Page 12 of A Very Crumbleton Christmas
‘When I saidmake yourself comfortable, it was only a figure of speech!’ he said, his voice coming out all huffy and indignant, even though he was having a seriously hard time keeping a smile off his face.
Caroline promptly attempted to jump to her feet, stumbled on her discarded shoes, and toppled straight back into the cushions.
That did it. Jack let out a loud, surprised roar of laughter and received a deliciously red-faced, sheepish grin in return.
‘That’s my favourite sofa, too,’ he said. Then, with great effort, he straightened his face again and even managed a little frown. ‘Anyway – follow me!’
Jack turned and padded off towards the kitchen. He could hear his visitor struggling up out of the cushions again, though judging by the lighter-than-air footsteps that followed him two seconds later, she hadn’t bothered to put her shoes back on.
‘You know you’re leaving wet footprints, right?’ came a small voice.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jack shrugged, ‘the house is used to it!’
It was true – he was always tracking in sand and saltwater from the beach – much to Trish’s consternation. This time, though, it was clean water from the shower for a change. Jack hadn’t taken long to get out… not compared to his usual hour-long soaks, anyway! He’d was too curious to know what Caroline Cook was doing on his doorstep. On top of that, a small voice at the back of his head kept pointing out that it mightnotbe the best idea to let a reporter roam around the house completely unsupervised.
After a quick rub-down with his towel, he’d thrown on a pair of ancient jeans and a tatty tee-shirt and dashed back downstairs. Maybe he should have taken a bit more care with his appearance considering he had a guest, but hewasoff duty. Besides, she’d invited herself over - so she’d just have to put up with him as he was.
‘So,’ said Jack, rounding the large slate kitchen island and facing her still slightly pink face across its expanse.
‘Erm… yeah,’ she said, staring at him.
He had to hand it to her, she was making impressive eye contact, given the circumstances.
‘You’re probably wondering who I am,’ she added.
‘Not really,’ said Jack.
‘Huh?’
‘I already know who you are!’ said Jack. Again, he had to bite back a smile at the look of pure surprise that crossed her face. ‘You’re Caroline Cook, editor of the Crumbleton Times and Echo.’
‘I… I… how?’ said Caroline.
‘Come on… you didn’t think I’d let a complete stranger into my house while I was having a shower, did you?’ said Jack.
‘But… I,’ Caroline paused and shook her head. ‘But wearestrangers!’
‘Not really,’ said Jack.
‘We’ve not met before!’ said Caroline.
‘Well, no,’ said Jack, ‘but Idoknow for a fact that you’re not an over-eager, crazed fan who’s going to run off with my underwear the minute I turn my back!’
Caroline let out a little splutter. ‘Well no… I guess you would think that.’
Jack watched with interest as she started to fidget. He was having a seriously hard time keeping a straight face, but he didn’t feel like letting her off the hook too soon.
Caroline broke eye contact and started to stare around the room as though she was looking for an escape route. Her eyes landed on his awards - dotted onto the same shelf as the tea and coffee – all woven together with a string of tinsel.
‘Very festive,’ she said, raising an eyebrow.
‘Mmm,’ he said. It was impossible to get a read on the woman. She was a strange mixture of supremely cheeky, horribly guilty and ridiculously funny. ‘So… I suppose you’regoing to splash my name all over the front page of the paper next week?’
‘Nope,’ said Caroline, snapping back to look at him. ‘Actually, I came to ask you for a favour.’
Jack’s eyebrows flew up. Of all the things he’d been expecting – from stuttering excuses to bold-faced interview questions – a favour hadn’t even crossed his mind.
‘Oh?’ he said lightly, as though she hadn’t just completely thrown him for a loop.
