Vision in Faith (Legends of the North Book 3) (5 page)

"Vicky?"

Her head snapped up. "Sorry. What?"
 

He laughed, a deep rumble that she hadn't heard before, and she wondered if he was normally like that or if she'd caught him in a good moment for a change.

"Not that I mind, but was there a reason you stopped by?"

"Sorry, yes, I…" She pushed the papers across the desk to him. "I've signed them all."

And there went that smile again. She watched him flick through the papers, then tap them against his desk before placing them on a tray. Standing, he walked around his desk and over to the key cabinet. Shaking a bunch of keys at her, he asked, "Do you want to go see it again?"

She couldn't help but smile back, because she did, more than anything. "Yes!"

"Come on then," he said, grabbing his jacket and opening the door for her.

 
It only took them five minutes to walk down Main Street to the shop. Vicky stood across the street from it and tried to imagine what it would look like with her sign above the door.

"Do you have a name for it yet?"

She dragged her gaze from the shop and over to James, a huge smile on her face that she just couldn't stop. "Not yet, but I have a few ideas."

Following him across the street, he handed the keys to her. His fingers brushed across hers and her skin felt like it was on fire, a trail of heat left behind as goosebumps tingled across her hip. She glanced up at him, but he was staring at the door. Gripping the keys tighter, she unlocked it and walked inside her shop.
My shop!

She heard James behind her but she carried on upstairs. It was much smaller than her flat. She found herself in what would be her living room. Across the hall, there was a small bathroom and next to it a small kitchen. Stairs led up to the next floor with a bedroom that had an old fireplace, and a window seat. It might be small, but there would be plenty of room for her and Teazle.

"Are you going to use this for storage?" Her forehead furrowed at his question as she turned towards him.

"For the shop," he said, as though to clarify.

She shook her head. "No, this will be my bedroom."

"But… what about your flat out by Stydon."

 
As she understood what he meant, she laughed. "I can't afford the rent on that place as well as this. I'll be living above the shop to save money." The look on his face made her smile. He probably had no idea about having to save money or worrying about meeting another month's rent payment. He probably didn't even have to pay rent on his cottage.
 

Wouldn't that be a nice situation to be in?

***

James stared at her as her words sunk in. She was going to live there. They were standing in her bedroom. And there went that dream again, as he imagined all the inventive ways she could pay the rent in order to save money. His lip twitched up, as did his dick, and he tried to think about tax returns and not Vicky on her knees in front of him. "I didn't realise. This is a huge day for you, then. I should buy you a drink to celebrate."

He watched as her eyes widened in surprise. Yeah, he was surprised when those words had come out too. But he wanted to celebrate with her, he really did. "What do you say? A celebratory drink at the pub?"

She didn't look convinced and he expected her to say no, but then, slowly, she nodded and smiled at him.
 

"That would be nice, thanks."

He stood outside the shop, hands in his jeans pockets, as she locked up, and held the keys out to him.

"You're going to need those. They're yours."
 

She wrapped her fingers around them and they headed away from the shop.
 

It was a short, quiet walk down the street to the pub. He held the door open for her and followed her inside. Not surprisingly, for an early Monday evening, it was quiet. John sat at the bar, in his usual spot, the same stool on the end, and James tensed.
 

The last time he'd seen him was when Matt had dragged him to the pub and Vicky had made her dislike of the Altenbury name clear. Right around the same time, John had become a little too friendly with Vicky for James's liking. John looked up as James walked past him.

"All right, James. Is Matt coming in?"
 

James kept walking, resting his hand an inch away from the small of Vicky's back. He wasn't sure how she would react to what could be seen as a possessive touch, but he just wanted her to keep moving.
 

"Not sure, to be honest, John."
 

Vicky looked back over her shoulder, but he kept walking until they were at the other end of the bar. James leaned against the bar, angling his body in towards her so his back was to John, blocking her view. He ordered their drinks and then led her to a table for two in the corner. Once they had settled into their chairs, he lifted his pint in a toast. "To a fresh start."
 

He hoped she realised he meant them as much as her new business.
 

***

Vicky watched as James lifted his pint. She'd smiled when she had felt the heat of his hand near her back, and couldn't help but wonder if it had something to do with John. The last time she'd seen John had been when she gave James a piece of her mind, and she groaned inwardly at the memory. How wrong she had been, it seemed. But she could clearly see the scowl on James's face afterwards when she had stood at the bar with John, right before he'd left, and her smile faded.

But she had pushed that thought aside as she followed him to a small table in the corner of the pub, looking straight across at James as their knees brushed against each other under the small table. Her smile was back in place when he lifted his pint to make a toast.

"To a fresh start."

She swallowed as she felt tears in her eyes and tried to blink them away. That wasn't what she had been expecting him to say. She tilted her head, wondering if he realised there was more than one meaning to his toast. Was this their fresh start? Was that what he was implying? Or was she reading too much into his words?

She lifted her wineglass and tapped it against his glass. "Fresh starts," she said, taking a sip of her wine.
 

She dropped her gaze, suddenly feeling awkward.
What am I doing here? Alone with James?
She had nothing in common with him, except people they knew, and she had no idea what to say to him. Small talk wasn't usually a problem for her; she was a hairstylist, for Christ's sake. But somehow, asking him about his holiday plans didn't seem quite right.

"So, do you have any idea when you'll be opening? The shop, I mean."

She came back to reality at his question. "No, not yet. I need to get the inside of the salon ready, and that's going to be difficult while I'm still working for Margaret, but I'll be handing my notice in soon. I'll give notice on my flat as soon as I can so I can move in above the salon, which will make it easier."
 

Rubbing her finger over the heart on her long necklace, her gaze then shifted upwards. "There's so much to do that it's a little… It's overwhelming, to say the least."

He smiled at her, and she noticed that dimple in his chin again. Leaning forward, he rested his forearms on the table and spread his hands out on the top of it. Her gaze was drawn to his long, tapered fingers that looked like they were used to hard work and not just pen-pushing, which surprised her. The idea of feeling those rough fingers caressing her skin surprised her even more.

"You know, I know a thing or two about running a business. I'd be happy to help you out."

Her eyes started to fill again, annoyingly, because she wasn't someone who cried normally. Except here James was, offering to help, and she'd done nothing to deserve it. Had been horrible to him, really. Her parents would have been ashamed of her behaviour, yet her mum was the reason she was wary of the Altenbury name. Blinking her eyes clear, she looked back up at him. "I'm sorry."

His face turned serious before he scowled at her. He took a large gulp of his pint before he said, "For what?"

"You've been nothing but nice to me. And, well… I was rude that first night we met in here." Swallowing down a large gulp of her wine, she spun the glass around on the table. "I was horrible, really, and that had more to do with your mother than you, but I should have asked you about it before I took it out on you. And my mum, if I'm honest. She doesn't like your mother, and I'm not sure why."

James surprised her by laughing. "It's okay. Not many people do like my mother. She's an… acquired taste, but she's not a bad person. Not normally, anyway. I'm sorry, both for her comment and her refusal of the shop to you. I still mean to mention that to her."

Feeling like they'd cleared the air, she relaxed a little. Draining the last of her wine, she lifted her glass towards him and asked, "Can I get you another?"
 

He took the glass from her hand. "No, but I'll get you another. It's your celebration, after all. Plus, you need to be saving every penny now."

She huffed out a half laugh. "You're right. That's what Emma said when I texted her earlier. Well, that and offering Matt's services."

Coughing around the last sip of his beer, he looked at her through watery eyes. "That's my brother! Exactly what services has Emma been offering out?"

She couldn't help but laugh. The Altenbury's had a sense of humour; who would have thought? "I hope you're not being rude, James! His furniture removal services, of course. What were you thinking of?"

"Exactly that," he said with a wink as he stood and headed off to the bar.

She laughed as he walked away and her gaze dropped to his denim-clad arse. Just tight enough to show off what he had, which was a very fine arse indeed.
Okay, enough alcohol for Vicky after this one.
 

She couldn't think like that since they had to work together. He may have given her Spinner's Cottage, but he could take it away again just as easily; she'd be wise to remember that.
 

James placed another glass of wine in front of her, and she smiled in return.
 

The rest of the evening passed in much the same way, and she realised she'd really enjoyed herself after her shitty day at work.

Steve walked over to where they sat and clapped a hand on James's shoulder. "How's it going?"

"Good, good. You?"

Steve waved an arm around the pub. "Too bloody quiet, but what can you do? Can I get you anything else?" he asked, smiling down at Vicky.

She shook her head as she realised the time. "No, thank you. I need to get home." James shook his head and Steve wandered off back towards the bar.
 

"Thank you for tonight."

"My pleasure," he said, standing when she did.

"I need to get back for Teazle."

He followed her outside and she turned to say good night.

"I'm not going to let you walk home on your own. Not when you've been out with me, anyway."

Vicky laughed but stopped when she saw he was serious. "James, I live five minutes out of the village. It's a walk I've been doing since I was a child. I'm sure I'll be fine on my own."

He stared at her, his eyes intense. "I'm walking you home."

They stood there, staring at each other in a kind of standoff until she gave in and, with a huff, said, "Fine." She started down the road towards home, James alongside her, both of them quiet. When they reached her flat, she stopped outside but could hear Teazle excitedly scratching at the door. She looked up at James, about to ask him something, but she wasn't quite sure what.

He took a step towards her and she took one back, finding herself pressed against the wall. He put his hands on the wall, one on either side of her head, bringing him closer to her.
 

His gaze met hers for a long moment.
Is he asking permission? Waiting for me to make a move? Kiss me. Please kiss me.
His head lowered, and his warm lips met hers. She let out a small moan as she pushed off the wall to get closer to him. Looping her hands around his neck, he pressed himself against her and it was hard—literally—not to notice how much he was enjoying it. His tongue traced across her bottom lip, and she flicked hers out to meet it before he sucked hers into his mouth.

She twisted, trying to get closer, to get… more. But then he was pulling back from her as she tried to slow her breathing, panting at him. She glanced up at him. His lips glistened in the dark, and he smiled at her. His hands had never left the wall, and he leaned back in to gently press his lips to hers again before dropping his hands. He shoved them in his jeans pockets and stepped back.

Chapter 6

He had shoved his hands in his pockets before he did something he regretted. They stood, staring at each other, until she asked, "Do you want come in?"

Oh, do I ever.
But he didn't think she was asking him that
.
"No. Thanks, but I should get home."

"Oh… Okay." She turned to unlock her door.

"Good night, Vicky."

She glanced over her shoulder at him and he smiled, but she didn't return it. "Night, James."

He waited until she'd gone inside and heard her lock the door then walked towards home.
Shit.
 

She wasn't impressed. But if he'd gone inside they would have been doing more than kissing. And he was pretty sure she'd regret it. He knew she would; she'd had too much to drink.
Drink in haste, repent at leisure
.
 

A week ago, she thought she hated him because he was an Altenbury. After agreeing to rent the shop to her, he knew she'd had second thoughts about him. And after celebrating at the pub, she'd relaxed, seemed to open up to him—like him, even. But it was too soon to try to take it further.
 

Unlocking his front door, he threw the keys on the table, toed off his shoes, and made his way upstairs. Had he fucked up by leaving? Unbuttoning his shirt, he dropped it on the bathroom floor and switched the shower on. Unfastening his jeans, he pulled them off along with his boxer briefs and stepped under the water. As the hot spray hit his shoulders, he hung his head and tried to relax, but his mind kept replaying their kiss. He'd wanted more. So much more.