Page 13 of The Payback Plan
Paige
Celine Dion or rock?
Bella
Rock!
Paige needed no further encouragement as she Bluetoothed her Spotify account to her portable mini speaker and tapped on a playlist. There was nothing like the dulcet tones of AC/DC in the morning to get up and at ’em.
She grinned to herself as ‘Highway to Hell’ belted out and she increased the volume loud enough possibly to beheardin hell. To that she added the harsh motorised clatter of the high-end electric mixer which looked in pristine condition, like it had never been used.
Which was so very sad.
To rectify that, Paige had spied some local gourmet cream cheese in the fridge which she was currently combining with a seriously amazing artisan chocolate stash she’d found to elevate the basic cupcakes into a mouthwatering divinity. Sadly, there were no sprinkles to add to the top of the final product because hello,sprinkles.Clearly, they weren’t posh enough for the likes of Oliver Prendergast.
It took about two minutes to rouse the sleeping beast.
‘What in God’s name,’ he shouted above the mayhem, ‘is happening right now?’
Paige, who was singing into the spatula as she’d strutted and shimmied in front of the window/IMAX screen, startled. ‘Bloody hell.’ Paige, also shouting, whipped around, clutching her chest. ‘You scared the living daylights out of me.’
‘Consider us even.’ He pointed at the speaker. ‘Can you turn that racket off?’
Now she was recovering from the initial shock, Paige absently noticed he was still in his boxers from earlier when he’d stormed into her room looking as inconveniently hot as he did now. He had a T-shirt on this time though, one that looked old and soft and faded like he’d worn it a thousand times and she wondered how it might feel against her cheek as he cuddled her, warm from his skin and infused with laundry detergent and his deodorant.
The thought made her blink.What the hell?
She knew Oliver Prendergast was a good-looking guy, she’d googled him a lot since that day at the airport and, being a minor celebrity, there were plenty of online images to pore over. But, this veryweirdthought hadn’t come about from his physical attributes and nor had she thought about a man in such warm, snuggly terms for a long time.
Harvey had seen to that.
He’d ruined her ability to let down her guard – to trust – and with that, any chance of feeling attraction. To Paige, the two had always been inextricably entwined.
Ignoring his ruffled, yanked-from-his-bed-by-the-roots-of-his-hair appearance and his piercing blue eyes that were apparently what Roger Prendergast had been known for according to herresearch, Paige quickly killed both the speaker and the beaters. The sudden cessation of noise was almost preternatural against the stormy backdrop.
‘I’m pretty sure you just insulted the musical tastes of several million Australians,’ she murmured, fixing a smile to cover her consternation. ‘Considering they learn how to wrestle snakes and crocodiles before they can walk, it makes you a braver person than I am.’
He seemed unperturbed by her observation as he winced in her direction. ‘Christ.’ He squinted as he took in her retinal frying flares. ‘Those pants should come with a public health warning. You could have someone’s eye out with those.’
Paige supposed she should be insulted but it was hard to be pissed off at a guy who had a blanket crease on his face. And she’d bought them hoping for a reaction, right? Because no way would she normally wear anything this outlandish. Ever since Harvey had violated her privacy and shared those intimate, non-consensual images of her, she’d done everything she could toblend in.
But if her deliberately curated wardrobe was causing Oliver some discomfort then good.Maybe you shouldn’t have jilted a perfectly nice woman at the aisle, you psychopath!
Giving a little twirl, she beamed with every ounce of enthusiasm she could muster. ‘Aren’t they great?’
He looked genuinely puzzled by the question as his gaze drifted north to her T-shirt then further north to her hair which she hadn’t bothered to brush. By the look on his face she figured it was the usual bonkers morning flurry of ginger curls. When his gaze returned to hers, he gestured in her direction.
‘You have a… smudge of cocoa on your cheek.’
Given the level of abandon she’d used when making the cupcakes, Paige was hardly surprised but she feigned it anyway. Rubbing both cheeks with her palms, she dusted her hand down the side seams of her pants. ‘Better?’
As if the wordbetterwas far too euphemistic to describe her appearance, Oliver’s gaze shifted to the war zone that was the kitchen. His wince intensified as he surveyed his formerly pristine space.
Excellent.
‘What the hell?’ he spluttered as he glanced at Paige, his face a picture as he clearly tried to control the rising horror. ‘What onearthare you making?’
‘Snacks.’
