Total pages in book: 194
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 183150 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 916(@200wpm)___ 733(@250wpm)___ 611(@300wpm)
Jx
My soppy side swoons slightly, but then the sensible side of my brain – the part that’s not completely consumed with Jesse – is screaming that The One is actually someone who drops to their knees and obeys his every command, demand and instruction. While I’m fully aware that I’ve done exactly that, on numerous occasions, I also need to keep a hold of my identity and my mind. It’s bloody hard when I’m so affected by this man. He’s already got my body – or claimed it, more like.
My phone starts ringing. I ignore the pang of disappointment at hearing the standard ringtone, but I can’t ignore the pang of panic when I see Matt’s name flashing up on the screen, though. What does he want?
‘Hello?’ I greet as bored as I intended it to be.
‘Ava, I didn’t think you would answer.’ His voice is cautious, and it should be after the stunt he pulled. I don’t know why I even answered.
‘Why would you think that, Matt?’ The sarcasm is dripping from my voice. The worm has a nerve after what he said and how he behaved.
‘I’m sorry, Ava. I was bang out of line. Everything got on top of me. My boss told me that redundancies are going to be happening…and…it…urm…well, it put me on edge.’
Oh, lovely. So he thought he’d try to get me back on that basis? Does he want financial security if he happens to lose his job? Cheeky twat! Does he realise what he’s just said?
‘I’m sorry about that.’ I reply flatly.
‘Thanks. It just brought things home. I’ve lost you, and now I might be losing my job. It’s all gone tits up.’ His voice is quivering with emotion.
I sigh. ‘I’m sure you’ll be fine.’ I assure him in my best calming tone. ‘You’re good at your job.’ He really is. He has the confident – a bit too confident – attitude required of a sales person.
‘Yeah, I just wanted to make amends with you, though.’
That’s okay with me, as long as he doesn’t hit me with another “I want you back” speech. What was he thinking? ‘It’s fine, don’t worry. I’ll see you about, okay?’
‘Yeah, we could do lunch again,’ he adds quickly. ‘As friends…of course, I still have these boxes with the last of your stuff.’
‘I’ll pick them up next week. Take care, Matt.’ I ignore his lunch suggestion.
‘You too,’
I hang up, tossing my phone onto my desk. As much as he’s a twat, I don’t wish unemployment on him. He’ll be fine. I put Matt out of my head and concentrate on getting some work done. I pretend not to check my phone every ten minutes to make sure it’s on and the volume is up. Why hasn’t he called?
I walk down our street after picking up a bottle of wine and see Kate in the distance, jumping around in the middle of the road like the red headed nutter that she is. As I near, I do a double take. Parked up next to Margo is another bright pink van, but this one’s brand spanking new. So, Kate’s finally invested in some new wheels. It’s about time.
‘Nice wheels.’ I say as I approach.
She spins around, her blue eyes dancing, her pale cheeks flushed. ‘Do you know anything about this?’
Me? ‘Why would I?’
‘I just got home and it was parked here. I admired it for a bit, walked through the front door and trod on the keys. Look.’ She thrusts the keys under my nose, prompting me to look at the note attached to a piece of string on the key ring.
‘No more bruised butts, please.’
No! He wouldn’t have, surely? I think back to his fierce reaction to my battered bottom.
‘Have you spoken to Sam?’ I ask.
‘Yep, he said I should speak to Jesse.’
‘Why would he say that?’ I ask shortly.
‘Well, obviously, because he thinks Jesse is the mystery van buyer.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘If the Lord has brought me a van so you don’t bruise your arse again, then I’ll…well, I’ll love the fact that you bruise like a peach!’
This can’t be right. ‘Kate, you can’t accept it.’
She looks at me in disgust, and I know that there’s not a hope in Hell of her returning the van. I can see it in her delighted eyes.
‘No fucking way! Don’t you dare make me give it back, I’ve already christened her.’
‘What?’ My tone is seriously lacking patience.
She spreads her long, pale fingers over the bonnet. ‘Meet, Margo Junior.’ She lays her torso down on the bonnet of Margo Junior, caressing the pink metal.
I shake my head in exasperation, stomping up the path to the house. No doubt she loves the impossible prat even more now. What’s his game, with flowers for Sally and a van for Kate? Oh, and tossing the Queen’s currency on the kitchen table like it’s a tea towel?