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

Good Job

Reading the last eight chapters - five from before, and the three he'd edited the day before - of his incongruous aberration - his words again - was exactly what Ulla needed to properly distract herself from the fact that he was... a priest. Nope, still makes you jerk, Ulla. Maybe you should practice in front of a mirror. Priest. Yeah, see, you've just shuddered a tad.

She took a quick shower and sat on the bed while her knickers dried, pondering her current conundrum. What exactly was it that made her so perplexed and flabbergasted? His convoluted verbosity is rubbing off on you, innit? Maybe, the barney was that she liked him. Once the first mental percussion from his attractiveness had passed, she properly started enjoying being around him. And his abominable writing was in a way just a confirmation that he was just a normal bloke. And no matter how certain she'd been that she was over the whole dating aggro, she wondered. Resisting his mind-blowing sex appeal was a piece of cake. To stop fawning over him and hiding from herself how much she enjoyed his mild manners and his sense of humour? That would be an aggro.

Ulla climbed out from under the duvet and headed to the laundry room to pick up her knickers - when a doorbell rang through the house. Oliver Holyoake was an exceptionally tall man, so his jumper covered her backside - but still, should she open the door in this state? Poor locals, she thought, shrugged, and walked to the entrance door.

She opened and pulled up a polite smile.

"Good morning," said a pleasant middle-age woman standing on the porch.

"Morning," Ulla answered. "May I help you?"

"My name is Charlotte Glossop," the woman introduced herself. "I'm the Holyoakes' neighbour. I live in the Willows." She pointed at the next cottage. "Mrs. Holyoake asked me to look after the cottage and stop by from time to time while they're away, seeing that the Reverend Holyoake has his injury."

What's this screech? Ah, that would be the cogs in Ulla's noggin grinding. 'The Reverend Holyoake.' Blimey.

"Reverend Holyoake has an appointment," Ulla answered. "He'll be back by lunch."

"And I assume he doesn't need my assistance, seeing you're here," the woman said with a warm laugh. You did help him to get dressed and sliced his bread for his marmalade toast, Ulla. "Nor my presence here, I assume."

"I'll let him know you stopped by," Ulla said.

"Thank you," Mrs. Glossop said, said her goodbyes, and left.

Ulla closed the door and rubbed her thighs. Her lady's parts were feeling baltic. She needed more coffee.

***

He entered the cottage, Ulla heard his keys clank, when he dropped them on the shelf, and he stuck his head into the kitchen.

"Hiya," he said.

Ulla looked at him over her Mac.

"What're you doing?" he asked. What's with the playful tone? It's like he's happy to see her.

"Researching hagiography," she answered.

"Oh, lovely," he said and disappeared in the hall again. "Could you help me to undress, please?"

And to think of it, in any other situation it would sound so promising!

When she stepped out, he'd half taken off his parka and had towed off his shoes, and was struggling with his long navy blue scarf.

"Let me– let me help you!" she said, stretching her hands to him. "Blimey, you're like Laocoön."

He stopped wiggling and flailing his left hand, and gave her a surprised look.