Page 51 of The Twelve Days of Christian
She snort-laughs. “I know you’re from a dairy farm, but surely a country boy like you should know a little about deer farming.”
“They’re a by-product of the venison industry, right? When they kill them for meat, they process the antler too?”
“No,” she shakes her head, her eyes incredulous. “No deer were harmed in the making of these dog chews. They shed their antlers every year.”
“Oh,” I say, stupidly. “I knew that.” It’s true. I did know that, but in Haley’s presence, my brain is scrambled. Her rippling laughter is like the tinkling of the bells on those crazy Christmas socks she loves to wear. I’d be happy to play dumb any time to provoke that sound.
Those first few days here, there was a sadness in Haley. I thought it was me. My fuck up with the show. My disastrous failure of the dog rescue. And, yes, some of it may well have been those things. Although I’m thinking it was more this fucking Jack and Paige who made her that way. She’s doing well tonight, holding it together afterseeing those terrible photos, and then the stress of all this legal stuff today. I’m going to work damn hard to make sure she stays that way.
Her giggle trails away and her eyes are serious now, a dark mossy green, as she sips at the wine. I take a nervous slug of my own and wait.
“Well,” she says, a slow swallow travelling down that pale neck. The one my lips dotted kisses on last night. The one I felt a shiver of need ripple through under my touch. I drag my eyes away from it and focus on Haley’s face.
“Rachel and Jeremy—that’s Tommy’s lawyer—insisted they meet with the production company lawyers on their own this afternoon. Tommy and I hung out in a coffee shop. I think it was a good move. Tommy’s like a stroppy little Jack Russell dying to get his teeth into the rats in the barn. I don’t think it would have gone well with him there.”
“But…did it go well?”
“Apparently, they pretty much just listened. Didn’t reject our argument out of hand. Said they need time to consider our ‘request’.” Her fingers make air quotes around the word. “Suggested it’s more like blackmail. I suppose from their point of view it is. Rachel told them either they put out a press release and film an explanation of what really went down in Scotland to go out with Monday night’s new episode, or Loreena contacts the media.”
I smile, imagining the delight on Rachel’s face delivering that ultimatum.
“They’ll get back to us tomorrow. Jeremy was all smiles and talking it up to Tommy; like it’s going to be just fine. Although Rachel said to me on the way home, we shouldn’t get our hopes up. She doesn’t trust them. Says it almost wenttoowell.”
“She thinks they’re stringing us along?”
“Possibly. Not much we can do but wait it out. The ball’s in their court now.”
“OK.” I’m not happy about that. But it was unrealistic of me to expect an instant solution to this mess. Those lawyers were always going to make it difficult, even if we win in the end. I reach for her hand and give it a squeeze.
“Thank you. For everything.”
She slides off the stool and comes around the counter to stand behind me where I’m stirring the sauce.
“You’re welcome.” Her firm breasts nudge against my back as she leans around to press a kiss on my cheek.
I suck in a breath, overwhelmed by the nearness of her, and lapping up this casual ease which has sprung up between us. I’m not sure how we’ve come this far in one day, but I’m not going to question it. Simply accept it, gratefully.
“I’m going to get changed. Into something more comfortable.” She pulls away and I feel the loss immediately.
“Christmas pyjamas?” I tease.
“Of course,” she says, tossing me a grin as she heads out of the room, like the Pied Piper with the two dogs trailing behind her. I’d happily abandon dinner prep and join the parade. I’d love nothing better than to help her strip off that stuffy shirt and pants, but after I put the brakes on last night, I have to live with the repercussions. Haley’s room is off limits for now. Removing Haley’s clothes is also off limits for now.
I down the glass of wine and pour another large one, hoping it will dull the aching need and my apprehension over the uncertain outcome of Rachel’s work today while I wait for Haley’s return.
Chapter 26
Day Eight
On this wintery Saturdaynight, the pretty snowflakes of earlier give way to a chilly rain. It’s miserable out there. But inside, it feels like we’re on safari in Africa with Ollie.
The fire roars in the hearth, a smoky, crackling inferno. I’ve discovered Christian is a veritable pyromaniac. He wields the poker like a wizard’s staff, a feverish gleam in his eyes, constantly stoking the flames, encouraging them into a violent dance.
I watch in silence, quietly concerned. I hope Ollie had the chimney swept at the end of last winter, otherwise we might be in trouble.
Relief courses through me when, after lobbing one last chunk of wood on top, he brushes crumbs of bark off his hands and steps back, admiring his work.
“There,” he says. “Shouldn’t need much more attention now.”
