Page 93 of A Fresh Start at Bramble Cottage
“Work? What work?”
Vicky sighed impatiently. “Assistant manager at the hotel.”
He frowned. “You’re a qualified estate agent. What do you want with a job as an assistant manager in some crappy little three-star hotel?”
“Four star.” She stepped past the car and stalked up the drive. “We can’t stand here arguing — I suppose you’d better come in.”
“That’s not a very warm welcome.”
“What do you expect?” She opened the door and left him to follow her into the kitchen.
He glanced around, his professional eye evaluating the changes. “Well, this is certainly an improvement. Though you’ve spent rather too much on it — you’ll be lucky to recoup the cost.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not selling.”
“Not... ? Well, what are you going to do with it?”
“Live in it. Would you like a coffee?”
“Live in it? Don’t be ridiculous. What would you want to do that for?”
“I like it. It’s a nice cottage, a nice village. I have a job, friends.” She chose not to mention that she had a boyfriend.
“You had a job and friends, until you walked away.”
“The job wasn’t really all that, and my friends were mostly your friends. I can’t say I miss any of them. Was that a yes to the coffee?”
He sat down at the kitchen table. “You’ve changed.”
She returned him a bland smile. “Yes, I expect I have. I don’t see that as a problem.”
She turned her back on him to fill the coffee machine.
Had he always been so annoying? As if he had the right to just walk in here and question her decisions. Breaking off her engagement had been the best thing she had ever done — perhaps her stepsister had inadvertently done her a favour by hardening her determination not to back down.
She glanced at the clock. Tom would usually come over around this time in the evening. But she knew that some of the cows were due to calf, and there was one that they had been a little concerned about, so he could be up with them all night.
The coffee was ready. She added more cream to hers than she had usually allowed herself when she had been with Jeremy, and carried the two mugs over to the table.
“So what are you doing here?” she asked again.
“We need to talk.” He gestured impatiently with his hand. “That day... I just came home and found your ring, and that stupid note. No explanation. How could you just end it like that, with no warning?”
Vicky sipped her coffee slowly, contemplating what to tell him. “How’s Jayde?”
A flicker of his eyes told her that she had hit home. “Jayde? Your stepsister? Why ask me that?”
“Have you come back to me because things didn’t work out with her?”
“What things? Don’t be silly, Vicky. Whatever would I have to do with Jayde?”
“You tell me.”
“Oh, really, this is ridiculous! Have you got some stupid idea in your head that I was having an affair with her?” Too much bluster — he was giving himself away. “Of course she’s pretty enough, if you like that sort. But frankly she’s a bit of an airhead. I don’t think she’s got two brain cells to rub together.”
“You don’t need brain cells in bed.”
“Oh, come on, Vicky.” Indignant now. “You’re imagining things — letting jealousy get the better of you. Don’t you trust me?”
