12 Days At Silver Bells House Read online

  ‘Well, if you’re not prepared to help yourself, there’s only one way out.’

  Kate looked around, searching for stepping stones or planks of wood to use as a bridge. ‘Which way?’ she asked.

  ‘Over my shoulder.’

  In a swift, heave-ho manner, he put one hand to the top of the stone wall and leapt over it. Mud splattered up his work boots and onto his khaki-trousered legs.

  Oh, good heavens. He was enormous. She teetered on the door frame, and grabbed the roof of the car to steady herself.

  ‘You drive in those things?’ he asked, pointing at her eggshell-coloured sling-back stilettos.

  Kate nodded. ‘Automatic car,’ she told him. ‘More difficult in a manual, but not impossible for the most tenacious of women.’ Like herself. So let that be a lesson, Mr Bigger & Bigger. Try driving your digger in four-inch heels.

  He shook his head and squelched towards her. ‘Madness.’

  The man did a lot of muttering. But he was about to rescue her so Kate kept her mouth closed until she remembered she was alone. In a paddock. With a strange man.

  ‘Okay,’ he said, holding his arms out and beckoning her with his fingers. ‘Come on.’

  He wanted her to leap over his shoulder? Just like that? Without an introduction?

  ‘Wait.’

  He dropped his arms to his sides and looked at her.

  Kate looked at his face. She’d recognise barbed and ugly if she saw it in his gaze. She’d seen sly and snarky too and knew what signs to look for: dead eyes, lips curled in a tight, controlled smile and… Oh.

  Hello country.

  Chapter 2

  Bigger & Bigger’s eyes were a leather-brown colour and his gaze had a comfy look to it, as though nothing disturbed him, even if you were to throw yourself at him. He had one of those strong, square faces. The ideal shape to work with. Interesting to see a natural six o’clock shadow on his jaw too, instead of one that had been barbered into perfection. She made a mental note of this for when she next did a shoot for jeans and boxer shorts. Don’t let the make-up guys add too much glamour. Keep it earthy. And try to get the male models to aim for a natural tan and not the sprayed-on kind. It worked on this guy. He was extremely handsome, for a ditch digger.

  She held out her hand. ‘Kate Singleton. Nice to meet you. And you are?’ Hopefully not some ruffian who looked like Superman but had the brain of a turkey.

  ‘Jamie Knight.’ He took her hand and shook it.

  Kate ignored the fact he hadn’t wiped his shovel-sized hand first and withheld the need to wipe off the dried, dusty dirt now on hers.

  She glanced over her shoulder and the roof of her car to his yellow excavator and saw Knight Works painted in bold white signage, although a bit mud-splashed.

  ‘My knight in khaki,’ she said with a smile, and ran an eye down his torso, over his khaki-clad hips and down his legs. All that thrust and heave-ho would get her out of the mud. If she was nice to him. Must remember to talk in country mode. ‘Golly galoshes but you look strong.’

  He raised his brow and said nothing, but the comfy expression in his eyes turned a kind of wary-looking. No time to dither on that point in case he changed his mind and left her to the mud.

  Kate pointed to the boot of her car. ‘I don’t suppose you’d be able to rescue my Chardonnay too, would you?’ If he had her slung over his hefty shoulder, she’d be secured and he’d be hands-free. ‘If I carry my carry-on bag and my shoes, you could probably carry my wine.’

  He wiped his mouth with his big, dirty hand and looked off into the distance. ‘Why me?’ he asked in a quiet tone, but by the look on his face Kate didn’t think the question was directed at herself.

  ‘Pop the boot,’ he said.

  Kate did so, then took her shoes off. Holding them by their sling-backs she knelt on the driver’s seat and reached over to the back seat for her carry-on. She placed the bag and the shoes on her seat so she could pick them up once she was…over his shoulder.

  ‘Ready,’ she said, turning to him.

  He took hold of her by the waist, lifted her off the seat, flung her over his shoulder and turned so his back was to the car.

  ‘Grab your gear,’ he told her.

  Okay, not quite ready. She tensed as she found her balance on his shoulder, and then stretched down. ‘Got them,’ she said. And…off we go.

  Heavens.

  It was a little worrying having her backside to the sky and had she been armed with foresight, once she’d got off the plane from New York she would have changed out of her slimline dress into her track-pants. Scrap that thought. She would have remembered to buy track-pants. She hoped to God the grocer’s in town stocked more than coffee, milk and pretzels.

  The boot of her car slammed and Kate angled her head to check, as best she could around the broad back she was hanging against, that Jamie Knight had her wine. He did. He also had her big suitcase. Holy cowboy, what strength. What long arms. Twenty-three kilos of checked baggage, seven kilos of cabin bag, ahem kilos of Kate and…how much would twelve bottles of wine weigh?

  His shoulder was broad enough for her midriff to settle on the width without sliding off but she couldn’t hold on due to her hands being full of her tortoiseshell-leather bag and her favourite shoes. She jammed her elbows into his sides as a means of clinging on as he moved off. ‘Um…are you sure you can carry the wine and the suitcase?’

  He didn’t answer so Kate sucked it up and held onto her courage, her carry-on and her sling-backs. At least this way, she’d have her pyjamas and her Chardonnay for her first solo night in the country. Not the arrival she’d envisaged but life wasn’t easy in the country. Sammy had told her that.

  Once on the road, he let her down by swinging her around and levering her down his arm so her luggage and her shoes didn’t fall. A He-Man with a capital H.

  ‘Thank you so much,’ she said, slipping her feet into her shoes. ‘How are we going to get the car out?’ She held her hand up in a placating manner, and added a smile. ‘Obviously I don’t expect you to tow it with your excavator, you’ve done so much already — but do you know if there’s a mechanic around?’ Kate wasn’t sure if roadside assistance operated this far into the Snowy Mountains. Perhaps they winched bogged hire cars out of distress with a helicopter.

  ‘Your car’s here for the night. Can’t use the excavator to tow it, and anyway, I’m on my way home.’

  The night. One night. Not too bad then. He must know someone who could help her retrieve the vehicle. Probably a farmer with a tractor. At least she had her own tow rope. That might appease any farmer with a tendency to think city women drivers were more trouble than their feminine wiles were worth. And she doubted any of them would believe the parrot story.

  ‘I’ll bring my ute down tomorrow morning and tow it out for you.’

  Kate clapped her hands together. ‘Thank you so much.’ Country manners. A woman didn’t get this sort of assistance in the city. ‘So are you able to drop me off at Silver Bells House on your way home, or is it out of your way?’ She glanced down All Seasons Road which led to nowhere she could see. ‘That’s where I’m staying.’ She’d got herself, her luggage and her wine safely saved but there was no way she’d be able to lug it all to wherever this house was. Up a hillside, Sammy had said. Take All Seasons Road as far as you can heading east until you come to the No Through Road sign, then take the winding track up to the house. Sammy had also said to make sure she arrived in daytime and it was now nearly dusk.

  ‘You’re what?’ he asked.

  ‘Sammy arranged for me to live in the holiday house. I think the key’s under the mat — or something.’

  ‘She what?’

  ‘Silver Bells House,’ she said, pronouncing each word carefully. Perhaps he’d gone deaf over the years from driving his excavator.

  ‘Right,’ he said, studying her as though she were a puzzle where the pieces didn’t fit.

  ‘I can recompense you for fuel and your time.’
/>   He frowned. ‘No need.’

  ‘So could you give me a lift?’

  Nothing, except that deep, now forbidding frown.

  He took a breath. ‘Looks like I’ll have to.’ He climbed onto the metal traction thingies on the excavator, her large suitcase in one hand, her wine under his other arm. So strong. ‘I can take you to the house,’ he said as he stored her luggage behind the driver’s seat. ‘Then we need to talk.’

  Talk? About what? She hadn’t envisaged sharing her wine with him as they chatted about world peace under the stars. She just wanted a lift.

  Kate noticed three man-size pedals attached to long levers, sitting to the left of the driver’s seat. ‘Is it like driving a car?’ she asked as she passed him her carry-on.

  He didn’t answer her question. He’d put her suitcase behind the seat, and placed the box of wine beside it. Her carry-on went in next, on top of the wine.

  Then he got out and held out both hands for Kate to step onto the traction thingies. Before she had time to wonder about how high her slimline dress would ride up her legs and how much thigh he’d get a look at, he’d taken hold of her outstretched arms and pulled her up and onto the digger.

  ‘Good heavens,’ she said, teetering on the balls of her feet so her heels didn’t get caught in the metal rollers. Had he needed to be that vigorous?

  ‘You’re going to have to perch on your suitcase — behind me,’ he said. ‘You need to hold onto my shoulders, please. And don’t tell anyone I did this.’ He pulled her up into the cab and — quite forcefully, Kate thought — coerced her into the cab behind the seat.

  ‘Did what?’ she asked, squeezing herself behind the seat, twisting her legs to one side and perching on the suitcase.

  ‘Gave you a piggy-back in my fourteen-tonner.’ He hauled himself up into the seat and closed the cab door. ‘My insurance wouldn’t cover it.’

  He turned the key in the ignition and all the lights came on. Then he released a handbrake and Kate grabbed the back of his seat in case they shot off. But nothing happened until he moved one of the long levers with a pedal attached and…they were off. She was rather charmed by the thrill rumbling through her. Who’d have thought she’d get to ride in a fourteen-tonner?

  ‘What a view from up here. I can see over the hedges. Spectacular.’

  He mumbled something.

  Kate leaned forwards over his shoulder. ‘What did you say?’ She angled her face so that her ear was next to his cheek.

  ‘Hold onto my shoulders,’ he said.

  Touchy. She straightened, as much as was possible. Her head was tilted forwards and her body twisted to one side in order to fit. She gripped the back of his seat.

  Kate listened to the rackety noise in the cab. Perhaps Mr Bigger & Bigger was a little deaf. He hadn’t answered any of her questions directly.

  She drummed up some sweetness. ‘What a lovely excavator,’ she called above the drone. ‘You must be so proud.’

  He moved his head slightly as though about to look at her, but apparently changed his mind. He studied the road ahead.

  ‘How do you move the big arm?’ she asked, pointing to the digger’s big arm.

  No response.

  Kate sighed. It might take hours to get to the cottage. She wondered how fast they were going and whether or not his fourteen-tonner was at full steam ahead.

  She sat back and shut up. For at least thirty seconds.

  Maybe he only spoke man-talk. She could do man-talk. Singleton’s Sassy Sensations had done hundreds of shoots on industrial sites and in car yards, making tall, lanky male models look dirty and oily enough to sell jeans and boxer shorts by the millions. She slapped her hand onto the knob of an unused lever at his right hand side. ‘How many to the litre?’ she asked him.

  He grabbed her hand and held it firmly up and away from the lever. ‘Don’t touch anything,’ he said, sounding peeved.

  She pulled her hand out of his. Just her luck. In the bleak midsummer with Excavator-man.

  After another ten minutes he turned the excavator onto the No Through Road track and Kate’s heart bounced like a puppy off the leash as they drove uphill. She leaned forwards slightly, in case the additional weight to the front of the cab helped ensure the bloody fourteen-tonner didn’t topple backwards.

  ‘Oh, look.’ She pointed through the side window to a row of stones of various shapes and sizes, all neatly stacked between A-frames and string plumb lines. ‘Somebody’s building one of those dry-stone country walls. Isn’t is fabulous?’

  She didn’t expect a response, but got irritated by the lack of one anyway. ‘Is something wrong?’ she asked snappily.

  ‘I’m just trying to work a few things out,’ he ground out.

  She ignored him after that and concentrated on her future destination. Her heart swelled like an inflatable pillow. A remote country lane, shaded with gum trees. The eucalyptus aroma up here, high on the hill, mellowing her vexed frame of mind. She sighed. Twelve days of nothing coming right up. Yes, siree.

  ‘Oh, my God.’ She tapped him on the shoulder. ‘Look. Look — we’re here. That’s the house.’

  Stunning. Such potential. Two-storey, old-stone, weathered and wonderful. Slightly European in design, which was a surprise but it blended into its surroundings with ease. The front portion of the house jutted out from the back part with a dynamic sloping roof on the left and a shorter slope on the right.

  ‘Holy moly.’

  Six square windows, each of different size, suggested cosiness and contentment waited for her. And someone had switched the lights on inside. How thoughtful. Two coach lights, one either side of the sturdy pale-blue wooden door were also lit, shining a welcome on the arched, stone paved portico.

  ‘Oh, it’s just dripping in gorgeous.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, loudly and resolutely.

  Kate leaned forwards to check his features. Why would he thank her? He glanced her way.

  Kate sat back, not wanting to be held captive by that serious frown, and took another look around. Oh-oh. A monster white ute with tyres as big as a bear was parked on the driveway. On the side of the monster ute were the words: Knight Works.

  She fought a sudden agitation and looked out of the other window. Did Excavator-man live in the area too? Maybe there was a hut around the back, and Sammy and Ethan had kindly allowed him to stay there while he was digging their ditches.

  Her heartbeat knocked against her ribcage. She didn’t like the idea of sharing her patch of country with Jamie Knight.

  ‘What in bejeezus is going on here?’ she asked.

  ‘Bejeezus?’ he asked, quizzically. ‘Where are you from? Ireland?’

  ‘Sydney.’

  ‘So what’s with all the…Never mind.’ He switched everything off in the cab, opened the door and got himself out. ‘Come on then. Home sweet home.’

  As though in a dream, Kate levered herself out of the confined space and put her arms out to him.

  ‘Don’t lose your shoes,’ he said as he swung her onto the metal rollers. ‘I haven’t got time to fix the traction because of a four-inch spike.’

  What had happened to the country manners?

  He jumped off the excavator, reached up for her, took hold of her waist and swung her off the rollers and onto the ground.

  Kate’s body was taut and her brain seemed to be sparking. ‘Where are you staying?’ she asked. Oh, please, God, don’t let him say it. Don’t let him say it.

  ‘Where do you think?’

  Excavator-man’s constant, low-drawled, unhelpful responses were beginning to get on her executive nerves. ‘This is my holiday home,’ she told him in the brusque tone she used when one of her newcomer designers got too big for her wedges. ‘It’s my twelve day getaway. Thank you for the rescue and all that, but I hope to God you’re not staying here too.’

  ‘I’m afraid it’s worse than that.’

  Like how much worse? Wasn’t there supposed to be a choice? Do you want the good n
ews first or the bad?

  ‘I don’t know what’s going on here,’ he said steadily, ‘but Silver Bells House isn’t a holiday home. It’s mine. I own it. And I don’t take guests.’

  Chapter 3

  Kate’s mouth wouldn’t work. It was open, because the warm evening air partied with her tongue, but… What had he said?

  She swallowed the air and salivated her mouth. ‘I thought you were the ditch digger.’

  ‘I am. I’m also the owner of Silver Bells House.’

  ‘Since when?’

  ‘Since four weeks ago.’

  ‘But what has… I mean why did…’ She shrugged her shoulders to her ears. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Neither do I, but there’s been a mistake.’

  ‘Sammy doesn’t make mistakes. Are you sure she didn’t mention me?’

  He shook his big, workman’s head.

  ‘Not even a little? As in, “Hi, Mr Knight, my best friend is coming to stay at your house”.’

  ‘Not even a smidgeon.’

  ‘I thought you worked for Ethan.’

  ‘Correction. I accepted Ethan’s contractual offer to build the new stone veterinary surgery. I’m a stonemason.’

  ‘But I thought you were a…’ Workman passing through. She ploughed on, not caring what he thought about her rapid-fire questions. ‘Why did you buy this house? Are you a local?’

  ‘I liked it. And I’m now local number eighty-eight.’

  ‘Well I like it too, and it’s supposed to be my twelve-day retreat from everything your flippancy is reminding me too much of.’

  ‘Too bad.’

  She released her shoulders which were still stuck up around her ears, and pulled them back. He hadn’t gone at all male-affronted at her questioning, which she admired. The man had tenacity. And her holiday house. ‘I need to call Sammy.’ Except Sammy, her once faithful friend, would still be thirty-thousand feet high. ‘Don’t bother getting my luggage out — you’ll have to give me a lift into town.’ And she wasn’t about to say please.