Page 21 of A Colourful Country Escape
‘Quite.’
His sarcastic one-wordish-ness was infuriating. As though sensing the blood boiling up towards her head, Ben continued in less confrontational tones.
‘OK. I can see you’re extremely … creative.’ His gaze landed on a box of paperwork that was spilling its contents all over the floor. ‘But if I’m to trust you with my online life, maybe I can assist with some of your offline paraphernalia.’
‘It’s under control,’ she insisted, her jaw getting tight. ‘You don’t need to micro-manage my life. You pay me for the work I do. No additional favours are required.’
He shrugged. ‘Well, if you ever want to move some of these boxes into the house to give yourself space … ’
‘No. Thank you.’ She thrust out a leg and shoved one of the offending boxes out of sight. ‘I have plenty of room.’ Out-of-date bills and papers from a life gone by spumed out and said otherwise.
Keen to deflect the heat again, Lexie moved the topic back to the new branding she was determined to fight for. She broke the news that if the business was to embrace the new online look she was creating, everything must change with it. From signage to stationery to the artwork on the cans of paint. Lexie could almost see Ben’s hackles rising. He snatched up some of his paperwork, holding it like a barrier against this unwanted upheaval.
‘There’s no need for you to get involved in anything outside of the virtual world.’
‘There absolutely is. We can’t leave your clients feeling confused – consistency is key. Anyway, didn’t you just say there was no point in having your online life in order, if real life wasn’t?’
‘There is nothing wrong with myreal life, thank you, Miss Summers.’
‘Well, there must be. Otherwise your mother wouldn’t have to hook you up with a woman.’
Oh God, how had that popped out? It wasn’t even relevant. And why did she keep coming back to that thought? She just wanted to rewind. Preferably to some point before she’d invited him to have their first business meeting in a cramped, steamy van, which really did smell of curry.
He was gripping onto his papers so tightly, she could see the whites of his knuckles.
‘Can we just stick to the agenda. Please?’ He rubbed the back of his neck.
Something about his tone told her the subject was closed. She was already on shaky enough ground this evening, without causing any more tremors. Although the whole thing was strangely intriguing …
Ben shook out his papers with an irritated flourish, bringing her back to the present.
‘You talked about starting ablog.’
Why did he have to say it with that disbelieving tone?
‘Yes,’ she replied, feeling like an indignant teenager but determined not to cross her arms. ‘A blog is a real thing, you know.’
‘I’m sure. So sell it to me. What will it be about?’ He took another long swig of his Singha and she instinctively grabbed him another one
‘Lots of things.’ She wanted to stay huffy, but she had so many simmering ideas she knew she’d struggle to contain her excitement.
‘Enlighten me.’
The temperamental lamp flickered again and Ben leaned over this time, giving the worktop a firm tap. Hmm, did he usually wear that much aftershave? The strong woody scent teased Lexie’s nose and she got herself another beer. She was just being observant, of course.Smelt goodwas about all that could be said for him right then.
‘I actually have heaps of ideas for the blog, although you’ll probably hate most of them.’ She paused for his cutting remark, but it didn’t come.
‘People love real tales that tug at the heartstrings and bring your family business to life.’ She could feel the thrill building inside her. Painting pictures with words was one of the best things about her job. It warmed her right from her fluffy-slippered toes to her belly.
‘I want to take your clients on emotional journeys that will change their hearts for ever. Stories that will have them flocking to you, investing in the magic of your paints.’ She was leaning towards him now, the warmth from her enthusiasm radiating into the chilly van.
‘When you wrap people up in a story, when you pull them in and cosy your soft blanket of words around their skin, make their senses dance with the woody scent of the breeze, you produce chemical reactions in their brains. You change the very make-up of their bloodstream.’
Their faces were inexplicably close now. He must have leaned in too, drawn in by her stream of energy.
Suddenly all too aware, she shook her head and they both moved backwards.
‘Er, sorry. I got a tad impassioned. Not sure where that came from.’ And what the bloody hell was that thing about woody scents? He surely knew that was inspired by his aftershave. This was her boss! And mostly an annoying one.
