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I tip my head back and laugh loud. “Who do I call?”
The sight of Elliot Miles running down the pathway with a bunch of ducks chasing him is simply too much and I nearly fall over as I laugh hard.
“This isn’t fucking funny, Kathryn,” he yells, and he kicks out to try and move them and they squawk louder. “Fuck off, ducks!”
Chapter 17
“Hello Brianna,” Elliot barks as he paces back and forth. “We have a problem.”
I listen as I sit on a stool at the kitchen countertop.
“Ducks. That’s what.” He listens. “Well, they attacked me.” He listens for a moment. “Feral ducks.”
My face breaks into a broad smile. After fifteen minutes of running around like a maniac, Elliot closed the doors and the ducks have retreated back to their lake.
Elliot frowns as he listens. “No. What clause, I never agreed to any such clause.” His horrified eyes meet mine.
“What?” I mouth.
He shakes his head. “Well . . . I don’t want them.”
He listens again.
“Since when would the sale of a house have animals in the contract? That’s preposterous.” He walks to the window and peers out over the field. “A goat?” he snaps. His eyes meet mine and I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from smiling. “A fucking what?” he explodes. “A pony and a pig? No way. Not on your life. Come and take them away. Right. Now.”
He shakes his head in disgust.
“Who the hell do I sell them to?” he fires back. “This isn’t Jack and the Beanstalk, Brianna, you don’t go to fucking market to sell a pig.”
I burst out laughing, Elliot glares at me, and I slap my hand over my mouth.
“What do you mean?” He paces again, looks out the window and down at the paddock, then his eyes meet mine. “Well . . . you better find out.” He listens intently. “Fine.” He hangs up.
“What happened?” I ask.
“Apparently the woman who I bought the house off was eighty-eight and has a menagerie of animals. It was a condition of sale that the new purchaser keeps them on because she’s gone to a retirement community.”
My eyes widen. “Oh.”
“She’s finding out what I can do with them.”
My face falls. “Why?”
“I don’t want farm animals, Kathryn, I’m not Old McFucking Donald.”
“It’s a settling-in period, they’ll calm down.”
“Absolutely not.”
I walk to the back door and look out over the paddocks. The ducks are pecking away at the ground next to the lake. “They’re probably just hungry.”
“For human blood?” He grabs his keys. “I’m telling you now, it won’t be mine. We need to go and find breakfast before I faint.” He takes my hand in his. “Let’s go.”
Two hours later we pull up outside the front of my house. “Thanks.” I smile.
Elliot rolls his lips as he looks at my house, and I know he’s not happy about me going inside to Daniel. “What are you going to do all weekend?” I ask.
“Unpack a million boxes.”
I can help . . . No, play it cool.
“Okay, well, have fun with that.” I smile.
“What are you doing?” he asks as he slides his hand up my thigh; I lean over and kiss his shoulder.
“This afternoon I’m cleaning my house and then tonight I’m having dinner with my brother.”
“Okay. Have fun.”
We stare at each other and I smile shyly. Elliot Miles makes me feel like a schoolgirl; the earth spins fast and I’m giddy.
“I’ll give you a call?” he says.
“Okay.” I lean over and kiss him and his lips linger over mine.
I hate saying goodbye to this man.
Our kiss deepens and he smiles against my lips. “Stop it or I’ll drag you back to my place to play Old McDonald.”
I giggle and open the car door, get out, and lean in the open window. “Good luck with your ducks.”
He rolls his eyes. “Don’t remind me.”
“What are you going to do?”
He shrugs. “Wait for the damn real estate agent to call me back.”
“Okay, good luck.” I give him a wave. “Bye.”
With a smile and a wave, he pulls out and drives away.
ELLIOT
I pull up at the valet area in the underground parking lot and get out of my car.
“Nice to see you, Mr. Miles.”
“Hello Raymond.” I smile. “Is my brother in?”
“I believe so.”
I hand my car keys over and take the elevator to his floor, get out at the private reception area, and ring the bell. I hear it let out an internal buzz and I wait, noticing a new painting which I inspect closely. “Hmm, average,” I mutter under my breath.
The door opens and a disheveled-looking Christopher comes into view, wearing only boxer shorts. He frowns. “Hey.”
I smile and rock up onto my toes. “Hi.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Picking you up, get dressed.”
“Now isn’t a good time—”
I cut him off as I barge past him into his apartment, and come face to face with a beautiful brunette lying on the couch in only a T-shirt. “Oh.” I wince and turn to Christopher. “Sorry to . . . interrupt.”
