Page 9 of A Colourful Country Escape
At last, she caught sight of the house. Her mouth dropped open. It was like one of those mansions in a slightly spooky fairy tale. Tens of windows glared out at her from the beige stone walls. Vines entwined themselves around the bolted white doorway, and turrets sprouted majestically from the rooftop.
She did not belong here. Yet as she glanced over her shoulder, the gates were closing behind her. She pushed her foot against the brake. What was that approaching from the distance? A shimmer of something green and blue, like an iridescent army of eyes. Were they …peacocks? Yes, her sister had been right. The creatures were almost staring her down with their tailfeathers.
Lexie put a hand on her chest, forcing herself to breathe deeply. Her fight-or-flight instincts were having a party in her stomach, with the desire to flee winning the battle. What was this place? Did the paint family own it? Would she have to work here? That would be her worst nightmare, after everything with Drew. All this wealth, shaking its fancy tailfeathers in her face. Making her feel inadequate every single day.
Yet she needed this job and the money. Something she could be good at again, that was as far away from Manchester as possible.
Oh God, what was wrong with her? It was just work. She wouldn’t have to live here. Maybe their office was somewhere else. Perhaps she’d be based in their factory, mingling with honest workers in overalls and inhaling the glorious fresh paint. Yes, she was overreacting.
Right. She should at least get out of the van. Releasing her white-knuckled fingers from the steering wheel, she switched off the engine and coaxed herself onto the gravel driveway.
And promptly wished she hadn’t.
Penny the camper van was not impressed with the choice of venue and voiced her displeasure with a cannon-esque explosion. The engine had backfired.
Then the peacocks were upon her.
The phoenix-like birds advanced on Lexie with squawky open beaks and flaring tails, wailing screams of death. They jarred their angry necks towards her, red tongues darting. She scrambled back into the van and locked the door, puffing in panic. Thank God the lock was working. She’d underestimated these birds, and her sister’s ornithological knowledge. The girl deserved more credit.
Clearly not done, two of the peacocks flapped onto her bonnet and pecked with fury at her already chipped windscreen. Lexie ducked in her seat, shielding herself with her arms. In one final reign of terror, the duo unzipped their bottoms all over Penny’s vintage paintwork. Lexie gagged at the sight of the steaming gunk. Just as she thought she couldn’t take any more, they blithely hopped down and slinked away, looking mildly disgusted at their own handiwork.
Lexie unfurled herself. What on earth?Did that just actually …
She shook her head. She didn’t know whether to cry with relief or laugh at the absurdity of it all.
Then something caught her eye. Two guys standing in the immense doorway of the house, craning their necks to get a better view of the fracas. Great. How long had they been there?
Lexie tried to suss them out. One looked like he’d be happier on a surfboard, with his Hawaiian shorts and sun-streaked knotty hair. At least he seemed entertained.
But the other one. Oh God. His square jaw was set into a look that was the opposite of amused. She eyed his neat dark hair and crisp, well-fitted suit. The pale perfection of his skin told her he didn’t bask anywhere near sunlight, or perhaps even crack a smile. Humiliatingly handsome. So that’s what that phrase meant.
Lexie guessed from her brief Google nosey that Frowny Face was her prospective boss. Or quite possibly not, after that shameful entrance. Maybe she should just reverse straight out of there and dream up another escape from her messy life. She’d be no better off playing second fiddle to this man than she had been living in Drew’s wealthy shadow. He was probably rich and rude too. Even his peacocks didn’t know how to behave.
As Lexie twisted her key in the ignition, her heart stopped. She was going nowhere. At least not without a tow truck. She banged her forehead against the wheel in frustration, half hoping she could knock some sense into herself.
Fate had made the decision for her. She would just have to get out of that van and show these people she was more than a peacock-scaring crazy woman.
What’s the worst that could happen?
Chapter 6
Like a purple pinstripe lamb to the slaughter, Lexie made her walk of disgrace across the driveway towards the intimidating house. She was fast regretting her trademark matching mascara and nose stud, but she hadn’t had time for a full wardrobe change. A quick shimmy into her suit had had to do. At least she was going down in a blaze of Lexie-ness.
She fought to keep her back straight, even if her long frame was determined to curl up like a cheesy Quaver. It was as though her subconscious was willing her to bow to the sheer enormity of this building and the millions of pounds which must be tied up in its stonework. Would the stern guy try and steer her to a tradeperson’s entrance? There was surely still time to leg it from this hideous interview …
But no. She stuck out her chin. With more purposeful strides she landed at the arched white doorway, at the feet of the two men blocking her entrance. The bouncers to her future. Her churning stomach told her she wasn’t sure she wanted in, but she had come this far. Going back was a far worse option – not that a girl with a broken van and no money for petrol had many of those.
Lexie took a deep breath and willed herself to be polite and friendly, even if the harsh guy’s jaw was already set against her. Manners cost nothing, after all. It was just an interview; a chat about stuff. They were just people. It didn’t even matter that one of them was frighteningly good-looking. She just had to skate around the CV issue and try not to balls things up. Simple.
Lexie gave her name and extended a hand, praying one of them would shake it so she didn’t look like an idiot.
The surfer-type gave a little chuckle and grabbed her hand with both of his. ‘Good to meet you. I’m Cory – the little bro who’s too lazy to get involved in the paint emporium.’
‘But interfering enough to set up interviews for roles the business doesn’t need,’ said the stern one in the suit.
‘Hey, like I told you, a business that doesn’t exist online is like a dead fish in the water.’ Cory let go of Lexie’s hand and held up his own in a shrug. ‘Just trying to save your dying arse,’ he directed at his comrade.
The warmth from Cory’s hands had felt like the only thing keeping her there. Now he was shoving them back into his boardshort pockets, she could feel the spring chill creeping back into her. Or was it the cold front from the boss who didn’t want her there? What was going on?
