Page 8 of The Christmas Fayre on Holly Field

Or was she callinghisbluff, seeing how far he’d take it? ‘I’ll go straight there,’ he said, his gaze not leaving hers.

‘Good.’ She nodded.

‘Good,’ he repeated.

They were at a standoff. He supposed he could spare a few weeks. After all, he didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, although he did have to find something to write about on his blog if he was to—

Owen mentally slapped a hand to his forehead. Harriet and her buy-nothing-new-for-three-months challenge was theperfectsubject matter. He could follow her progress, and make a note of what she found easy and what she found difficult about the challenge. Having children and the pressures they brought would add further depth and interest to the story.

But how would she feel about being in the spotlight? He had hundreds of thousands of followers who would be charting her progress with interest.

If he asked her for permission to write about it and she refused, could he, in all conscience, still write it? Probably not.

However, if he didn’t ask and wrote it anyway, Harriet would never know. So where was the harm in it?

Owen, my man, he said to himself,you’re a genius!

Chapter 3

‘What?’ Harriet demanded after Owen left the cafe, conscious that Pen was giving her a look. She watched him climb into a brightly coloured camper van. ‘It’s a good idea. Both for the environment and for my bank balance.’

‘You keep telling yourself that,’ Pen said. She was smirking.

Harriet knew exactly what she meant. ‘He’s not my type. He’s too…’ She couldn’t think of the right word.

‘Passionate?’

‘Intense.’ Harriet glared at her boss.

‘Not bad-looking either,’ Pen added.

‘I didn’t notice.’

‘I don’t believe that. He’s tall, too.’

‘His height is of no concern. I’m not height-ist.’

‘How tall are you?’

‘Five-foot-eight, as you well know.’ Harriet glared down at Pen’s five-foot-three frame.

‘I like a man to be taller than me.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ Harriet shot back. ‘Most menaretaller than you.’

‘A tall man makes you feel safe and protected, don’t you think?’

‘No.’

‘No?’

‘I’m not thinking about it.’

Pen carried on, ‘What about his eyes? He had nice eyes. What colour would you say they were?’

‘Amber,’ Harriet replied, without thinking.

‘Woo-hoo!Amber?And you’re trying to tell me you didn’t take any notice of him?’

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