12 Days At Silver Bells House by Jennie Jones Page A

shoe and not admire her and them?
    He cleared his throat and told his mind to wander elsewhere. Like to the road ahead.
    Kate’s mobile rang. Jamie glanced over again when she pulled it from the pocket of her red denim hipster shorts. He caught a glimpse of the skin on her waist as her little white top rode up her midriff.
    Don’t look, he said to himself, as his gaze flicked over the length of her legs. Don’t look there, either.
    Suddenly, in eight short weeks he had a house and a guest who’d become his girlfriend. He’d shopped with care that morning and planned for meals. Next thing he knew, they’d be getting a cat.
    â€˜Hmmm,’ Kate voiced as she looked at the screen of her phone. She hit a button with her rosy-pink tipped finger, obviously not happy about the ID of the caller and slipped the phone back into her pocket.
    â€˜Business?’ he asked.
    â€˜Yup.’
    â€˜Still don’t want to take the calls?’
    â€˜Nope.’
    Jamie clamped his mouth together. But hell, Sammy’s voice rang in his head anyway. Try to get her to open up, Jamie . It would have been hard for, staying in the city at this time .
    â€˜So who are your calls from?’ he asked as he turned the ute into the No Through Road to his home.
    â€˜Fat Jacques,’ she said. ‘Fat in the greedy, covetous department, that is. Scumbag-style.’ She turned in her seat to face him. ‘Who in bejeesuz do some people think they are, Jamie?’
    â€˜That’s Irish,’ he reminded her. ‘So Fat Jacques is…?’ Her boss? Her boyfriend?
    â€˜Varmint.’
    His mouth curved in a smile. ‘Now you’re crossing continents. Varmint is southern USA. You mean vermin.’
    â€˜I mean rat.’
    Jamie took a breath, something inside his chest getting worried on her behalf. ‘Aren’t you concerned about losing your business, by not taking the calls?’
    â€˜Might have lost it anyway.’
    She spoke so quietly Jamie wasn’t sure if he was supposed to have heard. He didn’t question her further, but the scenario played on his mind all the way up his No Through Road driveway.
    ****
    She had the bunny pyjamas on. Jamie took his concentration off the short shorts and the nipped in jacket and back onto the summer lamb casserole he’d been preparing. ‘Dinner’ll be a couple of hours yet.’
    â€˜Don’t care. I need wine first, anyway. Ooh.’ She padded across the kitchen to the fridge, bare footed and looking as though she was walking on hot coals. Jamie gave the lamb casserole a last stir, and put the cast-iron dish into the heated range oven. He hadn’t expected Kate to be a dressing gown and pyjama-wearing woman. Not around him, anyway. He’d imagined his immaculate executive guest to remain clothed in her power-wear. The bunny PJs and silky robe were a surprise. As were the wellies and the ridiculous straw hat. Kate the enigma.
    â€˜Living in the country is agony,’ she said, lifting her feet, one after the other and scrunching her toes as though to relieve the tension or joint pain.
    â€˜Don’t tell me,’ he said. ‘You’re plumb tuckered out.’
    â€˜You guessed it. You have no idea what fourteen kilometres has done to my feet. This never happens on the running machine.’ She unscrewed the cap on her Chardonnay, pulled a wine glass across the bench top and poured wine. She lifted the bottle and her eyebrows his way.
    Jamie shook his head. ‘I’ll have a beer.’
    She grabbed one out of the fridge, closed the door with a kick of her backside and hobbled over to him.
    â€˜Thanks.’ He unscrewed the cap and took a slug. And couldn’t hold back his next question. ‘Are you going to stay the whole holiday, Katie?’
    She paused, obviously mulling over her answer. She sipped her wine. ‘Yes, please,’ she said softly, not looking at him. ‘If