Between Heaven and Rock (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 3)

Total Tottington

And 2 out of 2.

K. <3

***

A week and a half later...

Ulla jumped out of the car, stuffing her keys in her pocket and pulling up the strap of her messenger bag that kept sliding off her shoulder.

"Morning, Miss Svensson," James Whitlaw said, walking towards her along the pathway.

"James," she said coldly.

"I was just dropping off a small gift for our dear vicar," he said and pointed behind him with his thumb. "Well, and for you too, I suppose. To enjoy it vicariously. Ha, 'vicar-iously!'"

Ulla gave him an exasperated look.

"I brought Oli his weight set. We used to work out together, lifting weights and such, since we're in the brigade together," the blond said. "He's let himself go recently, so I reckoned he'd need his equipment from the station. Give him a few weeks, and you'll get to enjoy a much more hench vicar."

"Right," Ulla drew out venomously. "Since a triple compound fracture isn't an excuse to miss an arm and shoulder day. God forbid, his vanity muscles shrink, and he looks less like the British Bulldog." She scoffed and gestured all over him. "Or just a bulldog."

She walked around him and marched to the door. At the porch she exhaled sharply and turned around.

"James!"

He turned around, already near his pick-up truck, and looked at her.

"I'd normally leave it at that," she said. "You know, hoping you'd understand what a prick you are, on your own, in your own time. But I've been feeling a certain sense of enlightenment recently, so I'll go down on your level and explain to you that even if there were anything going on between Reverend Holyoake and me, you'd be one of the last people entitled to an opinion on it. The fact that you've known him longer than some gives you exactly zero right to judge, and especially to blather. And exactly because of his position in the village, your 'locker room humour' is especially inappropriate, and reflects poorly mostly on you."

His face set in harsh lines, and she gave him a fake polite smile and turned around.

"If there were anything going on between you two, heh?" he said behind her, and she looked at him again. He grinned. "That's what you said. If there 'were' anything going on. Not there 'was.'"

"He's a bloody priest, James," Ulla exclaimed. "And we work together. I am his editor, and not his doxy as some people seem to assume."

He looked her over.

"Do I owe you an apology?" he asked. "I feel like I should apologise."

Oh. Maybe not that much of a prick. Still a tosser nonetheless.

"I'm not your mother, James. Make your own choices," she grumbled.

"Would you like to grab a beer with me?" he said.

She once again turned around.

"What?"

"After work," he said with a chuckle. "When you're done being Oli's editor for the day. How about tomorrow? There's an excellent pub in the next town. The Oak and Shield. They have ace meat and kidney pies."

She looked him over with a small grimace. OK, he's not bad. Don't even think about it, Ulla. Don't make your already botched up situation in this lovely village even more complicated.