From Paris With Love This Christmas. Jules Wake
around her head. He’d kill her. Swear to God, he would.
Still dripping, he grabbed the hand towel, which was about as much use as a hanky. Sourly he rubbed a section of the mirror clear of condensation which promptly fogged over again. She couldn’t even open the damn window to get rid of the steam. His knee throbbed and he managed to nick himself shaving. Not even eight o’clock and this day was turning out shite.
‘Would you like some coffee? The real deal?’ Siena beamed at him and sipped at her mug with a beatific expression on her face as he stomped into the kitchen.
Unfortunately the rich smell of real coffee addled his brain and when he would have asked her what the hell was going on, all he could do was nod.
And bloody hell it was good coffee. Seriously good.
‘Not a morning person, are you?’
Clutching the coffee to his chest in case she turned nasty and took it away again, he glared at her.
‘You’ll find most men aren’t when the morning routine they’ve enjoyed uninterrupted for the last six months is hijacked by someone who doesn’t understand the concept that there are only sixty seconds in a minute and not three hours, and they’ve been left without a towel.’
‘I wasn’t that long. You’re exaggerating.’
‘I needed a pee.’ How did she manage to make him feel slightly inadequate?
‘Seriously?’ She looked incredulous.
‘Siena, may I remind you, there’s only one loo in this house. I’m sure you’re used to an en-suite for every day of the week but if you could remember that we need to share facilities and what’s this about a job interview?’
‘For a job.’
‘I get the concept of a job interview. What I don’t get is why you would want one.’
‘Gosh, is that the time?’ Siena darted around the table.
He blocked her exit, feeling a faint sense of unease when she tensed and a flash of something flitted across her face. ‘Not so fast. Job?’
‘Yes, I rang them on Saturday. In fact today’s more of a training day than an interview.’
Jason closed his eyes. Proper jobs did not fall out of the trees. What the hell had she signed up for?
‘A training day?’ He tried to sound interested. ‘Training to do what?’
‘I’ll be representing the company. Telling people about their home improvement products.’ She trotted out the phrases parrot fashion. ‘How they can make their houses look better. Offering them discounts. Today I’ll be learning about drawing up quotes. You never know, I might suggest they do this place.’
Jason pinched his lips together and stared hard at the wood grain of the kitchen table, fighting the snigger. It wasn’t for him to burst her bubble.
‘So you get paid for this job?’ he asked, the strain of not laughing showing in his voice.
‘Of course I do, silly. I wouldn’t be doing it otherwise. It’s commission based, twelve per cent on your first fifty thousand then fifteen per cent on your second. There’s the potential to earn up to one hundred thousand in your first year.’
‘What happened to the trust fund? Hang on.’ He shook his head as if trying to clear it. Once again she’d managed to distract him from his initial chain of thought. ‘More importantly. Why? Why have you got a job? Here?’
Siena’s perpetual smile slipped momentarily.
‘I’ve decided to stay for a while. I’ve cleared it with Laurie. It’s my room. This was my dad’s house. I’ve got every right to stay here. Besides we can share bills.’ She spat the words out so quickly, it took a minute to catch up. Good coffee or not, his brain was still in wake up mode.
‘Run that by me again.’
He watched as she rearranged her face into a smiling utterly-reasonable-won’t-this-be-fun expression.
‘I spoke to Laurie. It is my house too, sort of, and the room is mine. So I’m going to stay a while. I’ll keep out of your way. You won’t even know I’m here.’
At that he raised a deliberately sceptical eyebrow.
‘And just think, we can share the bills. That will help won’t it?’
‘Share bills?’ He had a horrible feeling her hot water consumption alone would double the bills.
‘Yes. You told me how expensive they all were. I’ll be able to help. Great isn’t it?’ she said with the confident sunny smile he was rapidly realising was her default. The real world was a concept she had yet to grasp. Her world seemed to roll along on sunshine and roses. ‘I’m sure it’ll be nice for you to have a woman’s touch about the place.’
The coffee sliding down his throat at that moment almost went west and he choked back a cough.
‘Pardon?’
‘You know, a woman’s touch.’
He closed his eyes, counted to five. Surely no judge in the land would send him down for strangling her.
‘What, the woman’s touch that means I can’t even find my own shaving gel in the bathroom anymore?’
‘My, you are a grumpy Gus in the mornings aren’t you?’ She stuck her tongue out at him, with a cheeky grin. ‘See you later.’
As she walked off, leaving his scrambled brain still trying to work out how he now had a lodger, he realised his eyes were glued to her backside, perfectly outlined in some smooth fabric and not a panty line in sight.
‘You lucky sod.’ Ben stopped for a second, lowering the sack of barley to rest on his knee. ‘She’s staying.’ Then he pulled a face of horror. ‘Claire’s not going to like that.’
‘It’s nothing to do with Claire.’ He regretted that drunken kiss on Saturday. She seemed to be very good at seeking him out at the wrong or right time depending on which way you looked at it. He shouldn’t have but it had been a while and when an eager, pliant body was offering, it seemed easy to take what was on offer.
‘You’re doing that protesting thing again.’
‘So would you if you’d had a morning like I’ve had.’
‘Doesn’t sound so bad. She made you coffee.’
‘She also decimated my bathroom.’ He shuddered.
Ben shrugged. ‘So, no one died.’ There were occasions when Jason admired the younger man’s horizontal approach to life; this was not one of them. When Jason got stressed about fulfilling an order, that bacteria might have tainted a brew, or the gravity wasn’t right, Ben’s calm ‘there’s always tomorrow’ attitude was an asset.
‘But the mess …’
Ben shrugged his wide shoulders, lifting the sack of grain.
Will wasn’t much better. He laughed. ‘She’s what?’
‘Selling double glazing.’ Jason stared morosely down into his pint, when he took a break at lunchtime.
Will pushed a ciabatta BLT over the bar towards him.
‘What’s the problem? You said yourself she won’t last five minutes.’
Jason brightened. ‘Yeah that’s true. But why? A job suggests she’s staying long term.’
Will sobered for a minute. ‘Seriously mate, a) is she that bad? and b) like you said she’s so flighty, she could get back to Paris under her own steam. She’s not going to stick around here. Paris. Cannes. New York. Leighton Buzzard? She came to see her sister. Her sister’s not here. She’s not going stay. Doesn’t know anyone … apart from you … and I think you’ve