Surrender to Her Spanish Husband. Maggie Cox

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      ‘She’s been gone nearly three months now. She’s due back in a fortnight.’

      ‘I see. And what about the interior design consultancy that you intended to resurrect when you returned to the UK? Are you not involved with that any more?’

      ‘I’m still running it, though business has been a bit slow throughout the summer months. That’s why I was able to come here and help Lily out.’

      ‘And how are things with your brother Tim? Are you still paying the mortgage on the family home you shared with him? I remember he had a particular talent for avoiding work and paying his own share.’

      Rodrigo’s question, along with his sardonic remark, made Jenny feel queasy. Of course Rodrigo had no idea what had happened when she’d returned…how sour things had turned between her and Tim—culminating in a most shocking event that she would never forget…

      ‘Tim met somebody and moved to Scotland after I bought out his share of the house.’

      ‘So you’re still living there?’

      Feeling her face throb with uncomfortable heat beneath Rodrigo’s razor-sharp scrutiny, Jenny glanced away. ‘I’d better go and see to those bins.’

      She was still wary of further probing questions as she lifted out the recycling bag from its plastic container beneath the double butler sink that Lily had excitedly sourced from a local reclamation yard, and prayed Rodrigo would cease quizzing her.

      Heading for the door opening into the utility room, she threw over her shoulder, ‘Why don’t you just relax and enjoy your refreshments in peace?’

      ‘Jenny?’

      Turning, she found to her astonishment that he was right behind her, his half-drunk mug of coffee left on the table. Her heart foolishly hammered at his unexpected nearness. ‘What is it?’

      ‘Let me do that for you…it sounds like a war zone out there and I don’t like the idea of you coming under fire on your own.’

      Even as he uttered the words a thunderous crash resounded above them, its threatening echoes rumbling like some disgruntled giant disturbed from his sleep. Once again all the lights buzzed precariously on and off, as though the whole place might be plunged into darkness at any second.

      Clutching the recycling bag tightly between her fingers, Jenny shook her head. ‘I’m not afraid of the storm. I’ll only be gone a couple of minutes.’

      Not hanging around to see if he would try to persuade her, she rushed out through the door into the utility room. Once there, she opened the back door to the part of the garden where a paved pathway led towards a sturdy iron gate, beyond which was the road. Or where she knew there should be a road. Switching on the night light, all she could see through the grey shroud of misty, heavily falling rain was an uprooted tree lying drunkenly across the path. The ferocious wind was tossing everything around as though it were the flimsy furniture in a child’s dolls’ house. Lily’s beloved greenhouse was ominously shaking and shuddering. It was definitely under threat of losing its moorings as the rain viciously pelted the thin glass panes, Jenny saw. Dangerously, just a few feet away a slim-stemmed birch was being all but battered to kingdom come. If it came crashing down on top of Lily’s beloved greenhouse the several almost ripened tomato plants that she’d been tending like a broody mother hen would certainly be demolished—as would every other plant and vegetable in there.

      The idea of being the one who was responsible for losing them galvanised Jenny into action. Determinedly she headed for the shed at the bottom of the garden, the wind’s eerie elemental power making her stumble more than once as she negotiated her way round the fallen tree that lay across the path. A while ago, whilst searching for a particular garden tool, she’d spotted what looked like a fairly robust rolled up tarpaulin inside the shed, which could now be put to good use.

      The large tarpaulin clutched against her sodden chest, along with some tent pegs she’d found, Jenny shook her drenched hair from her eyes and then steeled herself to walk back to the other side of the garden where the greenhouse stood. Grimacing as another bolt of silver lightning lit up the sky, she uncurled the tarp, shaking it out as best as she could.

      It didn’t take long for her to realise she was fighting a losing battle. Every time she managed to get one corner straightened out the wind all but ripped it out of her now freezing hands and she had to fight to uncurl it again. The rain was like a grey blindfold over her eyes as she worked, making her curse out loud because she hadn’t thought about the implications of such a storm earlier, when she’d first seen the darkening clouds appear in the sky.

      ‘What are you trying to do?’

      A voice to the side of her lifted to make itself heard above the storm. Already drenched to the skin from his dash from the back door to reach Jenny’s side, Rodrigo was staring at her as though she was quite mad.

      ‘The greenhouse!’ she shouted, pointing. ‘I need to secure it so it won’t get flattened by the storm. I was going to throw the tarp over it and then fasten it to the ground to hold it.’

      Comprehending, Rodrigo unceremoniously relieved her of the wildly blowing tarpaulin and then shoved one corner back into her hands. ‘Move back and we will shake it out together,’ he instructed. ‘Do you have anything to secure it?’

      ‘Yes.’ She quickly stooped to retrieve the long tent pegs she’d left by her feet. ‘These.’ She handed them over.

      ‘We need a hammer to bang them into the ground.’ Momentarily he shifted his gaze down to her feet, as if expecting to see the necessary tool lying there.

      ‘Oh, God.’ Biting her lip, Jenny stared back at Rodrigo with an apologetic shrug. ‘I forgot to bring the mallet with me. It’s still in the shed.’

      ‘I’ll get it. Stay here.’

      ‘It’s at the other end of the garden. Can you see it?’

      ‘Yes, I see it.’ Before he left, Rodrigo furnished her with a wry look. ‘And do your best not to get blown away by the wind while I am gone…I am looking forward to my full English breakfast in the morning, and that’s not going to happen without a cook!’

      No sooner had he left than he was back again, a large wooden mallet clutched tightly in his hand, as if the storm and the fallen tree had been but mere annoying trifles that had not even vaguely threatened his mission. Taking charge with reassuring confidence, he yelled instructions to Jenny, helping them both negotiate the best way of working in the increasingly untamed weather.

      By the time they had the tarp over the greenhouse roof and the sides rolled down securely over the glass walls—Rodrigo having deftly banged in the tent pegs through the loops to fasten it to the ground—Jenny felt as if she’d been packed in ice and left to freeze. Thank God her ex had been around to help her. That was all she could think as she took one last glance through the drowning rain at the secured tarp covering Lily’s treasured greenhouse. She’d never have managed it on her own, she realised.

      Gratefully dashing into the house again, she knew she must look half-drowned, with her sodden clothing and dripping hair. Next to the efficient DIY expert, who still managed to look nothing less than gorgeous even though he was also wet through, Jenny felt like something the cat had dragged in. It wasn’t a picture she wanted to project to anyone…least of all the man that had broken her heart. СКАЧАТЬ