bedroom.

  Maybe the cat had had enough of walking by itself, he thought morosely? Could that happen so fast? Could one night really turn his life on its head? And if that was true, what would a second night bring?