The House at the Bottom of the Hill by Jennie Jones Read Free Book Online Page A

off.’
    ‘Doing the manly thing first. Making sure you’re okay to putter on down the hill without help.’
    She stood and turned her back to him. ‘There isn’t much that’ll take my concentration off whatever I’m doing.’ She crossed her arms over her front and grabbed her sweatshirt at the hemline. She peeled the sweatshirt up, revealing a white singlet top fitted tightly on her torso. She pulled the sweatshirt over her shoulders, then over her head—where it got caught. Blindfolded by the clothing, she struggled to get her arms out.
    Dan ran his gaze over her, giving a fair amount of consideration to how much and why she wasn’t his type. He’d only seen her wear clothes that skimmed her body without touching it—apart from the voluminous sweatshirt. Her blouses weren’t baggy but neither did they cling. Skirts above her knees with no swing to them. Although her legs were shapely: smooth calves, knees that bordered on knobbly but a person would only notice if he looked hard.
    She turned in a circle as she yanked at the top, her red hair flying through the neck. She didn’t have the full, ripe figure he usually went for, but she had eye-catching womanly curves. Who knew she’d been keeping a figure like that hidden beneath her demure clothing?
    Not your type, mate. Remember?
    ‘So how’s the B&B shaping up?’
    ‘What?’ she asked, voice muffled in the cloth of her sweatshirt. She gasped as it came off her head, hair flying around her face. ‘What did you say?’ Still puffing, she knotted the arms of the shirt around her waist and ran both hands over her head, taming her titian hair.
    Dan sucked in air. Red . He meant red hair.
    She parted her lips and licked them with the tip of her tongue. Her mouth was full and pouty. Too big for her face. He groaned inwardly. Who was he kidding? Her mouth was sexy as hell. Any second now he’d be dribbling. He took up his jog again, willing everything stirring below his waist to lie low.
    ‘I said, how’s the B&B coming along? Got many renovations to do?’
    ‘I have a few plans, as I’m sure you’re aware.’
    He questioned her with a cocked eyebrow.
    ‘I’m going to paint it yellow.’ She stared at him, a defiant look, hands on her hips. The Lycra shorts clung to the top of pale-skinned thighs. Good muscle tone in her legs.
    He took his focus up to her face. ‘Yellow?’
    She pulled the legs of her shorts down. One sprang right up again. ‘Sunflower yellow.’ She hauled it down once more.
    ‘Need some help?’
    She paused, drawing her titian-coloured eyebrows together. Red! He meant red.
    ‘Not your shorts,’ he said. ‘The B&B.’ He couldn’t prevent his grin at her look of indignation. ‘Just thought you might like someone on your side with the war council.’
    ‘What’s that?’
    ‘Swallow’s Fall Community Spirit committee.’
    ‘And what do you think about me wanting to change the colour of the B&B?’
    ‘I don’t care what colour you paint it. Paint it purple if you like. It won’t interfere with my business. Kookaburra’s is halfway down Main Street and is obviously a hotel.’
    ‘You’ve got rooms? I thought it was just a pub.’
    He stopped jogging, tilted his head, put his hands to his hips and spread his feet, echoing her stance. ‘In Australia we often call a pub a hotel. No, I haven’t got rooms.’ Yet . ‘And it’s not “just a pub”.’
    ‘Have you got a thing going on with Mrs Johnson?’ she asked. ‘You sound just like her.’
    ‘Don’t go all spitty about the people here. They’re all right. You have to learn to get on with them.’ She didn’t seem prepared to even try. ‘Mrs J is okay … well.’ Dan gave in; he knew his townspeople. ‘Some people are a little odd, but they’ve got their reasons. Has Ted told you about his obsession with space and aliens?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘Has Mrs J introduced you to her pig, Ruby? She walks her on a lead.’
    ‘No, she hasn’t. I’m not liked, as if