“And I have decent employees who could keep the farm ticking over while I worked here.”
“It looks amazing.”
He turned to her, the grin on his face pure filth. “And what did you think of the bathroom?”
She chose to ignore the bait. “I loved the bath.”
He continued to stir the pan, turning down the heat, then adding whisky to the bottom of each mug. “Never used it.”
“Really? That’s a crime.”
“I prefer to get sudsy in the shower, but you saw that, didn’t you?”
“It was steamy in there. Difficult to see anything.” Bare faced lie. She’d definitely seen enough.
Jake shook his head, turning off the heat altogether and pouring the cocoa into each mug. He took out a teaspoon and gave each drink a quick stir before taking the mugs to the sleek table in the middle of the room. It was big enough for twelve people, easily, and the perfect height for things she shouldn’t be thinking about when she was dressed like this in the house that belonged to the Big Bad Wolf.
“Enjoy. It’ll help you sleep.” He passed her a mug.
She took it, holding it up to clink his with a murmured cheers, before taking a tiny sip. It was too hot to drink yet, but the whisky fumes were already acting as a soporific.
“What’s given you fear of people hiding in your room?”
She frowned, shook her head. “Any normal person has a fear of that.”
“Any normal person also knows that they’re being irrational if they bang on their neighbour’s door at eleven at night to check they’re not hiding somewhere.”
“Most normal people don’t sneak into their neighbour’s house to put frogs in their bed.”
“Most normal people don’t go snooping in their neighbour’s house when they’re just dropping a parcel off.”
“Most normal people lock their doors when they’re in the shower.” She sipped the cocoa again. It was amazingly sinful. “How did you get in mine anyway? I had locked up.”
“Window.”
“Is that going to become a regular thing?”
“Not if you tell me what’s made you so jumpy about someone being in your house.”
She put the mug down. This wasn’t a topic she was used to discussing. Most people would be fearful of someone hiding in their house, she knew that. Most people hadn’t experienced what it was like first-hand, as a child.
And most of the time she didn’t share it with someone who wasn’t much more than a stranger.
“We had an intruder in our house when I was little who tried to kidnap me. He hid in my bedroom and waited for everyone to go to sleep. We think the plan was for him to pass me out of the window to his accomplice and then demand a ransom.” She took another sip of the cocoa, remembering the first time she’d described what happened to her therapist, the person who’d been the reason why she’d chosen this career. “My siblings were staying at our cousins and it was just me and my mum in the house.”
“What happened?”
“The dog. He figured something out and bit the guy – badly. I managed to get out of the room and my mum phoned the police. They were there within minutes and we were all okay.”
Jake had set his drink down, his elbows on the table in a way that would’ve had any good dinner lady tell him off for manners.
“Hence you’re a counsellor?”
“Therapist. Yes. I didn’t sleep at night for months after and I had to have every cupboard door open and left open so no one could hide. All the beds had to be changed to ottomans so no one could hide underneath. It screwed me up.” Lainey smiled and it wasn’t forced. “I learned to deal with it. CBT – cognitive behaviour therapy – worked, and I spent a lot of time outdoors and more time with horses. Three years after it happened, I was okay. Five years and I was better. Now it’s only the odd moments where I can’t rationalise what’s happening because I’m heightened that I have to check.”
He nodded. “I would make myself known.”
“I like how you’re not promising not to break into my house again.” She raised an eyebrow.
