Page 29 of Valentine Nook
The kind thing would be to chuck a bucket of mud over them, but she probably wouldn’t appreciate it.
After a second attempt at knocking, it becomes clear she’s not home, so I decide to leave. It was stupid to come here anyway. Unfortunately, that’s the moment she returns.
She doesn’t see me standing on the doorstep as she closes the gate behind her. She’s too busy humming loudly to whatever she’s listening to while trying to open a bottle of water with her teeth. Based on the light sheen coating her skin and the very tight workout pants and sports bra sculpting her body, I’d say she’s come back from a run.
I’ve only ever seen this woman in the skimpiest clothing, and I’m starting to wonder if I’m being tested in some perverseway. Maybe Miles has put her up to this. That would make sense because fuck me if I can’t take my eyes off her.
I rarely have time to watch movies, and I’ve never seen anything starring Holiday Simpson, but I have the sudden urge to go home and binge everything she’s ever made.
I also have about three seconds before she spots me, and it becomes very awkward, so I decide to preempt it.
I wave in her face. “Hello?”
“Bag of dicks,” she screeches, and the bottle flies out of her hand.
I manage to snatch it mid-air before it hits the ground, twist the cap off, and pass it back to her.
“What an extraordinary greeting.”
She’s still staring at me, blue eyes wide with shock, and I feel bad that I startled her, but I’ve also never had this reaction from a woman before.
It’s both confounding and mildly amusing. I could live without the screeching, though, because so far, we’re three for three.
Eventually, she pulls out her earbuds and takes back the water. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” I reply with a smile, hoping I don’t startle her further. But I’m not sure she’s blinked yet. “Are you okay?”
“Is that blood?”
I glance down at my jeans to see that I am indeed covered in the remains of the morning. I hadn’t realized quite how gross they were, and I take a step back.
“Yes, yes, it is. Um . . . we had some calves born this morning.”
“Oh. Cool,” she says, her lips rolling into a straight line, and her head bobs as she takes a long sip of water. My eyes are transfixed on the delicate curve of her neck as she swallows. “So did you come to yell at me some more?”
“No—”
“You’re fixing my roof?”
“Your roof?”
She sidesteps around me and walks to the front door, where she toes off her trainers and lines them up next to the wellies.
“Yeah, the roof. It’s leaking. You know it’s made of straw, right?”
No idea why I glance up to check. “Yes, it’s thatched. But I didn’t know it was leaking.”
“I told Clemmie. She said she’d get it fixed.”
“Ah.” I chuckle, hoping to defuse any impending annoyance. “That’s where you went wrong. Clementine is notoriously forgetful. But I can promise you that I will have it fixed. Where is it leaking?”
Holiday pushes the door open and gestures me inside. “Come in, I’ll show you.”
I try to take a step forward, but it’s like my feet are glued to the ground. It seems the end of the path is the farthest I’m prepared to go. If this house wasn’t part of the village, I’d happily burn it to the ground.
Peering in, however, the dread I was expecting doesn’t materialize.
I know my mother refurbished, but I never paid attention to anything she was doing. Even from my narrowed view of the hallway, it looks completely different.
