And the more she said the word ‘fine’ the more she realised she was looking at Jacques like he was the very definition of ‘fine’ – the way Erin used it to describe hot guys. Well, it had been a while and all this going from freezing weather to roaring wood stack was bound to do something to a woman’s temperature. It was getting quite warm in here…
‘Gerard did not tell you he crashed the car?’ Jacques said to Delphine.
‘He did not!’
‘Well,’ Jacques said, picking up a mug from the tray. ‘More secrets in Saint-Chambéry. What a surprise.’
Orla needed to step in. Right now she was feeling there were more reasons for hernotto be here than the other way around.
‘OK,’ she began. ‘So, maybe we need a more formal introduction. My name is Orla Bradbee and I work forTravel in Mindmagazine and I was told to come here to interview someone called Wolf who can’t speak and find out about the pregnant reindeer. So, is any of that going to happen or should I get the next taxi back to the airport?’
Delphine snorted. ‘There are no taxis in Saint-Chambéry.’
‘And Gerard drives like he’s Albanian,’ Erin announced.
And none of those responses were getting Orla closer to answers. She opened her mouth, ready to say exactly that except someone beat her to it.
‘You’re Orla Bradbee?’
It was Jacques and he had said her full name like it was somehow familiar to him. An involuntary shudder rolled through her and she had no idea why.
‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘Were you expecting someone else? Because I’m literally the only one crazy enough to get on a plane in December and I had to bring my sister with me.’
‘Oi! Don’t make it sound like you don’t totally love me!’
There was something written in Jacques’s expression now that was pinching at Orla. His dark brown eyes seemed veiled, a pulse reacted in his jawline. He was looking at her but not looking at her, seeking some kind of visual clarification that she existed. Finally, he took a deep breath and his attention went to Delphine.
‘I do not know what this is, Delphine, but you need to leave. All of you.’
‘Wait, what?’ Erin exclaimed. ‘We just came. On a tractor. And your dog basically attacked us. And it’s freezing. And this coffee is terrible when you have a machine that could run Starbucks. And you haven’t let my sister ask you one question yet! And… did I say it’s freezing?’
‘Jacques, we are your guests. And you are French. You have to extend hospitality,’ Delphine said, stuttering a little over her words.
‘I have made coffee and I did not let Hunter maul you. I do not know what else you would expect with no warning of your arrival. You know how I feel about that, Delphine.’ He glared at the older woman.
‘You’re right,’ Orla said finally. ‘We should go. This whole thing is a waste of everyone’s time. Come on, Erin.’
‘What?’ Erin exclaimed. ‘But we’ve only just got here. I can’t go back out in the cold yet!’
‘Exactly! And, Jacques, you know how my tractor is! It needs time to cool down before starting up again,’ Delphine added.
‘I don’t care,’ Orla stated, making sure the zip on her coat was fully up to her neck. ‘I’ve never been anywhere less hospitable, and I’ve been to a lot of places. Thank you for the coffee. Come on, Erin.’
‘Orla, what are you doing?’ Delphine called.
Orla was striding towards the door with only one thing on her mind. Getting out of here as quickly as possible even if she had to walk back to the village. OK, so she knew it wasn’t the shortest distance but it would be fine. She’d trekked through harsher terrain than a bit of French snow…
Suddenly there was a loud click, just as she reached the door and when she pulled on the handle it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, added more force. Why wasn’t this a normal door? Why wasn’t there a keyhole with keys to turn? She gripped the handle again and forced it up and down and down and up, hoping for a different result.
‘It won’t open. It does not matter how hard you pull it.’
She turned around and faced Jacques who was standing just behind her.
‘Well, that sounds like a big issue if there was ever a fire,’ she replied.
‘Or a plus if there is an avalanche,’ Jacques answered.
‘So, what do I do to get out if it’s not pulling the handle?’ Orla asked, frustration needling her. ‘Is there a pad to take a fingerprint? Or a retinal scan?’
