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‘Well, you were rude, but I accept your apology. I do wonder though why you invited her here at all if you think so little of what she does.’
‘No, I don’t.’ He clocked her doubtful expression and doubled down. ‘I can understand why you think that after what I said. But I respect the work she does. I know she’s very good at it. I just don’t want to see my home reduced to content. I don’t like having to stage “real life”, so that people can come here and make-believe my old life for the weekend.’
She nodded. ‘You’re mourning this place too,’ she observed. ‘And I don’t blame you. It’s beautiful. I would have been heartbroken to leave too.’
‘It’s not that it’s beautiful,’ he said, an edge to his voice. ‘That’s the problem. That’s all so
cial media is going to show, and it’s only a fraction of what this place is. What it means to me.’
‘Then tell me. Help me understand.’
‘It’s...it’s where I belong. It’s where my brother belongs. And my sister. And my parents. It’s the place where I feel most like me in the whole world—I thought that it would always be here. Instagram doesn’t care about that.’
‘Then make it care.’
‘And how do I do that?’
‘I don’t know. That’s Lara’s department. But you have an opportunity here. Lara has a huge following. Millions of people view her posts, and you’re the one with the camera. So don’t show them the gloss. Show them what this house means to you. Show them things that no one else would never see because they didn’t know to look for them. Show them what makes this a home, not just another luxury rental.’
He stared at her, and she started to shift uncomfortably. If she’d gone too far, she’d just created an atmosphere in a house that neither of them could escape from. She might as well have gone home for Christmas and put up with an atmosphere she at least knew and understood.
He nodded slowly, and she could see that hint of a smile turn up the corner of his mouth. ‘I think I can do that. I know I can. But I’m going to need your help.’
CHAPTER FOUR
RUFUS LOOKED AT the clock on the kitchen wall again. Five minutes past nine. When he’d said goodnight to Jess last night she’d asked him to give her a shout if she slept past nine—her phone had died, and she couldn’t be sure it would charge overnight, so she couldn’t set an alarm.
He poured two cups of coffee and glanced at the clock again. Why was he hesitating? She’d specifically asked him to wake her, but somehow the thought of taking coffee to her in bed of a morning felt so...intimate. And the thought of sharing something like that with Jess was intimidating. Because he knew there was something between them. It had been obvious from the moment his head had cleared yesterday and he’d found himself sharing the house with a woman who’d dragged him in from the snow, saved his life, and then kept up a steady stream of snark in the hours afterwards. And he’d found it pretty irresistible. Seeing her curled up in the chair by the fire in the study, he had found it hard to hide just how irresistible. But, regardless of what he was feeling, he knew that he wouldn’t act on it.
Some time in the year that his father had been recuperating, he’d decided that he wasn’t going to be responsible for another family. He’d had a go at acting as provider, and he’d messed up, so badly that it had uprooted his entire family from the home that they’d loved for generations. and for what? His ambition? A job that he’d had to leave anyway?
He was at least smart enough to know that he should never be in the position of being responsible for other people’s happiness.
So he was going to knock on her door, deliver strong coffee, and retreat, ideally without making eye contact.
And after that his focus was going to be on his camera, and on showing the world Upton Manor as it was truly meant to be seen.
He carried the coffee up the stairs and across the gallery, listening out for any sound that would indicate that Jess was awake and he was off the hook. But the house was silent, in a way that he never remembered it being before the moving trucks had turned up. He knocked on the door gently and then more loudly, waiting for a shout of ‘I’m up’ from the other side of the door. Which never came.
He opened the door a crack and peered in, but the heavy curtains were pulled across and he could barely see anything in the darkened room. ‘Jess,’ he said, but her name came out as a croak. He called her again, his voice louder this time, pushing open the door to allow more light to spill in.
Jess sat bolt upright in bed with a scream, and Rufus jumped, splashing hot coffee on his chest in the process. He had no choice but to set the cups down on the sideboard just inside the door.
‘Hey, it’s me. It’s Rufus,’ he said as he stepped through the door, holding up his now empty hands. ‘You asked me to wake you up.’
‘I... I did. I’m sorry for screaming; didn’t know where I was for a second. Is that coffee?’
‘Yeah.’ For want of anything better to do, he picked up both the cups, carried them over to the bed and handed one to Jess. She took a long sip, and he winced, knowing just how hot it was.
‘Is it working?’ he asked as she ventured another, more cautious, sip.
‘I do not want to be awake right now.’
‘You know, I’m not sure I would have agreed to this whole wake-up call thing if I’d known you were so aggro in the morning.’
‘Sorry. And thanks. It would only have been worse if I’d slept any later. I owe you one.’
She shifted on the bed and he hesitated, not sure if it was an invitation, but then her head dropped back on the pillows and her eyes drifted closed and he knew he needed to stick around for a bit if she was going to stay awake.
