Zack looked up to the heavens and prayed once more for the patience to not use his cousin for animal feed. “Stop thinking with your dick all the time.”
“Just because you’ve taken your vows to become a monk.”
Zack banged again and a light flicked on.
“Just a moment. The lock’s a bit stiff…” a light, tuneful voice called back.
“Push the door to when you turn,” he shouted back. He’d battled with that door for eight years.
“Oh.” There was a click and then a squeal as the door opened. “That’s helped. Thank you. How did you know?”
The woman in front of him was not an old crone but she did look like she could hex men, just not with spells. She was slight, just to his shoulder in bare feet, and had long straight red hair that fell down her back. Her face was dusted with white, probably from scraping plaster and there was a piece of wallpaper stuck to the side of her head that she was completely unaware of.
Zack was sure Jake had let out a low whistle behind him, probably because she was wearing a thin grey vest and the cold air was doing nothing to help the fact that she was braless.
“You’ve poached my builders.” He stepped forward over the threshold. “You’ve ruined Christmas for a hundred senior citizens and their families.”
She folded her arms, which did nothing to distract his eyes from her chest. He glanced down once and then caught her smiling viciously. “I have a hotel to get ready for a wedding in five weeks’ time, otherwise I’m screwed. I need builders.”
“Then find some. But not mine. I have an entire building that’s only half done. They’ve left their jobs because Miss-Flashy-Pants has flashed money at them.”
“It’s a bonus if they get the job down in three weeks. Then you can have them back! Nice to meet you by the way.”
“The pleasure’s all yours, sweetheart. You want to run a business in this town, you need to have some respect for your fellow residents. Poaching workers like you’ve done is not the way to do things. When your hotel’s out of food for your guests’ breakfasts and you want to serve local, don’t bother coming to my family’s farm to fill their plates.” Zack wanted to kick something. Forget the pub, after this he needed to go to the gym or something and lift heavy.
Sorrell’s arms dropped from her chest and her hands landed on her hips. “If I’d known how rude the people were who lived around here, I’d have found somewhere else for my hotel. Maybe I need signs up telling people to beware of the local residents, not to watch out for cows on the road!”
“Or alpacas,” Jake said quietly.
Sorrell frowned, looking confused.
“Shut up, Jake.” Zack glared. “Maybe you should think about stopping your pet project here and finding somewhere else for your fancy hotel.” He gave a look that would’ve murdered anything slightly timid. “And you have Mrs Gibbons’ wallpaper in your hair.”
She lifted a hand, small fingers searching for the offending item.
“Come on, Jake, let’s go.” Zack heard Jake mutter something and start to step away. “By the way, the key for the cellar door looks the same as the one for the small outhouse. I forgot to write it down in the pack.”
He turned around and walked off, refusing to think about long red hair and plump lips.
Chapter 2
The piece of wallpaper that had been attached to Sorrell’s hair was thick and decorated with blue and yellow flowers. It was the wallpaper her grandmother, or possibly her great-grandmother, would’ve chosen and it had already been a bugger to get off the walls in the bedroom.
She rested her back against the now closed door and slid down it on to the floor. She hadn’t expected visitors, and definitely not ones who were accusing her of poaching their builders.
They were right though. She had poached the builders, offering them more than they were getting per day at the job they were already on, but her job was a shorter one and she needed it to be finished else the reputation of Boutique Seven would be tarnished before it’d even had a chance to shine. And she couldn’t fail at this. She had more than one point to prove, and they all needed to be sharp. This was her life now, and she needed to make it successful.
Sorrell put her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands, trying not to cry. She was tired, irritated and stressed. Throw a few hormones in there and the fact she had heard from her dickhead of an ex today and she was ready for either getting blind drunk or crying herself blind. But she didn’t have time for a hangover tomorrow and she refused to cry over stupid men.
A knock sounded behind her, making her jump and she wondered for the hundred and seventh time why she was staying here alone in a creepy house that she was pretty sure was haunted. Not that ghosts bothered her, she just wasn’t used to who else occupied the place yet, which spirits were there to interfere. Because she was that girl: the one who had been slightly weird when she was at school, the one who was interested in things other than boybands and shoes. She was different. Not that she didn’t like those things, just that there was other stuff to focus on.
She stood up, tried to peer through the useless peephole and then gave up. She was too tired to care if a mass murderer was standing outside. At least she’d get some rest if she was killed.
The other man, the one who had mentioned something about alpacas, stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. He was gloriously gorgeous, all light brown hair and a stubbled chin, with a smile that produced a dimple when he turned it on Sorrell.
“I’m sorry about my cousin.” His voice was like melted chocolate and marshmallows. “He’s not had a good day—partly my fault as a few of the alpacas managed to escape and two went into the care home he manages.”
“Oh,” Sorrell said. “The care home that used to be here?”
