Page 29 of Rough Around the Hedges

That gnarly old bastard. I knew he’d haunt me one day.

Of all his complaints about Oliver, he’d never once mentioned that he sought to sell the land the allotments were situated on.

Rupert Hanbury was many things, but above all, he was an ardent supporter of community and the outdoors.

He would never, ever stand for the allotments being sold to someone else for housing.

Which was why I wanted to march on down to the cemetery and kick his headstone for not warning me about this potential development.

I bet he’d done it deliberately, the snide old git. He was probably up in the clouds right now with a whiskey in one hand, pointing at me as he laughed hysterically, just like that bloody Leo DiCaprio meme.

I sighed.

My time was up.

I had to leave now.

Ugh.

It was never comfortable to accidentally run into someone you’d slept with, but this wasn’t just going to be a nightmare.

Constantly having to face Oliver would probably breed a new sleep paralysis demon.

I grabbed my bag and hopped out of the van. It was fine. I could do this. I was a professional, and I was here in my capacity aschairman, thank you very much.

Did it really matter if I’d seen the man naked? Or that he’d seen me naked? Or that more than one part of his body had been inside me at one point?

No.

No, it did not.

Ha.

Ha…

All right.

It totally did. It mattered. It wasn’t as though I could walk in here and forget the time we’d spent together. I was only human, after all, and I was a thirsty one at that.

And boy, oh boy, Oliver de Havilland was a tall glass of ice water if ever there was one.

Shame he was a life-ruining bastard.

I got out of the van and walked up to the huge front doors. If I were the type to be intimidated by anything, these doors might just do it.

Fortunately, the only thing that’d ever intimidated me was my mother.

I rapped the brass knocker and pinged the doorbell a couple of times for good measure. There was always someone standing nearby to open the door, but that was my calling card, so all the household staff would know it was me.

You know, because the bright yellow van wasn’t enough of an announcement.

The hinges creaked as the door opened, and Bruce glared at me through the little gap. “State your name and business.”

“The Grim Reaper, here to haunt your master,” I replied. “I left my scythe in the van for security reasons.”

“I’m sorry, there’s nobody who goes by the name ‘Grim Reaper’ on the appointment list for today.”

I sniffed. “This isn’t very professional of you, old man. Don’t you know who I am?”

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