Page 19 of The Duke Who Saved Christmas
I’d been attracted to the damn woman since I was fourteen and woke up with a raging morning glory after she’d infected my dream, and the fact she hated me had made my idiot teenage self even more attracted to her.
It was just a fucking shame she’d grown up to be even more beautiful than she’d been then.
Sylvie glanced up at me with her light blue eyes, and a shimmer of annoyance flitted through her gaze. “I thought you’d have a lackey you could assign this to.”
“And miss out on spending some time in your delightful presence? Never.”
She put her phone in her handbag and gave me a look so withering that not even an ancient oak tree could withstand it. “Gramps would like one hundred kilos of coal, please.”
“Are you taking it, or does he want it delivered?”
“He didn’t say. What does he usually do?”
My lips quirked to one side. “He usually calls and asks us to deliver it.”
Her jaw ticked. “Imagine that,” she said dryly. “Then deliver it, please. Tonight, if you can.”
I nodded. “I can bring it by when I close the farm. About six-thirty?”
“Sure. Can I pay for it now?”
“Yeah, come into the barn, and Mrs. O’Shea will sort you out.”
“She’s still alive?” Sylvie muttered.
I couldn’t help but laugh. It did feel a bit like Mrs. O’Shea was immortal. She’d been around just about as long as anyonein Castleton could remember, and I was pretty sure she was the oldest person in the village.
Not that she’d ever tell you her age.
She said we’d find out when she turned one hundred and got her telegram from Buckingham Palace.
I thought that was fair.
“She’s still alive,” I replied through a quiet chuckle. “And kicking. Believe me. She kicked me just last week.”
“Why? What did you do? Speak without thinking?”
“Not as much as you do,” I retorted. “How’s the wedding planning going?”
“Relatively smoothly. I have a meeting with the florist in…” She checked her watch. “Twenty minutes, so if we can get this done, I’d appreciate it.”
“Ah. Tell my sister-in-law I said hi.”
“Beth is your sister-in-law?” Sylvie raised her eyebrows. “Wait, where is your sister? Didn’t she always used to run the tree farm?”
“In London.” My tone was sharper than it needed to be. “Working.”
“Sorry I asked,” she muttered.
I waved my hand. “Don’t be. Mrs. O’Shea, could you see to Sylvie and book in a coal delivery for six-thirty please?”
Mrs. O’Shea turned around and peered up at us. “Well, I never, Sylvie! Wasn’t expecting to see you this soon!”
Sylvie smiled politely. “It’s good to see you, Mrs. O’Shea. How are you?”
The older woman used her walking stick to help her get up from her chair, and Danny glanced up at us briefly before he turned back to the snowflake decorations he was unboxing and carefully hung another one on the peg.
I ruffled his hair. “You’re doing a great job, buddy.”
