by Jules Wake
‘Yes.’ She shrugged her wide but fine boned shoulders. ‘I bet you used the same key as last night when you let me in.’
‘And how did I get that key?’
Her mouth shut with a tight snap. The silence yawned between them and he left it hanging there, stringing out her uncertainty.
Her mouth firmed in a mutinous line and her eyes narrowed.
His mouth quirked as he imagined the Sergio Leone music from A Fistful of Dollars and a standoff between two cowboys.
She tossed her head. ‘I don’t know but I’d like you to leave.’
‘For the record, sweet cheeks, I live here. And newsflash, I’m having a shower right now.’ He turned his back on her, switched the shower on and pulled his boxers down.
With a startled gasp, she fled from the bathroom and he heard her bedroom door slam.
Jason stomped down the stairs ready to strangle someone. Preferably Siena with one ‘n’. No judge in the land would see him go down. The spoilt brat had used every last drop of hot water. He felt chilled to the bone and three seconds of lukewarm water had almost finished him off. She was still hiding in her room and just as bloody well. Hopefully she was packing her bags, although she could organise a taxi herself to the airport this time.
He stormed over to the fridge about to yank open the door, when he did a double take. Surely not. A plastic container sat on the side by the microwave, ringed with what looked suspiciously like the remnants of a shepherd’s pie. His stomach rolled, the familiar twinge of acid burning. Bugger, he needed a proper meal. Slowly he opened the fridge door. ‘I don’t bloody believe it,’ he yelled and slammed the door shut. Trust fund Barbie had helped herself to his dinner and to add insult to injury had left the plate, cutlery and packaging on the worktop.
Scrap all previous thoughts, he’d happily drive her to the airport, with her fancy pants designer wheelie bag and stuff her and it on the first plane back to Paris. What time was she leaving?
Was it really only this time yesterday, he’d got Laurie’s panicked call? How could he refuse to dash up to Heathrow to pick up her sister, who’d apparently decided upon an impromptu visit? Personally he thought an impromptu visit was bullshit for self-centred and thoughtless visit but hey, what did he know. Laurie sounded thrilled about it, if a little sad that she couldn’t get away. Of course she couldn’t get away, not with a houseful of builders ripping the place apart, Cam away and now poor Norah rushed into hospital. He’d only met the rather elderly Norah and her husband Eric once but if she’d been hospitalised it had to be serious as she was one tough old bird.
He opened the fridge again and grabbed a beer and stared desolately at the empty shelves. After a knackering day working, he did not want to go to the supermarket but it was preferable to another ulcer. With reluctance he put the beer back. Best not down that on his tender empty stomach and then drive. He needed his driving licence. Grabbing his jacket, he tucked his wallet into his pocket and walked into the hall, as Siena came down the stairs.
‘I’ve got a bone to pick with you.’
‘What?’
‘You ate my dinner.’
‘How was I supposed to know it was yours? I thought it had been left by the housekeeper for me.’
He raised one eyebrow in silent sarcasm.
‘Look, there was no one here. I didn’t know you lived here, did I? I thought you were a taxi driver and you didn’t say anything about it last night.’
OK, he now felt slightly bad because he hadn’t done much to disabuse her of that thought.
‘That’s because I thought you would have gone by the time I got back tonight.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘I can see.’ This was becoming slightly farcical and mad as he was about having a cold shower and no supper, his childishness was starting to prick his conscience. This was Laurie’s sister and he owed Laurie big time. She’d helped him out when he was starting up the business. He softened his voice and asked more gently, ‘So what time are you leaving? Do you need me to help organise a taxi to get you to the airport?’
‘That’s OK. I don’t need a taxi.’
‘Right,’ he smiled. ‘Train? You haven’t got a lot of luggage so crossing London shouldn’t be too bad. I can give you a lift to the station in the morning if you like.’ He shrugged into his jacket.
In a gesture that was fast becoming familiar, she lifted her chin. Warrior Princess Barbie. ‘I’m staying for a while.’
His head shot up. That was not part of the plan. He liked living alone. Not being responsible for anyone but himself. It had taken a long time to get here, confident that his mother and sisters were financially secure. As for his ex-girlfriend Stacey, the guilt about her still burned a hole in his stomach.
‘A while? I don’t think so.’
A mutinous line flattened out her mouth. ‘It’s not your house.’
‘But you can’t stay here.’
Up went the chin again. ‘Laurie said I could.’
Jason almost growled. ‘When did she say that?’ It was news to him.
‘It doesn’t matter when she said it, I have a room here.’
‘Yes … but—’
‘I’ll stay out of your way.’
Yeah, right.
‘So how long’s a while? Long weekend?’
She shrugged and he caught her swallow. Not as sure of herself as he’d first thought. ‘What about work?’ Wouldn’t it be nice to just take off for a few days? ‘Won’t they be expecting you?’
She shook her head, amusement lighting up her face. ‘I don’t work.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’ he muttered. In spite of himself he had to ask. ‘So what do you do all day if you don’t work?’
She drew herself taller. ‘I do loads of stuff. Go to fashion shows. Meet my friends. Go out to the theatre, exhibitions, shopping. We go to parties. Ski. I’m really busy. All the time.’
‘Nice life if you can get it,’ he observed dryly. ‘Not so much of that going on in Leighton Buzzard, I’m afraid.’ Which guaranteed she’d be bored and on a plane home within the next twenty-four hours.
She gave him a dazzling beam which almost knocked him for six. Christ, she might be bloody annoying but she was one hell of a babe.
‘Thanks Jason. You won’t know I’m here. I promise.’
He had a feeling, he might.
Taking her to the supermarket had seemed a brilliant idea. Ensure she bought her own meal for the night and stop her nicking his. What he hadn’t counted on was how long it took her.
As he stacked a six-pack of Becks in his basket, he looked around. Where had she got to? He was about done. Siena obviously went in for more complicated stuff. He’d left her for dust on the first aisle when she started feeling up peppers. Seriously? He wasn’t a complete philistine, he got the concept of five a day but did you need to check them out so carefully? This was supposed to be a smash and grab raid. Pizza. Beer. Pizza. More beer and a couple of ready-made shepherd’s pies and spag bols. And a shaving gel and deodorant periodically.
Turning back and re-tracing his route, he spotted her at the far end of the aisle in front of the refrigerated cheese cabinet. Her sodding basket empty. She stood there, looking too cute for her own good, attracting some excited second glances from two young guys who had suddenly developed a strong interest in the yoghurt section next to her.
Completely oblivious, Siena picked up different cheeses and read the labels, her head tilted to one side like an enquiring sparrow.
For crying out loud, why hadn’t it occurred to him? She probably couldn’t cook. Wouldn’t have a clue. This had been a complete waste of time. He strode down glaring at the two guys who suddenly decided that maybe yoghurt wasn’t their thing after all.
‘What are you doing?’ He shook his head. ‘Come here,’ he grabbed her elbow and firmly escorted her round the corner into the ready meals section. ‘Do you like pasta?’
‘Wow.’ She turned to him, her eyes wide. She loo
ked like fricking Alice in Wonderland. ‘Look at all this.’ Shaking him off, she wandered along the aisle inspecting the packaging. ‘Four cheese sauce? Cannelloni? Barbecue pork noodles? Beef rib in ale?’ She turned to him, eyes alight with enthusiasm. ‘They’ve got everything. It’s amazing. I didn’t know you could buy it all ready-made like this.’
Jason bit back a retort. Probably never been in a supermarket before in her life.
‘Yeah, who knew?’
‘Gosh, I’ve never seen this before.’ She reached out her hand and picked up a plastic container of bolognese sauce.
He realised that her wonder had turned to amusement. ‘Doesn’t anyone in England know how to cook?’ She raised one eyebrow with a demure smile.
Typical Frog. Always thought they owned cooking. Hadn’t she heard of Jamie Oliver or Gordon Ramsay?
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought her saw her mouth twitch. Was she having a laugh? She certainly looked amused but he wasn’t, far from it.
‘Plenty of people cook, but they might not have time, when they’re working.’ He said it with the emphasis on working. ‘Princess, I am starving. You ate my tea, remember? I want to go home and eat. Right now, I don’t care whether you live on bread and cheese or rice pudding but pick something to eat. I’m leaving.’
OK, so now he was being a complete bastard, but he was bloody starving and absolutely knackered having had less than five hours sleep in the last twenty-four. He was running on empty, and still had this bloody wine bar opening thing to go to, while madam looked as cool as a cucumber and was quite probably laughing at him. It pushed too many buttons. ‘I suggest you get your sweet little arse into gear and get a move on, otherwise I’ll leave you here.’
With a cheeky smile, she looked over her shoulder down at her backside. ‘Do you think so? Thanks.’
He gritted his teeth. Giving into the overwhelming sense of sheer exasperation he made a deep guttural noise in his throat at her and stomped off, the basket swinging painfully into his shins.
‘I growled at her. Physically growled.’ He rested his forehead on the edge of the kitchen table. What the hell had got into him? He prided himself on a bit of sophistication, even if he was now, to all intents and purposes, a manual labourer.
‘And then I felt guilty. So when she asked what I was doing this evening …’
Ben sniggered, snorting out some of the lager he’d swigged from the bottle. ‘Seriously. You growled. At a chick?’
They were sitting in the kitchen waiting for Siena to come down. He knew as soon as he’d uttered the words, ‘You’re welcome to come too,’ which he hadn’t meant at all, that he’d strayed into foolish, downright stupid territory. That’s what lack of sleep and lack of food did to your brain. And now they were still waiting for her to emerge from her room. Yup he really, really regretted opening his mouth.
‘Chick? Her? She’s Barbie to the power of ten. Seriously. It’s like she’s been beamed down from planet airhead.’
‘So how long’s she staying with you?’
‘She’s not staying with me. She came to see her sister. She’s leaving tomorrow. It won’t take long for her to realise Leighton Buzzard can’t match the entertainment of Paris.’
Tonight’s wine bar opening was possibly the most exciting thing that had happened this year. He realised he was pulling faces.
‘Really got under your skin, this one,’ observed Ben.
‘No. She’s just very …’ Jason motioned wringing her neck with his fingers, ‘irritating.’
‘Like that Shakespeare bloke said, you complain too much.’
Jason cocked a very surprised eyebrow. Ben was a great lad and his talents in fixing mechanical faults on the bottling line and washing out pipes couldn’t be faulted but it took all of his literacy skills to manage to read The Sun as far as page three. Quoting the bard seemed rather out of character.
‘The original quote was protest—’
‘Perzactly. You’re protesting, so it means you fancy her really.’
‘How do you figure that?’
‘Mate, you haven’t stopped talking about her since I got here. You don’t even talk about Claire this much and you’re shagging her.’
Jason wasn’t about to correct Ben’s blithe assumptions. He knew he was sleepwalking into a relationship and he ought to nip things in the bud but at least Claire was relatively low maintenance and had her own place. Unfortunately, she seemed very good at engineering things so that from the outside it appeared as if there was more going on than there was. So far it was OK but at some point he was going to have make it clear he wasn’t interested in a long-term relationship.
He wanted a nice easy life. Work, come home, eat, go to the pub. Watch a bit of football at the weekend. And that was the way it was going to stay. He was not going to worry about anyone else’s problems. Siena was Laurie’s problem. Not his. His phone buzzed. A text from Claire. Where are you? We’re here.
Ben’s phone buzzed almost a second later.
‘Mate, she’d better get a move on. There’s free food there. I don’t want to miss out.’
‘I thought you’d eaten. Scrub that.’ Stupid observation. Ben could eat his body weight in carbs and still go back for seconds. Lean and muscled, which came in handy, he used up a lot of energy, with his regular rugby training and playing for the local team every weekend.
‘At la—’ the words died in his throat and he heard Ben mutter, ‘Holy fuck.’
Siena appeared in the doorway, rippling blonde hair, ten foot long sooty lashes, skin tight jeans which accentuated every inch of her legs that seemed to go on forever and a top that, while it wasn’t particularly low cut, certainly made sure you couldn’t miss how perfect her boobs were. Which he knew were perfect because he’d seen them for real, not so very long ago. For a minute he thought he’d swallowed his tongue. Jeez she packed a powerful punch, as did the perfume that filled the air around her. His groin threatened to give him away.
On high, high heels, which added a sashay to her walk, she came into the kitchen, a wide smile showing off perfect, Daz-white teeth that any American cheerleader would be proud to own.
Ben had clearly died and gone to heaven and he hadn’t even seen her naked. There was absolutely nothing subtle about the unabashed admiration shining in his eyes.
‘Siena, this is Ben. He’s an idiot. He works with me.’ Jason gave him a sharp jab in the ribs.
Ignoring him completely, she stepped forward and with what he felt was unconscious charm, politely held out a petite hand, tipped in some dark purpley colour.
‘Hi Ben.’ She smiled up at him and he smiled goofily back.
‘Hi Siena.’ His meaty fingers dwarfed her hand as he shook enthusiastically for at least ten seconds too long. ‘Nice to meet you.’
‘And you. What do you with Jason? He hasn’t told me much.’
She shot him an amused look. In the face of her flawless manners, he felt like some uncouth lout.
‘We make beer.’ Ben seemed totally hypnotised like some dopey cartoon character. Man, it was pitiful.
‘Brew beer,’ snapped Jason and then regretted it. Ben might not be the sharpest tool in the box but he was a damn good worker, kind-hearted and mostly harmless. Certainly not someone you’d want getting caught up with the likes of Siena. ‘Right. Shall we go?’
They trooped out of the kitchen, Siena in the lead.
‘Put your tongue away.’ Jason muttered into Ben’s ear. The stupid boy turned around and grinned. Jason shook his head. Oh God, she would chew him up and spit him out as a slight aperitif. Ben was a good-looking lad, and as a local rugby hero had plenty of fans of his own, but he was not rich enough for Siena’s blood. Any man she went out with would have to have a billionaire bank balance; Ben definitely didn’t fall into that category. Neither did Jason, thankfully. But he didn’t want her deciding to amuse herself with someone during her brief stay.
Siena would rather have died than admit to anyone how long it
had taken her to step out of the bedroom and go downstairs. When she’d heard the two deep voices downstairs, her nerve had almost failed her. She found Jason’s grumpy disapproval disconcerting. It seemed as if everything she did annoyed him and she had no idea why.
At home she knew everyone, knew what to expect. For the first time in her life she felt horribly out of depth. What if Jason’s friends didn’t like her either? What if they were all like him? She’d only said yes to his invitation to the wine bar because she’d been a bit bored today. At home, she could always go down to the kitchens and chat to Agnes or the other members of staff.
Now as they walked into the wine bar, she could let some of the tension go. What a relief that Ben had been so sweet. At least she could talk to him all night, and this bar was lovely. You could almost imagine you were in London or Paris. She didn’t like to admit it but what she’d seen of the town so far hadn’t lived up to what she’d imagined. Luckily this place was more what she was used to. The décor reminded her of a place in Monaco, although without the presence of Johnny Depp or Cameron Diaz.
‘Jay, over here.’
A tall blond guy with a scrubby ponytail hailed them from the bar and Jason led the way over to a fabulous Perspex bar which sparkled with embedded crystals. Fascinated, Siena reached out to touch it, probably Swarovski.
‘Isn’t it gorge?’ The petite girl who had bounded over to give Ben a big hug and greet Jason with a brief kiss on the cheek, all the while managing to studiously ignore the blond man, grinned at Siena.
‘It’s amazing,’ agreed Siena.
‘The whole place is amazing. Not very Leighton at all. I love it.’
‘Pretentious if you ask me,’ said the blond guy, narrowing his eyes as he looked at the other girl.
No tension there then, thought Siena watching the body language between the two of them.
Around her the group exchanged hellos, hugs and kisses until Ben came to her rescue.
‘Guys, this is Siena.’ Ben put his arm round her and pushed her forward into the group moving away from the bar as he made the announcement. Siena almost giggled, he made it sound as if he’d made some huge discovery. Then as all eyes turned his way, he flushed pink and rattled off a series of names with the speed of a machine gun. ‘Lisa. Claire. Will. Katie. Tom.’