Kiss a Falling Star Page 7

  Not anymore.

  Ally loved that people in Wyndale were so friendly, that they all knew one another, smiled a lot and didn’t seem to be in a rush. If she could get a job, maybe she could make this her home. Hopefully she’d never see a snake.

  When she found a shop with a license to sell alcohol, Ally pushed open the door. It sold everything else as well, from figs to flowers to fairy lights. The wine was on the bottom shelf of a unit near the counter. Ally bent to look at the limited choice. Red or white? She picked a bottle of red, put it on the counter and laughed when she found herself facing Mike from the pub.

  “Hi there,” Ally said.

  “Hi yourself. Excellent choice. A superior vintage at a knock-down price. That’ll be four ninety-nine.” He gave her a shy smile. “Coming to the pub tonight?”

  “Not tonight. I don’t think darts is my game.”

  “I could teach you,” he blurted.

  Ally recognized the signs, the inability to look straight at her, the flushed cheeks, and knew she had to stop this in its tracks. Mike was too young and innocent. Ally had her eye on wild and dangerous.

  “I’ve got a date tonight,” she said bluntly. “He’s cooking and I’m bringing the wine.”

  Mike’s face creased with disappointment before he frowned. “I’ll feel a lot better about being rejected if you tell me it’s not Caspar Sanderson.”

  Oops. “Sorry.”

  He slammed the cash register shut with a scowl on his face and put the single penny on the counter. “He’s trouble. You know he’s been in prison?”

  Ally’s jaw tensed. “So I heard.”

  “He’s with a different woman every time I see him,” Mike snapped.

  Bugger. “Thanks for the warning.”

  He wrapped the wine in paper before putting it in a bag.

  “He doesn’t give a shit. You’ll get hurt,” he said in a more gentle voice.

  What’s new? “Right.” Ally kept her voice bright. “I’m on my way to see Neil at the MRO base. Can you point me in the right direction?”

  “Keep going past the church, out of the village and you’ll see a converted barn. Most of it is Tom’s adventure business and the other bit belongs to the mountain rescue.”

  “Thanks. ’Bye,” Ally said.

  Ally wondered if the entire village was against Caspar, and if she wasn’t with them, she was against them. The place didn’t seem so friendly, all of a sudden. There was a disadvantage in knowing everyone else’s business. It irked her they were so down on the guy. Ally could make up her own mind, thank you very much. Not that she was surprised to learn Caspar was a player. He had “the look”. Ally found him seductively attractive in his tattered jeans and creased white shirt.

  Almost irresistible. Ally wouldn’t get hurt if she didn’t get involved. She almost laughed at that little gem. She didn’t do uninvolved. That was part of her problem.

  Ally hadn’t switched her phone on again after this morning. She dreaded seeing yet another message from Mark. Or from Jack, for that matter. He’d been really weird after the fire, pestering to meet him. She’d met him when he asked, hoping he’d changed his mind about starting up again, but he hadn’t. Instead, he’d asked all sorts of questions about stuff that didn’t matter anymore, blathering on about the internet and passwords. When he’d suddenly tried to kiss her, she’d picked up her purse and bolted.

  Was nothing ever straightforward?

  When Ally found someone she really liked, she fell hard and fast, entangling herself so tightly in a Gordian knot that within weeks she’d feel herself slipping into a suffocating panic. She didn’t want to be dependent on anyone, didn’t want to move in with him, didn’t want to go on shopping trips to Ikea and buy stuff she didn’t want or like. Settling down scared her shitless because in the long run, it wouldn’t work out, and she’d be left on her own. Better to escape before that happened. Of course, all that worry was usually based on absolutely nothing and the guy dumped her for her freaky behavior before she needed to run.

  If she did get caught up with a guy who turned out to be Mr. Wrong, Ally’s way out was nothing like that of Alexander the Great who’d merely used his sword on the knotty Gordian mess. Ally couldn’t sever her relationships by brute force. Instead, she spent hours trying to be kind and unravel the affair with words while she lied through her teeth.

  It’s not you, it’s me. It’s definitely you.

  I need time to find myself. And you keep getting in the way.

  You’re too good for me. You’re crap in bed.

  Things are moving too fast. You’re crap in bed.

  Mark hadn’t taken any of that very well. He’d been the first one to actually mention Ikea and Ally had ended it. Then, like an idiot, she’d taken him back until he’d cheated on her. She said never again, but he didn’t want to listen. Why were the guys she didn’t want the ones who wanted her the most?

  The barn wasn’t hard to find, an attractive freshly cleaned stone building with a large arched window and a sign above saying Morton’s Adventure Center. A smaller sign at the far end read Wyndale Mountain Rescue. Ally walked in to find Neil crouched on the floor surrounded by coils of single and bicolor rope with a messy tangle of harnesses in one corner. For a scary moment, she imagined the room was full of snakes and then gave herself a mental kick up the bum.

  “Found you,” she said.

  Neil waved her in, a broad smile on his face. “Well done. You’ll go far. First step Wyndale Village mountain rescue center. Next, Atlantis.”

  Ally laughed. “That’s a lot of rope you’re playing with.”

  “I’m in my element. I love rope.”

  “Did you hear about the rope that got stopped three times for speeding?”

  Neil looked puzzled.

  “They said if he did it again they’d unravel him.”

  He laughed politely. “Clever.”

  “Ah, but he had an idea how to disguise himself,” Ally pressed on, and Neil gave her a “oh there’s more” look. “He tied himself in a knot and separated the strands at either end. The police caught him again and said, ‘Aren’t you the rope who was speeding yesterday?’ The rope said, ‘No, I’m a frayed knot.’”

  Neil groaned. “The old ones are the best.”

  “Oh, you’ve heard it. You should have stopped me.”

  “I know better than to stop women in full flow. My wife has me well trained.”

  Ally grinned. “I can’t help noticing the ropes are different colors. I know, you’re amazed at my powers of observation, but does color matter?”

  “It might if you thought you were on a static line and it was a dynamic one.”

  “Oh God, I’m out of my depth already.”

  Neil stood and massaged his shoulder. “Dynamic ropes stretch a little depending on how much the climber weighs. The amount they stretch is fixed, so for example, on that one, there’s a 6.5% stretch on a static load of 80 kilos.”

  He looked at her, expecting her not to get it, but Ally only played at being stupid.

  “Right, so if you fall off, you want the rope to stretch a bit so you don’t break your back when it goes taut. A lead climber would definitely need a dynamic rope.”

  Neil furrowed his brow. “Are you a climber?”

  “Only socially.”

  He laughed. “You can use dynamic ropes for rappelling and hauling gear but it wears them out faster.”

  Ally pointed to a red coil. “So is a thicker rope stronger?”

  “Not necessarily.” He picked up a blue coil. “This is 10.2 mm and rated for ten or eleven falls, but that one,” he pointed to another, “is 11 mm and also rated for eleven, while the 9.7 mm is only rated to five.”

  “You mean you have to discard rope after someone’s fallen on it a certain number of times?” Ally hadn’t known that.

  “Depends on the rope and the fall, but yes. Trusting a rope’s performance is paramount. We have to keep a log of usage. It’s these sorts of records we n
eed to put into better order. Come into the office and I’ll show you.”

  Ally blinked hard when she went in. Magazines, files and sheets of paper were piled on the desk and on the floor. Books were heaped on shelves along one wall. Every chair was draped with an open map.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” Neil said. “Ah, damn it, yes it is. I don’t have time to sort it out, and the equipment always takes priority. This has gotten out of hand. We’re running a training session on Sunday and somewhere are the details of those coming.” He ran his fingers through his short hair. “Still want to help?”

  “I’d love to. I can spare a couple of hours now. I’ll sort stuff into piles and you can tell me what needs chucking away.”

  “I knew the moment you threw a dart that you must have some redeeming quality.”

  Ally laughed. “I can make a mean cup of tea too. Go and play with your ropes and leave me to it.”

  “Three sugars, please.”

  “How many does your wife let you have?”

  “One.”

  “One it is,” said Ally.

  After she’d taken Neil a drink, Ally did the obvious tidying—setting the books straight on the shelves, folding the ordinance survey maps and putting them in a neat pile. Dirty cups and plates went into the sink to soak, climbing magazines were stacked to teeter by the door—oldest at the bottom—and random pieces of paper with scribbled messages went in a box to be checked in case they were important.

  In the other room, Neil’s phone rang, and after he answered, he dropped his voice. A few minutes later, as Ally tottered across the room carrying a cardboard box full of multicolored metal clips collected from all over the place, the door opened and Neil came in with Tom, their faces tense.

  Tom lifted the box from her arms. “Let me take that.”

  “Wow, we have all those carabiners?” Neil said. “Great.” He looked around. “The room looks better already.”

  “I like making things tidy.” An ingrained habit because if she hadn’t as a kid, one of her foster fathers had hit her.

  “Maybe I can find a job for you,” Tom said.

  He had a look on his face a little like Mike’s. Ally wasn’t used to so many men fancying her. She put it down to being a new girl in a small village.

  “If you’re still looking,” Tom added when she didn’t say anything.

  “What happened between last night and now?” she asked. As if I can’t guess. And Ally still wasn’t sure whether Tom was actually interested in her or more interested in stepping between her and Caspar.

  “A group of women have booked in for a hen party, Sunday and Monday. I’ve not done one of those before. It’s usually corporate bonding sessions where everyone is desperate to come out on top. I need to make the activities more lighthearted so a woman’s opinion would be useful.”

  Now she felt stupid for thinking he fancied her. “Okay.”

  “Like to meet me for a drink tonight and discuss it? I could take you for a meal.”

  Or maybe not. “Sorry. I’m busy.”

  Tom’s jaw tightened. “You’re new around here. If I could give you a word of advice?”

  “Caspar has the plague,” she said. What the hell had he done that had everyone so riled up?

  “You seem really nice,” Neil said.

  “Seem?” Ally raised her eyebrows.

  He blushed. “You are really nice, which is why we need to warn you off Sanderson.”

  She looked from Neil’s face to Tom’s and forced herself to smile. “I’ll consider myself warned. So, what’s Caspar done to you?”

  Neil pressed his lips together and made an mmph sound. “To me? Nothing.”

  “He pisses me off,” said Tom.

  “Is that a crime?” She didn’t try to hide her annoyance.

  “I’ll go back to my ropes,” Neil blurted, and left her with Tom.

  “I was hoping I’d get to you before Caspar,” Tom said. “I should have remembered how fast he works. He finds it easy to…entice women. But they never stay with him long. Not longer than a night, at any rate.” He looked straight at her. “He’s a user, Ally, and you’re sweet. I don’t want to see you get hurt like the others.”

  Ally’s heart thumped hard. “Thank you for your concern.”

  Tom sighed. “Sure you won’t change your mind about tonight?”

  “No, but thanks.”

  Ally breathed out when he shut the door behind him. So Caspar was trouble—well, she knew that already. She wasn’t going to be lured into Caspar’s bed. Ally didn’t sleep with a guy on the night of the first date. She wouldn’t break that rule no matter how tempted.

  Oh God, don’t let him tempt me.

  Sorting out the office wasn’t difficult work, and it was rewarding to find a room underneath all the mess. Nothing like the work she’d done at Paxton’s because Jack had never let things get untidy. Ally had been a general dogsbody, issuing invoices, paying bills and salaries, checking orders for customers, completing export paperwork. Most of it learned on the job.

  Micromanager Jack had been okay to work for, if a touch controlling, but in the last couple of months, he’d started to snap and disappear for long periods. Ally had to field calls from his wife and had begun to wonder if he was having an affair, and if Bella thought the same. He was an idiot if so. Bella was gorgeous. They had three young kids at private school, a huge house in Richmond on Thames and a home in Spain.

  The business didn’t seem to have any problems. They had a steady supply of circuit boards, mobile phones and computer spares from which to extract the valuable metals. Jack bought scrap gold and silver too. They were smelted on-site and sold on. They tended to deal with the same suppliers and same customers except for a few invoices Ally hadn’t recognized and she’d emailed Jack to check that they were okay. Come to think of it, he’d never answered her emails. Well, it didn’t matter now.

  When Jack’s behavior became outright erratic, Ally had wondered if she’d been wrong and the business was in trouble. He stopped her from opening the mail, and after the insurance came due for renewal two months ago, Jack had increased the cover. Ally clearly remembered him saying he wanted to be sure he could start up again if anything happened. Yet following the fire, he’d told the staff he couldn’t face starting up again straightaway and that to be fair to them he’d have to let them go. They got a one-size-fits-all reference and were paid up to the end of the month.

  Ally couldn’t help wondering if the fire had really been an accident.

  Chapter Seven

  Caspar didn’t think he’d ever worked so hard in his life. Once he had the meal prepared and waiting in his fridge to be reheated later, he started to clean. He’d never cared about what the house looked like before, but he did now. He washed the sheets and hung them out to dry while he dusted and vacuumed. Not that he was intending— Oh fuck it, yes he was, given half a chance.

  The bathroom wasn’t bad. Caspar had kept that pretty tidy, but he washed his towel and put out the only other one he had. The sitting room looked terrible. Tatty curtains, a couch and a pile of secondhand paperbacks. Perhaps he’d lure her straight from the kitchen to bed. His bloody cock twitched at the thought.

  The kitchen took longest. He finished with the floor and backed out of the room on his knees as he scrubbed. Now he was the one who was filthy. Time for a shower and a shave.

  By six forty-five, Caspar had the freezing cold sheets back on the bed and the central heating on. After a series of ominous clanks and rumbles, hot water surged into the pipework of four rooms. No point wasting heat on rooms he wouldn’t use.

  Caspar stared in the mirror of his wardrobe and sighed. He should have ironed the white linen shirt he was wearing, but otherwise he didn’t look bad. He ran his fingers through hair he’d hacked at again with kitchen scissors and felt his chin to make sure he’d shaved thoroughly. He couldn’t do much with the shadows under his eyes.

  When he heard the knock, Caspar flew downstairs and
flung open the door.

  Ally held up a bottle. “Wine, woman and song.” She opened her mouth and then closed it. “Best without the song in case there are dogs in the vicinity.”

  The moment she smiled at him, Caspar’s cock rose in his pants. He grabbed the bottle from her hand to hold over his groin. “Thanks.”

  “Wyndale’s best. It was a choice of that or me stamping on a few blackberries.”

  “Come in.”

  She unfastened her coat, tossed it over the newel post and Caspar heard a strangled whimper escape his mouth despite his best efforts to swallow it. She wore a little black dress, little being the operative word. It clung to every inch of her on the way down to…nowhere decent. Her red high heels sported a sparkling flower over her toes and his cock tried to come out to take a look for itself. Caspar jerked his gaze back to her face. Hardly any makeup but red gloss emblazoned her lips. Fuck. He wanted those lips wrapped around his—

  “Too much?” Ally asked, smoothing her hands down her thighs.

  “You look great, but we’re only having beans on toast.” Her face fell and he laughed. “I’m joking.”

  Ally pouted her luscious lips and his cock jerked. “You’re not going to disappoint me over dessert?”

  “I have chocolate.” He gave a little bow.

  “Good, I’m starving.”

  Caspar led her into the kitchen, wondering what he could use to hide his erection after he put the wine down.

  “Oh this is great,” Ally said. “All this space and it looks lovely.”

  Caspar turned, holding a strategically placed dishcloth and smiled at the delight on her face. He’d switched off the main light and only left on the one over the oven. After a struggle, he’d unearthed a pair of candlesticks and found a couple of white stumps to force into the sockets. The tableware didn’t match nor did the glasses or cutlery, but he’d resurrected linen napkins and twisted rings to hold them. In the semi-dark, it didn’t look bad. He wished he had champagne to offer, wished he had a chair to sit on rather than two heaped boxes of books, but Ally’s face shone and she was looking at him, not the table.