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I smoothed down the bed and rinsed out my glass in the sink, then made my way down the stairs,keeping to the edge to avoid any creaks. I eased down the front door handle with baited breath, but nobody followed me. Almost to safety, almost…
Until a fake-cheery voice called out agoodmorningfrom the driveway next door. Oh crap.Thatkind of neighbourhood. I turned to face the greeter, and it wasa woman, middle-aged, with a parlour-pretty spaniel ambling around her feet. She was wearing one of those posh fleece jackets, and a spotty neck scarf. Definitely from money. I could have died when she looked me up and down, eyes lingering an age on my horsey socks in stupid heels. Mortification doesn’t even come close. She held up a hand. “Cindy,” she said. “Are you a… relative?”
“Friend,” I said, and my cheeks were burning. Guilty. I don’t even know why I felt guilty, but I did, like I hadsluttattooed on my forehead for the whole world to see.
“Friend, yes…”
And she knew it. She fucking knew it.Gah. I fumbled with the central locking until my car let me in. “Katie. Pleased to meet you,” I lied.
“Yes… you too. I’ll be seeing you?”
I nodded, and smiled, and did this crappy little half shrug before throwing myself into the driver’s seat. I kept the smile on my face while I tossed aside my heels, so desperate to get out of there that I started the car up in nothing but my stupid socks. I cringed afresh when my car rumbled and spluttered and choked loud enough to wake the whole fucking neighbourhood, and pulled away quickly, waving at Cindy like she hadn’t just caught my walk of shame down some bi couple’s driveway at six a.m.
I pulled out of money town and breathed more easily.
I did it. I really fucking did it.
And it was good.
I was good!
Score!
It’s so easy to feel like somekind of sex goddess in the aftermath. That bloom of confidence when you’re at safe distance and assure yourself you’ve got this shit nailed.No big deal. See you around, stud.
But it was a big deal. Big money, big dicks.
Just…big. The whole thing was big.
Crazy fucking big.
I had a glow between my legs and a smile on my face, and a nice big thousand in my bank account and life felt pretty damn sweet. It felt sweeter still when I pulled away from Cheltenham, back towards home turf. I headed straight for Woolhope and the yard, turning off the motorway and making my way back through the countryside. Roads turned to lanes and the sun rose over the horizon, bathing the world in the beautiful light of a fresh day, and the thrum of excitement fizzed its way through me. It never gets old. Never.
I pulled into the yard, crawling the car up past Jack’s house and into my familiar spot at the side of the feed barn. Jack was already out, shifting woodchip from one bin to another.
My stomach did a little lurch at the sight of him. He wasn’t old, mid-fifties at most, but he looked defeated. A haggard old man in the frame of someone in his prime.
He looked as though he was made from the land. A proper farmer type, with a kindly face and weathered hands… and just lately with eyes that roved a little too much.
Lonely. He was just lonely. He didn’t mean it.
He raised an eyebrow as I stepped from the car in just my socks.
“Don’t ask,” I said.
“Wasn’t going to.” He smiled. “Long night?”
“You said you weren’t going to ask.”
“Didn’t ask about the socks, just your night.” His eyes twinkled, and he lit up a cigarette.
“Had a date,” I said. “It went… well.”
“So where is he?” he said. “Not well enough that he’s coming to meet your boy?”
“Nah,” I grinned. “Nobody’s meeting Samson until it’s serious. He doesn’t need a string of stepdaddies at his stable door.” I fished my boots from the back of the car, and Jack closed the distance.
His expression was heavy, and it made my heart drop. “Bank’s been on at me again.”
