Eight
Molly gave her dad a thumbs up, but having done so, she felt a bit odd, considering the circumstances. Even so, he smiled at her and mirrored her gesture from a couple of doors away. He was standing outside Acorn Cottage, home of Vera and Rita Boot, while Molly was outside Oak View Cottage, waiting for Jemma to answer the doorbell.
Loud laughter emanated from within and Molly wondered if the TV was on, because one of the roars of laughter she had heard was definitely a man’s. Unless Jemma had a man with her? But Jemma hadn’t mentioned she would be seeing a friend.
The door swung open and Jemma beamed at her. ‘Good morning, Molly. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting.’
‘Good morning, Jemma. No. Not at all. I hope I’m not disturbing you but we did say ten o’clock, didn’t we?’
‘Yes. And no, you’re not. It’s lovely to finally meet you.’
‘It’s lovely to meet you too.’
‘Oh. What am I thinking? Come on in.’
Jemma stood aside to let Molly pass and that was when Molly spotted the tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired man standing inthe hall. He had a gorgeous smile and was very easy on the eye. And there was something familiar about him.
‘Hello, Molly,’ he said, walking towards her, his hand outstretched. ‘I don’t suppose you remember me. I’m the next-door neighbour, Greg. Greg Bishop. It’s good to see you again. I was sorry about your gran.’
Molly was so taken aback that it took her a moment to respond to his friendly greeting.
‘Hi Greg. Of course I remember you. It’s good to see you too.’ She shot a glance back at Jemma asking a silent question. ‘How do you two know each other?’
Jemma must have read Molly’s mind, although she wasn’t looking at Molly when she spoke. She was looking directly at Greg.
‘Greg and I met this morning. I bumped right into him at just gone five a.m. as I was on my way to the beach for a walk.’
‘I bumped into you, to be precise,’ Greg said, grinning warmly at Jemma as if Molly didn’t exist. ‘I almost knocked you over. What a welcome to the village.’
‘It was a lovely welcome. And I’ve really enjoyed this morning. Thank you so much, Greg.’
‘I’ve enjoyed it too. It was far more pleasurable than my run would’ve been. Bumping into you was the best thing that’s happened to me for some time.’
‘If I’m interrupting, I can come back later,’ Molly said, slightly miffed. These two were acting like besotted teenagers, not total strangers who had only met a few short hours ago.
‘What?’ Jemma looked apologetic. ‘No. I’m sorry, Molly. We’re being rude. Greg was just leaving.’
‘Yes, I was.’ He sort of snorted a friendly laugh. ‘But I can’t seem to drag myself away. Right. I’ll get out of your hair. Which I still say is gorgeous no matter how often you say it isn’t. Oh. I’mglad I got to say hello, Molly. And thank you for renting out this cottage to such a lovely person.’
Molly responded with what she knew was an irritated frown, so she quickly forced a smile. ‘Yes. She is, isn’t she? I had no idea.’
Her sarcasm appeared to go over his head because he smiled at her as he edged his way past, and then he beamed and winked at Jemma whose cheeks were the colour of beetroot.
‘I’ll see you later, Greg,’ Jemma purred.
‘I’m looking forward to it,’ Greg purred back.
Molly coughed loudly. She wanted to be sick.
The truth was, she was a little jealous. She had only seen Greg a few times over the years but, deep down, she had harboured a bit of a crush on him. She might not have remembered his name yesterday when she met the Boot sisters, but she did remember he was handsome.
After she inherited Oak View Cottage, she had hoped she would bump into him. She had even considered knocking on his door to let him know she was now the owner. But something had stopped her. Instead, she hoped they might meet naturally one day very soon. And maybe – just maybe – things would progress from there.
If anything, the man had only improved since the last time she had seen him. That must’ve been a year or more ago. He had smiled at her and they’d exchanged the usual greeting of ‘Hello’. She had tried to think of something more to say to him, but he had appeared to be in a hurry and she had let him dash away.
That smile had not been anywhere near as exuberant as the one he had just bestowed on Jemma.
So Jemma had beat her to it. Jemma the famous author. Jemma with her astonishingly gorgeous red hair. Jemma who was staying in Molly’s bloody cottage! Now Jemma was going to get Molly’s man.
