Back One Snowy Night
Chapters (38)
  1. Cover
  2. RITA BRADSHAW
  3. Dedication page
  4. Acknowledgements
  5. PART ONE
  6. Chapter One
  7. Chapter Two
  8. Chapter Three
  9. Chapter Four
  10. Chapter Five
  11. PART TWO
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. PART THREE
  19. Chapter Twelve
  20. Chapter Thirteen
  21. Chapter Fourteen
  22. Chapter Fifteen
  23. Chapter Sixteen
  24. Chapter Seventeen
  25. Chapter Eighteen
  26. Chapter Nineteen
  27. Chapter Twenty
  28. PART FOUR
  29. Chapter Twenty-One
  30. Chapter Twenty-Two
  31. Chapter Twenty-Three
  32. Chapter Twenty-Four
  33. Chapter Twenty-Five
  34. Chapter Twenty-Six
  35. Chapter Twenty-Seven
  36. Epilogue
  37. One Snowy Night
  38. By Rita Bradshaw

‘I’ve taken a week’s holiday. Even entrepreneurs like me need the occasional break.’

She was completely taken aback. ‘But you never said anything yesterday.’ She had been at Foreburn for lunch and he’d had plenty of opportunity.

‘I’m saying now.’

‘But I’m going to be cleaning and painting and . . .’ Her voice trailed away. ‘Oh, this is ridiculous. I bet you’ve never held a paintbrush in your life.’

‘Well, that is where you are wrong. I do a very fine watercolour, as it happens.’

‘I didn’t mean that sort of painting.’

‘I know what you meant, Ruby.’ He wasn’t smiling now. ‘And I can assure you I can get my hands dirty as well as the next man.’ He turned, walking away from her and still talking. ‘Clarissa will be along at lunchtime with refreshments for the workers so I suggest we get started? I know you need to get the flat clean and I do agree that rather pungent smell needs to go, so I presume we start upstairs? I also know you’ve got a builder coming by later to discuss the alterations down here.’

‘But—’

He turned, the smile back as he said, ‘For once, just once, don’t argue, Ruby. Let me help you. It’s what friends are for, after all. And I come bearing gifts, I might add – every kind of cleaning product on the market is in the boot of my car.’

‘Oh, Edward.’ She didn’t know if she wanted to kiss him or hit him. In the event she did neither. ‘Some holiday this will be.’

‘My choice.’ The mercurial grey eyes that could be a soft dove-grey or might darken to a stormy sky on occasion held an expression she couldn’t quite fathom. Their gaze locked for a moment and then he said easily, ‘I’ll bring in those things from the car, shall I? And you’ll need to boil some water on the stove. A couple of the packets said something about mixing with hot water to get the best effect.’

‘Right.’ She suppressed a grin. He sounded almost knowledgeable. And this was kind of him, but . . . She pushed the but aside. Friends. That’s what he’d said. And that is what she would treat this as, one friend helping another. She wouldn’t think beyond that.