‘So she’s always been on the farm?’
‘Oh no, she used to have this high-flying job before she got married. She’d be in Paris one week, Madrid the next, at conferences and stuff and she lost it all.’
He put a hand on her knee. ‘She chose to give it up, Daisy, like you’re choosing to do something now.’
‘I’ve only done it now though, because I’m cornered. My boyfriend proposed, it took that to make me realise… I’m not ready to get married. I don’t think we’re even suited.’ There, it was out. She’d said it.
The words had never really formulated in her head before, and now they had it felt like a huge relief. They weren’t suited. They wanted different things. Javier, a man she’d only just met, understood her far better than Jimmy ever had. Jimmy would never have cared enough to not kiss her, which was all a bit perverse because she really, really would have been happy for Javier to forget all about why this wasn’t a good idea. Jimmy had just never ‘got’ her, they’d just been together, in parallel, their lives bumping every now and again.
‘Ahh.’ Javier’s hand retreated, leaving a cold gap. ‘What does he think?’
‘He just wants an easy life.’ She stared across at the Sagrada Familia – one person’s vision. A big dream. ‘I’ve tried to explain, but he won’t listen.’
‘Won’t? Doesn’t want to?’
She sighed. ‘That’s what I meant when I said the freedom had gone to my head, you know, getting away from the expectations, normal life, Jimmy.’
There was a pause. One of those long, pregnant pauses, the type that happened when you had verbal diarrhoea and told somebody you hardly knew all about your dreams, disappointments – and marriage plans. Or not.
‘Normal is whatever you want it to be. A year ago my normal was white-water rafting and mountain-climbing, now it’s tapas-and-wine tours. Slightly different danger levels.’ He grinned, a lopsided grin showing a chipped tooth she hadn’t noticed before.
‘Oh gosh, I’m keeping you from work, I’m sorry. I mean, it’s really good of you to spend all this time with me, but Flo shouldn’t have asked.’ She scrambled to her feet, then hastily took several steps back from the edge.
‘Flo? This is nothing to do with Flo.’ He was looking at her quizzically. ‘What gave you that idea?’
‘You did, you said at the meet-up…’
‘That was just the meet-up, she didn’t tell me to follow you round. Is that what you thought?’
‘Well…’
‘Nobody told me to keep an eye on you, Daisy. I’m sure you’re more than capable of looking after yourself. I’m here because,’ he shrugged, ‘well, I want to be, I guess.’
‘You guess?’ She laughed.
‘You’re good company, and’ his turn to pause, ‘I haven’t got anything better to do.’
‘Touché. Ha-ha, thanks for that.’
‘You’re welcome. Ready to go?’
‘Yep, then you can have the afternoon to do…’
‘I wasn’t planning on going back yet, I’m going to give you one of my tours.’
‘Oh. Are you sure?’
‘Stop asking. I wouldn’t offer, and you can count it as work if it helps your conscience. I want to check out some new bars.’
Daisy stared at him and couldn’t help the smile that started as a flutter somewhere in her chest then spread through her whole body. He was wonderful company, he’d been kind and generous, but all along she’d had this niggle at the back of her mind that even though he’d said he liked being with her, he was there out of a sense of duty.
‘You’re sure?’ She had to be certain.
He shook his head and grinned. ‘Do you honestly think I’d risk ruining my scooter engine taking you up that hill for any other reason than I really wanted to?’
Really wanted to. Daisy hugged the words to her, repeated them in her head, and was pretty sure she had a very stupid grin on her face.
***
‘You can’t believe how starving I am, are you sure they’ll still be serving?’ Daisy dived down the steps into the tiny corner bar and then stopped abruptly.
‘Still serving?’ Javier laughed. ‘Lunch time starts at 2 p.m. in Spain – we’re early.’ He was right up behind her and side-stepped, putting an arm round her as he went so that they didn’t collide. ‘Sorry, is there something wrong?’
‘It’s lovely. Look!’ She pointed up at the ceiling, ‘that’s amazing. It’s made of bricks, isn’t it?’ It really was the cutest bar she’d ever been in, and she thought the El Xampanyet bar Flo had taken them to had been incredible. But this place was so welcoming, without the crowds of the cava bar, and was like stepping into the past. It was laid-back, a bit like the pubs at home.
‘The volta catalana: it’s the traditional ceiling here, wooden beams and bricks done in arches. It’s been here a while, this place – one of my favourites.’ Javier steered her towards a table.
‘It’s incredible, and what are those wooden cupboards?’
‘Fridges.’ He grinned. ‘Old ones.’
‘Look at all the wine, and those barrels.’
‘It used to be a wine bodega years ago. Sit down, I’ll get us a beer, unless you want cava?’
‘Beer’s fine. Oh wow! I want all that food.’ Daisy stared at the tapas that were displayed behind the small bar and her stomach growled in sympathy.
‘I’ll get us an assortment, if that’s okay? Some of the specialities?’
‘Whatever you say, Mr wine-and-tapas, you’re the expert.’
On her own she wouldn’t have dared order half the food Javier picked out, as she hadn’t got a clue what they were. Even the jamon, which she’d thought was ridiculously over-priced, was delicious.
‘I can see why this is so popular.’
‘You can spend a fortune on jamon, and it’s one of those things you can’t miss when you come to Spain. This is the best acorn-fed black pig.’
‘So is this place on your list?’ She smiled, ‘you said you were doing research.’
‘Well no, this is an old haunt,’ he was sitting back in his chair, hair ruffled and looking totally at home, ‘but I wanted to bring you here. I thought you’d like it.’
‘I do.’ And I like you, far too much, Daisy thought with a sigh.
***
‘Jimmy, I think we need to call it off.’ Well she didn’t think, she knew, but she was trying to do this as gently as she could.
There was a clatter in the background. ‘Hang on, let me bang this fence post in, bloody thing. What did you say?’
‘I don’t think we should get married.’
‘Rubbish, damned thing,’ was he talking to her or the post? ‘You’ve just got cold feet. And anyhow, I’ve got the ring now.’
‘I know, I’m sorry, but I can’t—’
‘You’ll be fine when you get back home and back to normal. Bloody hell, I think I’ve hit a bleeding stone again.’ He cursed a couple more times and Daisy cringed. ‘This field is terrible.’
‘Jimmy, can’t you stop and talk to me?’ It was the same as it always was, whether she was standing next to him, or miles away, he wasn’t listening. He wasn’t even missing her, not really.
‘Some of us have got work to do, Daisy. We’re not all living it up in Spain and it’s getting dark. We can talk when you get back. You don’t know what I’ve done with that new claw hammer I bought, do you?’
‘No, sorry.’
‘Right. It’s not in your shed?’
‘No, didn’t you say you’d lost it?’
He never had been very good on the phone. Or talking.
Chapter 16 – Flo. Poetry and wine
Flo flung the bedroom curtains open and stretched. Then stopped, mid-way, her arms half in the air like a footballer supporter who thought there was going to be a goal then realised they looked a fool, and didn’t know how to back down without being noticed.
She dropped her hands and rested them on the windowsill. Oh, my God, they had
snow. Proper, white cover-everything snow.
Snow! Flo pressed her forehead to the cold pane of glass and grinned.
It hung like heavy icing from the shrubs and trees in the back garden, had gathered in a fluffy swathe in the edge of the chicken-coop roof and decorated the tops of the fence rails as though it had been carefully piped out.
On the other side of the fence there were a several large hoof-print shaped holes, scars across the perfect landscape. Barney was plodding his way hopefully from shelter to gate and back again, in search of food. He spotted her and stopped – gazing up at the window, his whiskers and eyebrows comically frosted.
The window had misted over and she wiped it with her sleeve, then flung it open and pushed her head through the small opening. There was an air of quiet expectancy, as though the countryside was waiting for something to happen, to break the spell. Flo took a deep breath and the cold air bit at her nostrils and throat, and the breath she breathed out hung for a moment before drifting away. She giggled. This was amazing. Magical. Exactly what she had really, really missed about Christmas back in Cheshire.
Barney whinnied, and downstairs Mabel barked in response. ‘Okay, okay, let me get my clothes on and I’ll be out to feed you.’
***
Mabel was standing with her nose pressed against the door handle, sniffing hard and whimpering in anticipation, as though the cold air that was finding a way in through the crack had told her that something exciting, something new, was out there. Her tail banged against the wall as Flo slipped her feet into the wellingtons and grabbed the key for the shed that served as a food store.
‘Shall we go on an egg hunt, Mabel?’ The dog whined and sat down, pawing at the door. ‘You like snow?’ Laughing, Flo opened the back door, Mabel shoving her nose into the gap as soon as there was one and forcing her way out first. ‘You’ve no manners, you naughty girl.’ She glanced up to see Hugo standing on the other side of the fence, which was wonderful and terrible all at once. She covered up the sudden, and totally unwelcome, rush of affection by saying the first thing that came into her head. ‘Like somebody else I know.’
‘That’s rather unfair.’
‘Totally justified – one doesn’t lunge at ladies. Did your parents never teach you that?’ Okay, he might have a point; it might not actually be totally fair. After all, he had shown just how wonderful he was with his horse yesterday. She’d seen a warm, very human, side to him that she’d never suspected existed and it had left her feeling totally confused. And he had apologised for being an idiot and trying to get her into bed. But it really didn’t help her at all.
It had been a lot easier to fight him off when he’d been acting the womaniser he really was (even Daisy said he was, and she had to know him quite well), now he was just a very lethal combination. A very attractive, very smooth-talking, man with a heart. Who’d do an Oli on her if she let him get within a mile of her own, still slightly battered, one.
She’d gone to bed very late, after finding that pouring the fictional version of Hugo down on the page came remarkably easy, and then he’d somehow managed to creep into her dreams. Again. It really wasn’t good, but as long as she could keep him between the fictional pages and sheets she’d be fine. The last thing she needed messing with her emotions right now was the real-life Hugo.
For a moment he looked cross, then he laughed. ‘Some ladies like it, I had rather hoped you’d be one of them.’
‘Well dream on, Hugo. I’m not Daisy you know.’
‘Oh, I am well aware of that.’ His lazy drawl was disgustingly dirty as his eyes roamed over her from head to toe, sending an equally disgusting image of him naked straight into her head. ‘Daisy is sweet, kind, spends her life in wellingtons, and is totally devoted to her animals, and,’ his gaze seemed to pause around chin level, then shifted up so he met her head-on, the pause was excruciating, ‘I have absolutely no desire at all to sleep with her.’
‘If the pipes weren’t frozen I’d tip a bucket of cold water over you.’ Then she’d run in for a cold shower herself.
He grinned. Wolfishly.
She shook her head, fighting the urge to nod or smile, which would encourage him and take them where she really wasn’t prepared to go. ‘No hope for you, is there? Poor Daisy.’
‘What do you mean poor Daisy?’
‘Well I get to escape you soon, she has to come back and live here next door to you.’
‘What kind of books do you write? I’d rather imagine there’s a girl who kicks ass in there, gets rid of your inner anger.’
‘Stop being a pompous prick, Hugo, you haven’t seen a half of my inner anger yet. But, for your information, right now I’m imagining the type of woman who would rather a man got off his arse and helped open the chicken coop instead of grilling her from the other side of the fence.’
‘No ass-kicking?’
‘In your dreams.’ She laughed as Mabel, who had bounced up the path ahead pounced on some invisible prey in the snow and then snuffled her nose through it like a mini snowplough, until her whiskers and eyebrows were covered in a fluffy layer.
Following in the dog’s rather large footsteps she slithered her way across the lawn, a tub of chicken feed in one hand, and a crowbar (the first thing she’d spotted in the shed) in the other – to break the ice on Barney’s water bucket. Her phone rang.
‘I could jump over the fence and rescue that from your pocket?’
She swung the crowbar that was dangling from her fingers from side to side, and narrowed her eyes at him.
‘Maybe not.’ But his gaze was still roaming over her body in a way that was very unsettling. It was making her feel all fidgety.
She opted to put the chicken feed down and answered the phone. ‘Oh, that’s a bit of a bugger.’
‘Bad news?’
‘My supermarket delivery might be a bit late; the van is waiting to be pulled out of the ditch it slid into.’
‘Maybe the fruits of the countryside will provide.’
He was mad, slightly poetic, but crazy. Then she noticed he was staring pointedly over her left shoulder, so she swivelled round.
‘Oh my God, what the hell?’ There was something hanging from a hook at the side of the back door, and if she hadn’t been so busy looking at snow, and Mabel, and Hugo, she might have noticed earlier.
‘You’ve got a very limited vocabulary for a writer.’ He was back to laughing at her again, which was something she’d hoped he’d stopped doing. ‘A brace of pheasants. The shoot always leave us some – seems the food crisis is solved.’
‘You are kidding? They’ve got feathers!’
‘If Daisy was here she’d have them skinned and oven-ready by lunch time.’
‘Well, I think we’ve already established I am not Daisy.’
‘We certainly have.’ The light was still shining in his grey eyes, but he didn’t look quite so predatory now. ‘I tell you what, I’ll get off my arse as requested, clean them, and cook them for tea tonight.’
Mabel bounced back, her tail wagging. She’d snorted her way into making a nice oval, which was just dying for a snowman to be built in the middle of it. And she had the animals to feed. And she really would rather play with the snow than worry about food for tea.
‘Deal, you can have them. Providing you help me get the eggs from under these bloody hens.’
He raised an eyebrow.
‘Well you haven’t got anything better to do, have you?’ She could keep this up, she really could. Then he’d back off and she’d be safe from herself as well as him. Except he was making it pretty much impossible, the way he was hanging round, being helpful. Looking at her in a way that was making her all wriggly inside.
He sighed, rolled his eyes, and shook his head so that his blond hair flopped over his forehead and made him look rather boyishly attractive. Or rakish, yeah, rakish. Bad news. Bad for her.
‘Bring back sweet little Daisy. Oh, and Flo?’ That innocent look on his face meant trouble, she just knew i
t did. ‘I didn’t mean I wanted them, I meant I’d cook them for dinner for the two of us. I’ll see you at 8 p.m.’
Oh God, now he was being nice again, cooking dinner for her? There was a lot, she decided, that could be said in favour of chastity belts and chaperones, as without either she was going to find resisting Hugo incredibly hard. Because deep inside she knew she didn’t want to.
Well, she could pair the wellies with a dress, just to keep his mind on Daisy and off her body. It wasn’t that he wasn’t attractive, but if anything happened with Hugo she’d blame it on a massive big rebound from Oli. Another cad.
Okay, she’d be the one doing the leaving this time, but it still probably wouldn’t do her much good, would it?
Mabel gave a single thump of her tail when she saw Flo, and stretched her legs out further, as though to say ‘shift me if you can’.
‘I’m only going next door, but you’d better stay here.’ Another thump on the floor, and a groan. ‘If you come with me, Hugo’s terriers will be all over you and you won’t get any peace.’ Ha, what was it they said about dogs being like their masters? ‘Be good.’ She glanced round the kitchen, checking she hadn’t let anything out, and then left, pulling the door shut behind her.
Hugo, it appeared, had cleared the pathway between her front door and his. Which was very gentlemanly, but knowing him it was because he expected her to have sexy high heels on.
‘Oh you’re here, good. I’ll crack the bubbly open.’
‘Why, what are we celebrating?’
‘We need an occasion?’ He raised an eyebrow, which she took to mean he liked to open champagne any day of the week.
The Holiday Swap Page 18
