The Saturday Morning Park Run - Jules Wake Page 0,3
up two sides of her garden and I really needed to go into the office. Maybe I could fob her off to the following Saturday. I was so behind, having been given yet another project to sort out. That was the by-product of being good at your job and good at finding those pesky solutions. You ended up with everyone else’s problems and had to solve them when someone else threw in the towel with the deadline imminent. Going into the office at the weekend meant I could get loads done. Gritting my teeth, I wondered if I ought to offer her the money to pay for a man to come in but I’d already paid for my nieces’ school dinners and their summer uniforms this month. Not that I minded, but every now and then Alice would get on her high horse and accuse me of throwing my money around to ‘buy people’.
Thankfully, the arrival of the train dispelled my thoughts on the best solution for Alice’s hedge and I realised that my new friend and I had boarded the same carriage, snagging the last available seats which were, as bad fortune would have it, bang opposite each other. He plugged himself into his phone and I pulled out the sheets of my presentation to go over my points one last time, making sure I had committed all the figures to memory, absently tugging at my clammy shirt to pull it away from my chest. Damn. It was guaranteed that my best M&S Rosie for Autograph bra was ruined and, to add insult to injury, I’d bought four pairs of matching knickers, at a ridiculously expensive price.
With a shake and a rattle, the train pulled out of the traditional Victorian station with its painted white wrought-iron and pretty hanging baskets, sliding away from the view of industrial yards and workshops into open countryside in a matter of minutes.
I sneaked a few glances at the man across the way. If he weren’t such an arrogant git and didn’t have such a pissed-off expression on his face, I might have thought him quite good looking with his almost golden skin and the unusual coloured eyes, which were heavily fringed with lashes most girls would envy. The severe haircut didn’t suit his thick black glossy hair but I liked those dark heavy eyebrows that framed a very attractive face with a square, almost movie-star, chiselled jawline.
As if he felt the silent study, he glanced up and glared at me. I dropped my eyes to his crotch; that dark stain across the waistband and down his mid-grey trousers really was quite unfortunate. I shot him a small smirk. Okay, so I wasn’t being very nice but all my attempts to be helpful earlier had been rudely rebuffed.
His lips hardened and he stared at me. A hard stare. Shades of Paddington. Well, two could play at that game. I would stare back at him until he dropped his gaze. Unfortunately, he was made of sterner stuff and held my gaze without a trace of self-consciousness or any sign of backing down. I stiffened and sat a little taller, which made his lips curve very slightly with a touch of derision, as if this were some small sign of weakness. I took this as a direct challenge and lifted my chin. I raised an eyebrow, which gave me what I knew was a haughty air. Ros had told me off on more than one occasion for using this, saying it made me appear horribly superior, which I thought wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.
He raised one of his eyebrows as if to say, is that the best you’ve got? It was almost cute. He was almost cute. A little ping of recognition went off in my chest. I very nearly caved and smiled at his sheer arrogance and self-confidence. He was gorgeous and he knew it, but… no; I forced my mouth to firm into a straight, uncompromising line. He really did have the most amazing eyes and at the moment I had carte blanche to study them. It was rather liberating. The colour was almost sea green but with a touch of whisky. Now his cockiness had been replaced with sheer determination. Again, I nearly crumbled. I could almost see the testosterone boiling up. He was hell bent on winning this challenge. Well, so was I. I quirked my lips in an answering satisfied smirk, as if I knew something he didn’t. As I did,