Love is a Four Letter Word Page 6

  “It’s not stupid, and I can do something with it. Build up a business.”

  “Like what exactly?”

  “Well Toby said he’d be interested, he thinks it’s a good idea. And I do need a place.”

  “He always says that, just in case it turns out to be.”

  “Thanks for the support.”

  “But you can’t even live there, there isn’t a house.”

  “There’s a caravan.”

  “A caravan.” Ella had gone very high pitched, all the way up to screech level. Followed be a raucous laugh. “You, in a caravan?”

  Okay that sounded crazy even to her. “And there’s a grooms flat in the barn. I just want it, Ella.” She was beginning to sound like a six year old kid begging for a puppy.

  “Does biker boy get thrown in as part of the bargain?”

  “Very funny.”

  “You like him.”

  “So?”

  “It’s a field. Georgie. An overgrown lawn.”

  “It was my field.”

  Ella’s sigh travelled across cyberspace. She wasn’t laughing any more. “We’re going out for a drink tonight and getting to the bottom of this.”

  ***

  Jake didn’t want to watch her leave, because he’d be tempted to stop her. So he headed over to the small tack room at the back of the barn. What was it about the girl that meant he either had his hackles up, or an urge to pin her against the fence and shag her senseless? Well, he could figure the second part. But what was there to care about enough to annoy him? True, he liked a challenge but this was getting ridiculous. She just kept creeping under his skin and winding him up. One minute had had to admit to himself he liked her, the next he wanted to give her a good shaking. He couldn’t even decide if she was smart or was completely off her rocker.

  When she’d arrived there had been a hint of the old Georgie, uncomplicated, fun, wrapped up in a ridiculous scarf and old clothes that made her a thousand times more gorgeous than her normal get up. Then it had started. The crew had got on his wick, all pretensions and thinking they could order him about in his own place. And she’d been flirting away with the slime-ball in a way that made his teeth grind. But she’d topped it all, boy had she topped it all, when she’d come out with the statement about ‘sorting it’.

  He’d jumped to the conclusion that she was just confident she could seduce him into doing whatever she wanted. That had been bad, but the truth when it came out had been worse. She wanted to take the place, his place, on. Buy it from underneath him. Like she owned the whole frigging village. Which her dad probably damned near did. What was it with people who had it all, that they just wanted more? They didn’t stop until they’d bled you dry, then moved on to the next poor idiot.

  Yeah, whatever else he had to admit she was fit. But, so what? They were miles apart, she was a stuck up spoiled girl who thought she could do what she wanted, have it all, and he was the bit of rough she thought she could play with. He realised his face was set in a grimace. Which made his stomach muscles tighten that bit more. It didn’t matter what she was after, she was nothing to him. They’d both ended up in the same spot when they needed a quick fix, and they’d got it. Then he’d dropped her off home and drove away, like he always did. End of.

  He pulled on the black leather jacket, zipped it up abruptly. He needed a beer and a girl who didn’t ask questions, who just wanted fun. A girl who wasn’t out to wind him up or prove herself.

  The motorbike roared into life the moment he touched it, he shoved it back off the stand and snapped his visor down. And tried not to remember what the touch of her hands had felt like, what the whisper of her breath down his neck had done to him as they’d powered down the lanes. His body have never been more aware of a woman’s before, he’d never felt so desperate to see through what they’d started quite like he had that night. And that sweet glance of uncertainty she’d given him, mingled with a need he reckoned matched his own, had nearly tipped him over the edge before he’d started.

  She’d long since gone when he reached the lane. It was empty, no sign of a girl in oversize muddy wellies and a scarf that was big enough for two. He revved the engine, debated what to do, and then turned up the lane towards the start of the urban sprawl. He’d get some air first, blow the anger away. There was something about his bike that soothed him, the power that threatened to burst free, pushing himself to the edge as the tarmac fled below the wheels.

  The machine was warm beneath him when he finally slowed and pulled up, the slight tremor in his muscles replacing the tension of before. He took a deep breath, a mix of rubber, hot oil and fresh air filling his lungs, then pulled his helmet off and ran his fingers through his hair. The early evening air had the same cold tinge that had been there first thing, fingers of ice that stroked along his cheekbones. A sharp chill that snaked inside him with each deep breath, that made him feel alive.

  The houses sprawled out below, a sprinkling of lights high spots in the gloom. He always felt strangely detached when he came up here. He didn’t belong in this place any more, a place he hadn’t managed to walk away from. He hadn’t belonged since that day long ago when the man he had once been proud to call Dad had lit a match and dropped it into a pool of petrol.

  In one night it had all gone, filtered into the universe. His favourite CD’s, music player, best shirt, the football programme from when he’d been to Wembley. Every bit of crap that shouldn’t have mattered. Including his roots. His parents. And now he didn’t own anything. Or anyone.

  But, with Rowena he’d found a kind of home. A non-demanding bolt hole that he could walk away from at any time. Except today he’d discovered he wasn’t ready to walk. And it wasn’t just because Georgina bloody Hampton had riled him. He owed it to Rowena to stick things out, they supported each other. She knew she had someone to call on if there was a problem. She might come over all tough, but he knew she was feeling her age, feeling exposed miles from the nearest neighbours. Yes, she had friends, lot of friends, but she was too proud to admit when things were getting tough. And he noticed when a fence got broken, saw when her gutters were blocked. He owed her for the past and he wasn’t about to walk away now and abandon her.

  And he liked the place, and the horses.

  He felt the smile tease at his mouth and suddenly realised he’d completely relaxed. It could be fun having a head to head with Georgie. There were brief moments when he saw the insecurity she used to have at school, the guarded expression, the complete lack of awareness of how she affected him. But now there was something else thrown into the mix, the confidence borne of money, the challenge she seemed to be throwing out at the world. Georgie didn’t know who she was, didn’t know what she wanted, but the aura of inhibition that had once cloaked her had gone. The grown up Georgie had a wild side, and he quite liked the idea of exploring it a bit.

  A chuckle tickled deep down in his chest. She’d been throwing out a challenge to him at every opportunity, and she’d also been throwing out an invite. And he liked the idea of both. Georgie wanted a fight and she wanted fun, and he was going to be more than happy to supply both. She wouldn’t know what had hit her protected little world.

  There was more of a chill in the air than was welcome now and he didn’t need to look at his watch to know he’d been sat for longer than he should. He started the bike up, but when he revved it this time, it was just to feel the pull, the roar of contained power. He fastened the jacket at the collar, shutting out the cold air and set off back down to the town towards a pint of beer that had his name on.

  ***

  “Thought you were giving us a miss?”

  “Heard there was a girl on the scene.”

  He ignored the comments and signalled the bar man for a pint, then raised the glass to his two oldest mates. “A right comedy double act you two are getting to be.”

  “Well?” Steve was cradling his own glass and waiting. “The girl?”

  Jake raised an eyebrow. “Now who told you
that?”

  “There’s a rumour going round town that you had her on your bike you dirty dog.” Andy had joined in. “Wanted a bit of your throbbing machine did she?” Both men laughed.

  The three of them went back years, long enough to say what they liked, half in jest, half serious. They drank together, went to football matches together, even occasionally did dating together. Though Andy always said that taking Jake anywhere was a mistake, because he was never serious about the woman he had with him, and the other women were always eyeing him up like they wouldn’t say no. It shouldn’t have been good for their egos, except they all knew the rules, all played fair.

  “She wanted,” Jake let the cool beer slip down his throat. Smooth, mellow, just what he needed, “a trip down memory lane I think.”

  “She’s an ex? I’ve never seen you with her before, you kept that one quiet.”

  “Remember mousy Georgina Hampton at school?”

  Steve shook his head. “Nope.”

  “The swotty one who did your homework?”

  Andy laughed again. “They all did his homework at some time or another.”

  It was obviously just him that remembered. The quiet girl who had studied them, that dark gaze darting away whenever he caught her in the act.

  “You mean that one whose dad was a governor?”

  “That’s the one.” Jake drained the rest of his pint.

  “Don’t remember her looking like that.”

  “Nope.”

  “Not turned out as frigid as she used to be then?”

  “Nope.” He took the fresh pint that Andy held out. Strange thing was, she never had looked frigid to him. Shy, vulnerable, beautiful in an almost other-worldly way. Once or twice he’d hesitated, almost spoken to her, almost asked her what she was thinking about. But girls like her didn’t need guys like him. And guys like him didn’t ask questions like that.

  “Fancy introducing us when you get fed up with her? Hey, did you see that goal?” They all looked up at the widescreen TV at the side of the bar. “What a corker.” All eyes trained on the replay and talk turned to football and work, and when Jake was going to stop pissing about with horses and get a proper job. And how Andy was going to cope with fatherhood.

  He’d been the first of them to go steady, the first to propose, and the first to get a mortgage. Jake was happy for him. It wasn’t his bag, but he knew that his mate was content. For some people a home to go to, a family, steady income, nice car meant that life was good. But not for him. If you didn’t wake up to the same thing every day, then you had nothing to miss when it went, did you?

  “So, you seeing the school swot again?”

  “Well, yes actually. She’s going to work for me.”

  “You’re kidding.” Both men stopped drinking and stared. “Why the hell would she want to do that? Is she desperate?” Steve’s baritone chuckle stopped the bar noise dead.

  “Maybe she’s after some more bike action.” He made a revving up gesture.

  Andy frowned. “She looked hot. You sure it was the same girl?”

  Jake felt the tremble of his phone vibrating in his pocket, fished it out. A text. ‘A gentleman never talks about his shags.’ Some instinct told him which way to look, across the bar and she was there. On the far side, with the girl he recognised from the shoot. Sipping a cocktail. In the pub. He shook his head. Bloody cocktails got everywhere. Fancy, expensive and dangerous. Like her.

  He slid his gaze back to Steve, and grinned. “Oh, I’m sure.” With slow deliberation typed in a reply to the text. ‘Who said I was a gentleman?’ And he could have sworn he saw a flush creep along her high cheekbones, even at this distance in the dim light of the bar. He winked, then slid the phone back in his pocket. “Same girl.”

  “Oh well, happy shagging, mate. Right let’s get one more in before last orders shall we?”

  “I’m up for it.” He glanced over again, caught her watching, but this time she didn’t glance away. This time she stared back, and the slow smile that spread over her face could have been a promise or a threat.

  Chapter Five

  “I’ve been thinking.” Georgie had done a lot of thinking last night after she’d spoken to Rowena. About the land, Jake’s accusations. Bumping into him out of the blue. Yes, she was determined, yes, she could be defiant, ignore advice. But she didn’t trick people, use them for her own means. She hadn’t sought him out. It had just happened. She hadn’t even meant to come back here…

  “Dangerous.”

  She shot him a look and carried on talking. “The Drovers is more your style isn’t it?”

  “Meaning?”

  “Well, it’s just where you and your mates hang out. So, what were you doing at the club the other night?”

  “You mean the type of place where you and your mates hang out?” Jake straightened the haynet and took his time before he looked her way, but he didn’t seem needled by the comment.

  “Whatever.”

  “I wasn’t at the club.” He held up a hand to stop her objection. “I was parked in the car park.”

  “You were mad at something weren’t you? What?”

  He shook his head slowly, a rueful grin accompanying the gesture. “Have you come here to work or talk?”

  Look, she could have added. He was good to look at. “You always do that macho burning rubber thing when you’re mad don’t you?” And you were doing it again last night.

  “I’ll do a macho something if you don’t stop trying to wind me up.”

  “Ooo, sounds good. Promises, promises.”

  A wry smile teased at the corner of his mouth as he picked up a body brush and curry comb and started a methodical sweep over the mare. Georgie tried not to lick her lips, glad that he seemed immune to the cold and still had on a tight t-shirt, the muscles in his arms stretching and tightening with each firm stroke of the brush.

  “Should I be the one doing that?”

  “You’re doing the next bit.” Another firm stroke, then the short jab of soft brush against metal. “Yup, you’re right. I was angry, when I met you.” A ripple of muscles as the brush came down again on the already shining coat. “I’d spent all frigging day with a colicky horse and we had to let it go. Why do people keep animals if they’re going to do that to them?”

  “What? What caused it?”

  He was putting his whole body behind each stroke with a barely contained frustration. “It was a bag of bones, someone had dumped it in the bottom paddock because they couldn’t even be arsed to give it a decent end.” He didn’t say anything for a moment, kept up the steady brush and scrape in silence. “It was scared stiff and in agony, but the poor sod let us catch it and walk it round.” He moved on silent feet to the other side of the mare and Georgie watched the expression on his face as he worked. “Sand colic the vet thought, or bloody worms.”

  “Maybe someone couldn’t afford to keep it.”

  He glared. “It was well bred, a pretty little thing.” He wiped his forearm across his brow and straightened, staring at her for a moment. “More like the kids had got fed up and left it stuck on a bare paddock all summer eating dirt.”

  Ah, yeah, kids like her. He threw the body brush in her direction and fished a comb out of his pocket. “So, yeah you could say I had a bit of a mood on.”

  “A bit?” She raised an eyebrow at him, willing the mood to pass.

  “You know what pisses me off most?”

  “Nope. But I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”

  “People,” she could hear the silent ‘like you’, “who are so fucking well off they forget how to appreciate what they’ve got.” The mare stamped a foot and swished her tail and he ran his hand over her quarters. Slow, soothing. She knew how that hand felt.

  “So, what was your excuse?”

  She knew what he meant. He’d been mad, needed to let off steam and she’d been there, willing and able. Well, practically begging. “No reason, I just fancied a fuck.”

  “Not very ladyl
ike.”

  “I like alliteration.” And she’d liked the look of him. If she was honest it had been a mix of adrenalin, fear from being threatened and a sudden need that had hit her when he’d stood like the great protector, a black knight who could banish every memory of the type of evening that needed erasing. You didn’t often come across those in a car park. Anywhere.

  He was everything the drunken Seb hadn’t been. Big, strong, fit and hard with a take it or leave it attitude, and he hadn’t cared less who she was or what she had. And he had a motorbike.

  “Apparently this horse won’t stand still long enough for her ladyship to clamber on, then won’t stop.” He stroked a hand down the long elegant bay nose before slipping the bridle on and she made a concerted effort to snap out of motorbike thoughts.

  “And?”

  “And I’m too heavy for her. So you’re going to do it.”

  She’d walked straight into that one hadn’t she? For all his defensive crap, Jake mustn’t have been able to believe his luck when she’d walked onto the yard and practically waved an ‘I’ll do anything’ sign at him. “And the no stopping bit?”

  “Well we both know she will eventually, don’t we? But she stops fine when I long rein her.” He tightened the girth a notch and nodded to Georgie to open the stable door.

  “I haven’t got a proper school, so I wouldn’t fall off if I were you, that paddock’s still hard.”

  “Gee, ta for the advice. What did you mean yesterday, when you said about it being in your blood? The horses?”

  “You can’t escape who you are.” The horse stood quietly as he checked the tack over, adjusted the stirrups, and cinched the girth up a final hole. From the tight lips he obviously wasn’t saying any more on the matter. But she’d find out. Later.

  “She flinched when you did that. Maybe she’s just cold backed.”

  “Maybe she’s had a crap rider. Here,” he waved her over, “I’ll give you a leg up and keep her on the lunge.”