Текст книги "This Man"

Автор книги: Jodi Ellen Malpas

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 32 страниц)

‘Fucking hell!’ I curse under my breath, spinning round and finding Jesse – still naked, looking really rather angry. What the hell has he got to be angry about? It riles me instantly.

‘Mouth!’ he growls at me on a scowl.

He’s really mad. Well, so am I. With myself! I scoop my bag up and head for his bathroom, collecting my discarded clothes on my way. ‘Can I use your shower?’

‘No!’ he snaps.

I laugh. ‘Don’t be a child, Jesse.’ My tone is condescending, and I give him an extra wide berth, passing him swiftly on my way back to the bedroom. I need not to be touching him.

I go to shut the door, but he slams his shoulder into it, all but barging in behind me. I make a point of glaring at him before I move away to turn the shower on. Is he mad about my crazy pillow talk? I can’t blame him. I’m pretty mad with myself. He’s absolutely right; I should keep quiet during sex. Come to think of it, so should he. He said some pretty crazy shit too.

I dig through my bag to get yesterday’s t-shirt, drop my flip flops to the tiled floor, throw my make-up bag by the sink and brush my teeth, and the whole time, Jesse stands there festering.

When the room is full of steam, I drop the towel, totally brazen – I’m pissed, I couldn’t give a flying fuck – open the shower door and get in to wash off four rounds of Jesse Ward. If I wasn’t so sticky, with sweat and cum all over me, I wouldn’t bother. I would be gone already.

The water is divine and relaxing, despite my scowling spectator, as I wash my hair, letting the water fall over me for the briefest of moments. But I’ve not got time to take full advantage of the soothing water. I open my eyes and the shower door is flung open, the cool air attacking my wet, naked body. Jesse is snarling at me.

‘You’re not going anywhere!’ he barks.

I look at him, completely exasperated, my jaw hitting the shower tray. He’s made the most of me while I’ve been here. Is he still not happy? ‘Yes, I bloody am!’

‘No, you’re not!’

‘Jesse, what’s your problem?’ I’m stood in the shower, hot water pounding me, cold air blasting me, and facing a brooding hunk of a male.

‘YOU!’ he yells.

‘Me?’

Oh, the man has a nerve. I turn the water off and push my way past his big body, ignoring the sparks that fly off of me from the contact. Does he think I’m an object he can fuck at will and order about? I wrap a towel around me, flinging one on my head, roughing it all over to expel the water. I’ve not got time to dry it, and I doubt Mr Unreasonable here has a hairdryer.

I feel his hand wrap around the top of my arm. I brusquely yank it out of his grasp, carrying on with getting my underwear, jeans and top on.

‘I don’t want you to leave.’ His voice has softened.

‘Don’t be stupid, Jesse. You can’t keep me here as a sex slave. You’ve got many willing women falling at your feet, go and busy yourself with one of them.’ I can’t believe how harsh I sound. The thought of him with another woman makes me want to attack.

I catch his eyes in the mirror. They are narrowed right on me, burning my skin. ‘I don’t want other women. I want you.’

I pause, mid cream application. ‘Haven’t you had me enough?’ I ask, a massive part of me wanting him to say no, but knowing it’s only going to end badly if he does.

He reaches up, brushing his knuckles down my cheek. I unconsciously nuzzle into it, closing my eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says softly. He wraps his spare arm around my waist, pulling me to his chest, resting his lips against my ear. ‘Forgive me.’

Oh God, what am I doing? This man is a magnet. He sucks all rationality right out of me. I turn my face to his, letting him take my mouth gently and hesitantly, his hand moving from my cheek to the back of my head, his fingers threading through my wet hair. He strokes my tongue and skims my lips worshipfully. I’m lost in him again – completely lost.

He releases my mouth. ‘That’s better.’ He plants a chaste kiss on my nose. ‘Do you still want a ride?’

I raise my eyebrows on a grin. ‘To my car?’

He presses his lips to mine and hums. ‘Cheeky. Give me ten minutes.’ He turns the shower back on and grabs a fresh towel from the warmer.

‘Can I get some water?’ I ask.

‘Knock yourself out, baby.’ He slaps my bum and jumps in the shower.

Chapter 13

 

I’m on my knees, gingerly plucking up pieces of glass from the kitchen floor, when Jesse strolls in from the bedroom. I glance up. Oh, that gait of his. He rocks up to me wearing heavy, beige board shorts, a white Ralph Lauren Polo shirt – collar turned up – and blue converse. The blonde hairs on his muscled legs are bleached, highlighted by his slight tan. He’s not shaved, but his blonde stubble doesn’t conceal his handsome features. I’m on my knees, lips parted, looking deprived. He stops in front of me, looking down with a grin on his face. He looks younger.

‘I’m afraid you have me at a disadvantage.’ I tease.

His eyes sparkle with delight as he squats in front of me. ‘It would seem your disadvantage would be my complete advantage.’ he winks.

I want to jump him, but with a hand full of glass shards, us both fully dressed and late, I shall resist.

‘Here,’ He holds both his hands out in front of him for me to transfer the glass. ‘You should have left it, you could have cut yourself.’ he moans at me. I tip the glass into his palms and heave myself up from the floor, while he empties his hands, tipping the glass into the sink. ‘I’ll sort it later.’ He slips his Wayfarer’s on, collects his keys and my bags, before grabbing my hand to lead me to the door.

‘Are you working today?’ I ask.

‘No, not much goes on at The Manor during the day.’ He winks at me. I melt. He’s all roguish, and I love it.

He opens the door and we’re immediately met by a couple of scruffy looking men with clipboards, wearing blue overalls. The embroidered print on their uniforms reads, “B&C Removals”.

‘Mr Ward?’ The one that looks like a trucker asks, his yellow teeth indicating at least fifty cigarettes and twenty cups of coffee a day.

‘The boxes in the spare room go first. My housekeeper will be here shortly to assist with the rest.’ He pulls me through the corridor, leaving the trucker type and his lanky apprentice to get on with things. ‘Be careful with the ski and bike equipment.’ he yells behind him.

‘You have a housekeeper?’ I ask, completely stunned. I don’t know why. The man’s brought the penthouse at Lusso for a cool ten million. Why is this only just sinking in? He’s really rich.

‘She’s the only woman I couldn’t live without,’ he replies flippantly. ‘She’s off to Ireland next week to visit her family. It’ll all fall apart then.’

I make it to my car in record time, after Jesse dipped and weaved through the early morning traffic. Fellow drivers seem to be more accommodating to an Aston Martin and a few hand gestures. He loads my bags into the back of my car, while I check my phone. Ten past eight. Okay, I’m late. I fire a quick text to Kate to tell her I’m on my way and look up, finding him staring at me. Even through his Wayfarer’s – which he looks tremendous in – I can feel that potent, green gaze blazing my skin.

I open the driver’s door of my Mini, jump in and start the engine. Jesse is crouched down by my side before I can close the door.

‘I’ll take you for lunch.’ he informs me.

‘I told you, I’ve got stacks to get done.’ I’m not being sidetracked by roguish Jesse, although he is very distracting.

‘Dinner then,’

‘I’ll ring you later.’ I’ve spent the whole night with him, he’s fucked me into oblivion, and I need some recovery time.

His shoulders sag and he scowls heavily. ‘Are you refusing me?’

‘No, I’ll call you later.’ I say on a frown.

‘Fine,’ he snaps. ‘Make sure you do.’ He leans in, resting his palm on my jean clad thigh, and plants a deliberately scorching hot kiss on my lips. He knows what he’s doing. He pulls back, leaving me slightly breathless. ‘I’ll wait for your call.’ he says, strolling away, enhancing that bloody gait. That was a look-what-your-missing kiss. It worked.

‘How old are you, Jesse?’ I shout after him.

He turns, walking backwards with a fraction of a grin tickling his lips. ‘Twenty four,’

I drop my shoulders, exhaling a long, exhausted breath. ‘How many times have I got to ask you before we get to your real age?’

‘Quite a few, lady.’ He lifts his glasses up a touch and winks before turning away and resuming sexy stride. Everything this man does is effortless and sexy as hell, the way he carries himself, all confident and virile. It’s no wonder women fall at his feet. He’s sex personified. And I can more than vouch for that.

The engine rumbles to life and he roars off like a teenage rally driver. Maybe he is twenty four. He certainly acts it sometimes.

I fly through the front door and up the stairs, finding Kate drying her hair on the landing. She looks flustered, which means she’s running late. When she spots me, she turns the dryer off and grins from ear to ear. I know I’m blushing from head to toe. It’s not going to help me if I choose to go on the defensive.

‘Good night?’ she asks on an arched brow. She doesn’t seem in much of a rush now. Her eyes are dancing in delight, and I can’t help the smile breaking out across my own face.

‘It was okay.’ I shrug, reflexively grabbing a tendril of hair. What an understatement. Try mind-blowing, drop dead worthy.

‘Ha!’ she cries. ‘Do tell.’ She bats my twiddling fingers away from my hair, looking at me expectedly.

‘Yeah, he’s a God. I can’t lie to you. He’s the new owner of the penthouse.’

‘Fuck off! He’s delicious and super rich!’

Yes, it would seem so. ‘Weren’t you worried about me? I left a message on your phone.’ I can’t believe she’s not been worried about me.

‘I’ve not checked my phone. Anyway, the way he was looking at you, the only thing I was worried about was you not being able to walk this morning,’ She starts laughing as she chucks her dryer on the floor and makes her way into her super tidy bedroom. ‘And, if I’m not mistaken, there’s a limp.’ she calls back.

I am a bit sore, actually. Four rounds of Jesse Ward has taken its toll on my body.

I follow her in, flopping on her perfectly made bed. ‘Jesus, Kate. The man has experience.’ That sudden thought reminds me of all the many conquests that would have come before me. I screw my face up in disgust.

‘You wanted uncomplicated fun. It looks like you’ve got it. High five!’ She air slaps me and leaves the room. ‘And there’s no girlfriend?’

Did I want uncomplicated fun? Will this be uncomplicated fun? ‘No, but she wants him. I’ve worked that much out.’

‘Oh well, unlucky for her. I’ve got to beat feet. I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon. What are you up to while I’m gone?’

I roll off her bed and smooth the covers before leaving her immaculate room, shutting the door behind me. ‘I’m going to sort my stuff out.  Have we got any bin bags?’

‘Hurrah! They’re under the sink,’ She grabs her bag from the top of the stairs and makes her way down to the door. ‘You’re more than welcome to borrow Margo.’

Is she kidding me? I’d have to complete a ten month leg muscle workout programme to build up the strength to use that clutch. I’ve got cramp just thinking about it. ‘I’m not going anywhere. Drive safe.’

By six o’clock, I’m sat in the middle of my room surrounded by bin bags. I’ve been brutal. Clearly, my last sort out was half-hearted because I’ve accumulated four sacks of clothes for the charity shop. If I’ve not worn it in the last six months, then it’s in one of those four bags. All of my remaining clothes have been washed and ironed, and are now folded neatly in an organised manner. I feel cleansed. I empty my waste paper basket into a rubbish sack. The calla lily that Jesse gave me tumbles out. It’s all shriveled and discoloured. I should have put it in some water, but back then, I didn’t plan on seeing the man again. I wanted to forget about him. Impossible. I smile to myself, tying the sack and carting it out to the bin.

I collapse on the sofa with a bottle of wine and a family size bar of chocolate to catch up on Saturday night, crappy television.

A few hours later, I’m staring at the last cube of chocolate and feeling slightly nauseous. I really need to start buying a regular size. I pop it in and chomp lazily as I flick the channels repeatedly.

The sound of my phone drags me from the sofa, my heart giving a little skip. It could be Jesse. I groan. It’s Matt. What does he want? It’s Saturday night and he’s newly single to do what he pleases. Not that our relationship ever stopped him from doing exactly that anyway.

‘Hello?’

‘Ava, you okay?’ He doesn’t sound drunk.

‘Yeah, are you?’ What does he want?

‘Good, how did yesterday go?’

My wine glass halts on its way to my lips. Why do I feel interrogated all of a sudden? It’s just a friendly question. What should I say? I had sex in the penthouse with the new owner; I went home with him; he fucked me up the arse; he’s older, I’m not sure how much older, but an absolute Adonis; I can’t walk properly today…

‘Really good, thanks.’ I say instead.

‘Great,’ he chirps, but then there’s a long pause.

Why all the sudden interest in my career? When I told him that I’d won the Lusso contract, he’d asked me what I’d done for dinner. I hear him draw breath.

‘Ava, do you fancy lunch on Tuesday?’ He doesn’t sound right. He sounds all nervous and timid, not the usual conceited, sure Matt that I know. What’s he doing in on a Saturday night?

‘Sure, is everything okay?’

‘Not really. I’ll speak to you Tuesday, yeah?’

‘Okay.’ I reply hesitantly. I hope nothing dreadful has happened.

‘I’ll meet you at Baroque at one o’clock. Is that okay?’

‘Of course, I’ll see you then.’ I hang up. He really doesn’t sound good. He might be an arrogant, cheating rat, and I might be well shot of him, but you don’t just stop caring.

I flick the television off and take myself to my newly cleansed bedroom, retreating hastily under my duvet. I’m completely whacked. Being tucked up in bed at this time on a Saturday night is new territory for me these days, but after my recent exertions, the sleep is most welcome.

***

I come awake to music and stretch in my bed. It’s a lovely satisfied stretch that tells me I’ve had a very restful sleep. I sit up. What is that? It takes a while for my brain to kick into awake mode, but when it’s does, I can still hear music. I brush my hair from my face. The music stops.

Huh? Is Kate back already? I glance at my clock. Nine o’clock? Christ, I’ve not slept this late in years. I flop back on my pillow with a smile. It would seem that Jesse Ward is good for my sex life and my sleep.

There’s that music again. The familiar sound of Noel Gallagher’s Sunday Morning Call penetrates my ear drums. I love that track. I frown, reaching for my phone and see Jesse’s name flashing on the screen. I smile as I connect the call.

‘How did you do that?’ My voice is husky from sleep.

‘Do what?’ he asks. I can’t see him, but I know he’s grinning that cocky, sexy grin.

‘You rigged my phone.’ I accuse.

‘Where are you?’

‘In bed.’ Recovering from you!

‘Naked?’ he asks – all low and husky.

Oh no! I’m not getting into sleazy phone sex. I know where this is going. His voice does things to me. ‘No, I’m not.’

‘I could remedy that.’

I shudder at the thought. How can he spark such reactions by being on the end of the phone? ‘How’s your new apartment?’ I need to change the direction of conversation quickly.

‘Full of Italian shit.’

‘Funny. Where are you?’

He sighs. ‘At The Manor, you said you would call.’ He sounds slighted.

Yes, I did say I would call, but it’s only been twenty four hours – ish, and I’m majorly uncomfortable with the fact that I really, really wanted to call him.

‘I got carried away sorting my room out.’ I did. And it’s a good job done. I’m ignoring the fact that I purposely kept myself busy.

‘What are you doing today? I want to see you.’

What? Just like that? Christ, hasn’t he had enough of me? Obviously not, but is this a good Idea? Damn, I want to see him. I’m much too young for him. And I wouldn’t trust him as far as I can throw him. With his looks, confidence and talent in the pleasure department, he’s a sure fire way to a broken heart. I need a reliable, trustworthy man – a man who’ll look after me and walk on hot coals for me. I silently laugh. My expectations are ridiculously high, but given my last two relationships, I’m sticking to the plan. If Jesse wants to see me, it should be on my terms. I can’t be seen to be desperate.

‘No can do,’ I say dismissively. ‘I’m super busy.’ Doing sweet fuck all!  Damn, I want to see him.

‘Busy doing what?’ He’s shocked. Why wouldn’t I be busy? I have a life.

‘All sorts.’

‘Are you fiddling with your hair, by any chance?’ His voice is full of humour.

I pause, mid-twiddle. How has he cottoned on to that? ‘I’ll call you tomorrow.’ I inform him. Will I? I’m just about to hang up when I hear that cold, unfriendly voice I hate so much. What the bloody hell is she doing there? I’m uncomfortable with how uncomfortable that makes me feel. Why should I care?

‘Ava, wait a minute.’ He must cover his phone because the voices become muffled, but it’s definitely her. I bristle all over, which is crazy stupid. ‘Sarah, just give me a second, will you?’ He sounds slightly pissed. ‘Ava, are you there?’

I should just hang up. ‘Yeah,’ Damn me!

‘You’ll call tomorrow.’ he says. It‘s a statement, not a question.

‘I will.’ I hang up quickly. That was not how I wanted to end the conversation. He pretty much told me to call, and I agreed. That is not being on the front foot.

I huff my way out of bed and take myself to the shower. What am I going to do all day, anyway? Kate’s not home and the house is spick and span, as usual. I need something to divert my unreasonable, jealous frame of mind.

Chapter 14

 

‘Fucking hell!’ Kate’s stood in my bedroom doorway, open mouthed and wide eyed. ‘What happened?’

I tuck my black shirt into my capri pants and marvel at how easily I locate my black, suede heels and gold belt. I really am very organised this morning.

‘How’s your Gran?’ I ask, feeding my belt through the loops of my trousers.

‘Still senile. What did you get up to while I was gone?’ She starts plumping a pillow on my bed.

I gesture around the room, with a what-do-you-think look, leaving out the fact that Matt called and I agreed to meet him. Oh, I’ll also omit the Jesse call that resulted in me sulking for the best part of yesterday. How ridiculous!

‘What time did you get back?’ I ask. I’d given up waiting and pigged Kate’s half of the wine after I called and discovered that she was stuck at junction nineteen of the M1.

‘Ten. All of the commuters returning to the city were clogging the roads. I’ll do the train next time. Can I borrow you after work?’

‘Sure, what for?’

‘I’ve got a cake delivery I need some help with.’ she says.

‘No worries. Pick me up from the office at six.’ I grab my black bag from my newly organised bag cupboard and start transferring my things from last week’s bag.

‘Will do, have you heard from the God?’

My head snaps up, and I find Kate grinning from ear to ear as she folds up my bed throw. I narrow my eyes on her before presenting myself to the mirror to put my gloss on.

‘You mean the Lord. He called.’ I disclose casually, popping my lips and catching her reflection. She’s still grinning. ‘What?’ I gasp.

‘Have we established an age?’

I scoff. ‘No, I keep asking and he keeps lying. It’s obviously an issue.’

‘Well, the man’s landed himself a hot bird of twenty six. He probably can’t believe his luck. He’s thirty five, maximum.’

‘He hasn’t landed me. It’s just sex.’ I correct her, rather unconvincingly. I collect my bag, leaving Kate tweaking my bed covers as I head to the kitchen, pour myself some orange juice and take my phone off charge.

Kate waltzes in as I’m feeding myself my pill. She flicks the kettle on. ‘You can’t beat a good screw with an Adonis to get you over a relationship. He’s your rebound fuck.’

I laugh. Yes, that’s exactly what he is. Not that I needed any distractions to get over Matt. That was pretty easy.

‘Correct,’ I agree. ‘I’ll see you after work.’

She leans over the banister as I run down the stairs. ‘Six o’clock!’

It’s a usual Monday morning again, but most unusual is that everyone is here. There’s always at least one of us out of the office on site visits or appointments. I’m in the kitchen with Patrick, filling him in on Mrs Kent’s new house.

‘Have you ever asked her if she would change the theme? It may influence whether it feels like home. It would potentially save Mr K a fortune,’ Patrick laughs. ‘Not that I’m complaining, of course. She can move every year for the rest of her life, for all I care, as long as she keeps contracting you to jazz the place up.’

I frown. ‘Jazz? I do more than jazz the place up, Patrick. I don’t know. She insists on modern everything, but I’m not sure it’s really her thing. I think she gets bored. That or she loves having the workmen around.’ I raise my eyebrows on a laugh.

‘Now, there’s a thought,’ Patrick laughs with me. ‘The old goat is seventy, if a day.  Maybe she should get a toy-boy. God knows, Mr K has plenty on young scrumpet scattered around the globe. I have that straight from a very reliable source.’ He winks at me, and I smile fondly at him.

I know Patrick’s referring to his wife, Irene. If it’s happening in this town, Irene knows about it. She’s a self-confessed busy body, know-it-all and gossip.  If she doesn’t know about it, then it isn’t worth knowing about. I don’t know how Patrick puts up with her. It must be exhausting to be subjected to her oral cavity on a daily basis. Luckily, she only swings by the office once a week before her wash and set.  Nodding and concurring is manageable for the half hour she spends bringing us up to date on her hectic social life, and that of others. I try my very hardest to arrange appointments for a Wednesday around noon, when I know she’ll be in. Patrick is friendly and jolly; I love him. Irene is terrifying; she scares the crap out of me.

‘How is Irene?’  I ask politely. I really don’t care.

He throws his hands up in despair. ‘She drives me insane. The woman has the attention span of a toddler. She’s ditched playing bridge and has now informed me that she’s enrolled in some Kumba dancing nonsense. I can’t keep up with her.’

‘You mean Zumba?’

‘That’s the one,’ He points his chocolate digestive at me. ‘It’s all the rage, apparently.’

I chuckle at the thought of Irene in a leopard print leotard, jigging her over generous rump all over the place.

‘Oh, Van Der Haus wants to meet you on Wednesday,’ Patrick winks. ‘They really want you, flower.’

‘Really?’

He laughs. ‘You’re too modest, my girl. I checked your diary and pencilled in twelve thirty. He’s at the Royal Park. Is that okay?’

‘Absolutely,’ I don’t need to check because Patrick’s already took the liberty of doing that for me. And damn if it isn’t going to get me out of enduring this week’s update from Irene. I push myself away from the kitchen worktop by my bum and head for my desk. ‘I’m going to finalise some drawings and email some contractors.’

His mobile starts ringing. ‘What does she want now?’ I hear him grumble.

As I’m getting ready to run over to the deli to grab some lunch, Tom prances up to my desk. ‘Delivery for Ava!’ he screeches at me, placing a box on my desk.

What’s this? I’m not expecting any catalogues. ‘Thanks, Tom. Did you have a good night on Friday?’

He gasps on a grin. ‘I met the scientist. Oh my, but the man is divine!’

Not as divine as mine! I shake my head in shock at my own wayward thoughts. Where did that come from?

‘So, that would be a yes?’ I confirm.

‘Yes. Tell me who that man was?’ He plants his hands on my desk, leaning in towards me.

‘What man?’ I blurt, far too quickly. I retreat in my chair to get some distance from the interrogating presence of my nosey, gay friend.

‘Your reaction speaks volumes.’ His eyes narrow on me as my face burns up.

‘He’s just a client.’ I shrug.

Tom’s scrutinising stare moves to my fingers that are currently playing with a lock of my hair. I release it, quickly picking up a pen. I need to work on this lying business. I’m truly rubbish at it. His tongue moves into his cheek as he straightens himself and walks away from my desk.

What’s wrong with me? So what! I’ve been fucking a handsome, thirty-something man. Or is it forty-something? He’s my rebound fuck. I yank the box open, finding a single calla lily on top of a book that’s wrapped in tissue paper.

 

‘ Giuseppe Cavalli. 1936-1961’

 

Oh? I open the cover. A note slips out.

Ava,

To me, you are a book I have opened.

I can’t put it down. I need to know more.

Jx

 

Holy shit! What does he want to know? There’s absolutely nothing to know. I’m just a normal mid-twenties girl. He could start with telling me a few things, like how old he is, for a start. Is it normal to send gifts to someone you’re fucking? Maybe it is for a mature man. I don’t have time to think about this at the moment. I’ve got a heap of emails to respond to and furniture deliveries to chase. I throw the book in my bag, pop the lily in my top drawer and dart over to the deli for lunch, before cracking on.

At six o’clock, Margo hisses and bangs up to the pavement to pick me up. I battle with the rusty handle and finally climb in, pushing a dozen cake magazines and empty Starbucks cups to the floor before I can settle myself on the seat.

‘You need a new delivery van.’ I grumble. Considering how crazy tidy Kate is at home, Margo is the pits.

‘Shhhh, you’ll hurt her feelings.’ She grins. ‘Good day?’ She eyes me warily.

My shoulders slump spectacularly. I got zero work done. Instead, I spent all day thinking about a certain stunning creature of an age I don’t know. I get the book and note out of my bag and hand it to her across the van. She takes it from me, uncertainty marring her pretty, pale features, as she opens the front sleeve and the note slips onto her lap. She picks it up, scans the words and gapes at me.

‘I know.’ I say in agreement to her stunned face.

She reads the note again, her gaped mouth closing and turning into a grin. ‘Yikes! The Lord is deep.’ She thrusts the book back at me and pulls into the traffic.

‘He is.’ I start thinking about pillow talk, but just as fast, I stop thinking about pillow talk.

‘Just how good in bed are we talking here?’ Kate asks casually, keeping her eyes on the road.

My head snaps to the side to look at her, but she won’t return my stare. ‘Very.’ I reply. The best, amazing, mind blowing! I want to do it again and again and again!

‘Will this be a pin-ball rebound?’

I sigh. ‘Yes, I think it will. And not just because of the sex.’

She reaches over and squeezes my knee, smiling thoughtfully. She knows what’s happening here.

We slow at the entrance of a residential street, and Kate brings Margo to a stop.

‘Right, get in the back.’ she orders.

‘What?’

‘Get in the back, Ava!’ She reinforces her instructions with a batting of my knee.

‘Why?’ I know I’m frowning heavily. Why on earth does she want me in the back?

She points down the street and realisation dawns on me. I look at her, completely wide eyed.

She has the decency to look a little apologetic. ‘I’ve strapped, padded and cushioned, but this street is a fucking nightmare. That cake took me two weeks to finish. If it goes over, I’m fucked.’

I turn my gaped mouth away from Kate and look down the tree lined street, with parked cars on both sides and room for one line of traffic down the middle. That’s not what’s bothering me, though. It’s the vicious, black, rubber speed humps dotted every twenty yards that have my attention. Oh God, I’m going to be tossed about like a penny in a tumble dryer.

‘Can’t we carry it?’ I ask desperately.

‘It’s five tiers and it weighs a ton. Just hold onto the box. It’ll be fine.’

I exhale, unclipping my seatbelt. ‘I can’t believe you’ve got me doing this,’ I grumble, climbing into the back of the van and wrapping my arms around the tall cake box. ‘Couldn’t you assemble it on site?’

‘Nope,’

‘Why?’

‘I just couldn’t. Hold the fucking cake!’ she yells impatiently.

I tighten my grip, spreading my legs to keep my balance, and lay my cheek against the box. We’re positioned at the mouth of the road, engine revving and looking like something out of a comedy sketch.

‘Ready?’ she calls back.

I hear Margo crunch into gear. ‘Just bloody get on with it, will you?’ I snap. She’s giggling as she slowly starts creeping forward. A car horn starts honking impatiently from behind.

‘Fuck off, you tosser!’ Kate yells as we hit our first speed hump.

I’m propelled into the air, my face squishing against the box, my heels sliding from under me. ‘Kate!’ I screech, landing on my arse.

‘Don’t let go of that box!’

I scramble back to my feet, grabbing the box, just as the back wheels jolt down the other side of the hump. ‘Will you take it easy?’

‘I need a run up, else she won’t make it over!’ she exclaims, hitting another hump.

‘Bloody hell!’ I’m catapulted into the air, landing with an almighty thud. ‘Kate!’

She’s laughing hard now, only serving to piss me off more. ‘Sorry!’ she gasps.

‘No, you’re not.’ I grate, pulling myself up again. I kick my heels off to try and get a better balance.

‘Oh, no,’

I blow my hair out of my face. ‘What?’

‘I’m not reversing mister!’ she hisses.

I spot a Jaguar driving at us and with only enough width for one vehicle and no space to pull in, it’s a standoff. A string of loud car horns start singing out around us as Kate proceeds forward, knocking me all over the place in the back of Margo.

‘I’ll ram you,’ she warns Mr Jaguar, smacking her horn repeatedly. ‘Is the cake okay?’

‘Yes! Don’t you dare let him win,’ I yell, landing on my backside again. ‘Shit!’

‘Hang on, only two more to go.’

‘Oh God!’

Two jolts later and probably another two more bruises on my behind, we’re double parked and unloading the stupid five tier cake. Mr Jaguar is honking, cursing and throwing hand gestures all over the place, but we ignore him. My feet are still bare as I help Kate out with the cake, delivering it into the massive kitchen of Mrs Link, who’s throwing a sweet sixteen for her daughter. I leave Kate to sort the rest and go back to Margo to wait for her, ignoring the car horns as I look for my shoes in the back. They could be anywhere.