From Paris With Love This Christmas. Jules Wake
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