12 Days At Silver Bells House by Jennie Jones Page A

into order. Jamie would be home soon, a little weary from his day. Wanting sustenance and a quiet evening.
    Okay. Kate could do that for him. What a guy he was turning out to be. God bless the country; even if it wasn’t to be her field in life she recognised that it was Jamie’s. It embraced him. It had sunk into his skin and his clothing, that summer-dry aroma of stone and earth. And she’d promised Sammy to be cheery around him.
    She pulled butter out of the fridge and unwrapped it. She used a spoon to pull lengths off the pat, creating butter curls which she placed in a bowl. You got through the nights, and here you are in on the evening of day five . You’ve still got time .
    Rise and shine, Katie. Smile. Put on the glitz.
    ****
    As soon as Jamie stepped through his front door he noticed the difference. The aroma struck him first. Lamb casserole and warm bread. He swallowed the mouth-watering need to eat and closed the front door. He stood awhile, taking in the changes. Atmosphere, he decided. He wasn’t alone. The house had a friend. He couldn’t quite figure out what was different about the hallway as he studied it. Nothing had changed, nothing out of place but it felt as though it had been used today, not just walked through as a means of getting in or out.
    He put his keys on the hall table, walked to the door of the kitchen cum dining room and paused.
    There she was. His house guest. Tonight she wore ivory-coloured linen slacks that clung to her delectable bottom and a midriff-hugging pale green strappy top. Suitable clothing for a hot summer’s night. Most unsuitable for a man who already had trouble not envisaging her naked.
    â€˜Hi,’ he said.
    She spun around, and smiled. ‘Hi. How was your day?’
    Such a positive, energetic yet warm, homey feeling pervaded the space, Jamie half expected the cat to appear.
    â€˜Can’t lay claim to having slaved over your dinner,’ she said, lifting a glass of white wine from the bench. ‘Since you cooked it. But I’m heating it up. Hope that will give me points.’ Another smile.
    Jamie responded with a smile of his own. ‘What else have you been doing?’ He turned a slow, full circle, taking in the neatness of his usual clutter. ‘You’ve been tidying.’ Hell. Had she felt the need to clean up his mess? Was it a mess, his usual way of living? He cleaned, he cooked but…yeah — he hardly ever tidied up. Had a habit of stacking things where he’d last used them instead of putting them back in their proper places. Unlike his truck or his working gear and equipment in the shed where he knew where every damn screw or trowel was.
    He turned back to her. She had a hand on her hip, and the smile still bounced on her features. ‘You look rested,’ he told her, although her eyes were a little over-bright.
    â€˜Jamie, I’ve been playing house with your home. I hope you don’t mind. You have some fabulous pieces of furniture and art. Are they all yours? Or did you inherit them from the previous owner of the house?’
    Jamie turned and picked up one of the renovation magazines she’d stacked on the bookshelves. ‘Mostly mine,’ he said, absently flicking through the pages so he had something to occupy him. ‘Some of it was my father’s.’ He hadn’t kept any of Megan’s things when he’d closed up the family home, not that she’d had much. Mostly just her bedroom furniture and a few pieces her mother had left her. Megan’s stuff was in storage, waiting for Megan to want it.
    Jamie looked up from the magazine. Kate obviously didn’t feel the need for further enquiry because she began flitting around the kitchen again, pulling dinner plates and side plates from the cupboards. Slicing bread, setting the table. Looking at home in his kitchen. Looking damned good in his kitchen.
    â€˜I’ll go shower,’ he said, taking a step