Page 49 of Settling the Score (The Karma Club #4)

He gestured to her to lead the way and, leaving the cage behind, she headed in the indicated direction.

Her wellies squeaked – of course they did – against the blonde birch floorboards as he followed her into the triple glazed quiet of the house.

A light, Scandi-inspired open-plan living, kitchen and dining space unfolded in an understated elegance only achieved by a high-end interior decorator.

A bowl of shiny green apples on the dining table was the only pop of colour amidst all the white on white. Apart from the ocean, of course. A span of bifold glass doors dominated the far end, opening onto a deck and an absolutely spectacular view of the pounding surf.

‘Oh wow,’ she murmured on a breathy exhale as she squeaked to the doors and stared out transfixed.

Oliver couldn’t blame her; there was something elemental about the sight of a wild, stormy sea.

He’d lived on Redondo Beach in California since he’d been fifteen and that was breathtaking in a sunny, sparkly, Pacific kind of way.

But, given his disposition these past months, the moody, changeable Atlantic was more his style.

Of course, that could just be his guilty conscience.

He was struck, as he watched her watch the ocean, by how colourful she was amid all the blinding Scandi pallor. Like some exotic bird silhouetted against the glass. Red hair, pink cardi, lime-green T-shirt. A splash of rainbow amidst the greyscale.

A bright orange lifebuoy floating atop the swirling background sea.

Jesus … Oliver rubbed the back of his neck. Pull yourself together, knob head . Now was not the time for a flight of fancy or to channel sodding Shakespeare.

‘Help yourself to whatever’s in the fridge or the cupboards,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘It’s a bit bare considering there’s usually just me but I get a delivery from St Ives every week to restock. Let me know if there’s anything in particular you need.’

‘Oh, did Bella mention?’ She turned from the window. ‘I’m vegan. And gluten intolerant.’

Well, of course she was…

Not that it phased him. Nearly the entire population of LA were gluten intolerant and about 50 per cent of his friends were vegan.

‘It’s okay,’ she assured. ‘I’ll go into town tomorrow and grab some things.’

Oliver nodded. ‘The bedrooms are on the second floor.’ He gestured to the stairs. ‘If you want to follow me?’

He led the way, the carpeted stairs providing sweet relief from the incessant squeak of her shoes. ‘That’s your bedroom there,’ he said when they’d reached the next floor, pointing to the right, down the thirty feet of hallway that separated the two rooms on this level. ‘No sea view, I’m afraid.’

‘I’m sure it’s lovely,’ she demurred. She glanced at the door to his bedroom. ‘Yours? Or are you’ – she tipped her chin at the staircase ascending another level – ‘up there?’

Oliver shook his head. ‘That was my dad’s room.’

All the bedrooms were luxuriously appointed with their own bathrooms but the one at top was the pick of the bunch.

It took up the entire floor, the windows taking in the grand arc of Porthmeor Beach from the artisan cafés and restaurants of St Ives at the south end to St Nicholas’s chapel on the headland to the north, a 180-degree view of ocean in between.

It was criminal that it was being unused. But Oliver couldn’t bring himself to go there. His father’s clothes still hung in the closet. His towel still hung on the towel rack. His cufflinks still lay on the night stand. And his aftershave still scented the air.

‘I was sorry to hear about his passing.’

Her commiserations were gentle but walloped him nonetheless. Since his father’s death two years ago, condolences had long dried up. It seemed the rest of the world had moved on – why hadn’t he?

Oliver hoped his tight smile wasn’t as pained as it felt. ‘Thank you.’ He gestured back down the stairs. ‘There’s a media room in the basement.’

He didn’t wait around to see if she was interested in a tour of that as well, he just hit the stairs and led the way down. He was conscious she was following though, a dazzling kaleidoscope of colour in his peripheral vision confirming her presence a few steps behind.

Hans Gruber’s face was still frozen on the screen when they entered. The TV took up half the wall and below it, flush with the plaster, a long, sleek, artificial fireplace aglow with the dance of orange LED flames kept the room toasty warm.

Outside it was Vladivostok. Inside it was Margaritaville.

In warmer climes, the doors situated behind a dark, remote-controlled blind, opened straight onto the beach but Oliver hadn’t opened them since the beginning of November.

The room was expensively furnished with three couches – one triple, two singles – grouped in front of the fireplace.

Large, black bookshelves containing an impressive library of CDs, lined the walls either side.

On top of the shelves sat his father’s awards, subtle ceiling downlights positioned to illuminate them just so.

Five Oliviers, four BAFTAs, three Golden Globes, two Tonys, one Oscar. And a partridge in a pear tree.

‘Aren’t you a month too late for Die Hard ?’

Oliver dragged his gaze from the intimidating ranks of his father’s success. ‘What?’

‘It’s a Christmas movie,’ she said, once again regarding him like he wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed. ‘And you’re watching it in January.’

Oh hell no. She was one of them . ‘Just because a movie happens to be set during Christmas does not make it a Christmas movie.’

For a moment he thought he saw her lips twitch before they pulled into an irritated little moue. ‘It’s set on Christmas Eve. There’s a Christmas party going on. There’s a massive Christmas tree right there in the foyer of Nakatomi Plaza. It has Christmas music. His wife is called Holly !’

‘Right. Which merely makes it… Christmas adjacent.’ Seriously, he shouldn’t need to explain this. ‘A classic Christmas movie has to have a certain vibe.’

She frowned. ‘Like what?’

‘Warmth, joy, hopefulness. Jesus. Peace, love, goodwill to all men. A Christmas message.’

‘I think “ Don’t mess with John McClane on Christmas Eve ” is a pretty clear message.’

‘Exactly. The levels of action and violence absolutely rule it out of the Christmas movie canon.’

She shot him an incredulous look. ‘Have you never watched Home Alone ?’

Oliver grimaced. She’d been in his home for ten minutes and he was already regretting it. He certainly didn’t want to have this argument with someone who didn’t appreciate the nuance of cinematic mores. ‘It looks like we’re going to have to agree to disagree.’

‘Okay.’ She shrugged and Oliver almost sighed out loud that she’d dropped it so easily. ‘I’ll tell you what else it is, though. It’s a romance.’

Had Oliver been consuming some kind of food or drink right now, he’d have probably choked to death. No. Nope. Abso-fucking-lutely no way . ‘Um, no. It’s an action film.’

She sighed with an exaggerated kind of patience he imagined she used when catching Bunky feeding Flower rodent crack. ‘It’s a romance.’

‘He blows up the Nakatomi Plaza.’

‘Yeah, but he’s not doing it for shits and giggles, is he?’

‘No, he’s doing it because he’s a cop. To get the baddies. It’s instinct. And he’s that kind of guy.’

Another sigh. ‘Yes, you’re right, he is that kind of guy.

But he’s not doing it for law enforcement or to save all those bearer bonds or for the Nakatomi organisation.

He’s doing it for her. For his wife. The stakes would be nowhere near as high for him if it was just random people.

He’s doing it for the woman he loves.’ She crossed her arms as if resting her case. ‘Romance.’

Until a few minutes ago, Oliver would have disagreed vehemently that the film could be classified as a romance and he was still of that opinion. But Paige had definitely made him look at it from a different angle.

And, on top of everything else, that was seriously fucking maddening.

‘Let me guess,’ she said, ‘this is your favourite scene?’

‘It is actually,’ Oliver confirmed, annoyed at the defensiveness in his tone. ‘I take it it’s not yours?’

‘No, it’s mine too. Ever since Alan Rickman gave that office tart a necklace at Christmas and broke Emma Thompson’s heart, anyway.’

She smiled at him then like she hadn’t just conflated a character’s deserved comeuppance in one film with their actions in another. From fifteen years later.

Who even did that?

‘Would you mind if I went and settled in? I’ve got some unpacking to do and some work to catch up on and I shouldn’t leave Flower too long in unfamiliar surroundings.’

Oliver shook his head. Frankly he needed a stiff drink and a good lie down.

‘Thanks so much for this, Oliver.’ She crossed to him then and, without a second’s hesitation, wrapped her arms around him in a quick, hard hug. ‘I promise, you won’t even know I’m here,’ she said as she pulled out of his stiff embrace and headed for the stairs, a living, breathing rainbow.

Somehow, Oliver entirely doubted it.

* * *

The next morning, Oliver stirred slowly through the layers of sleep.

Something was warm and heavy on his chest and there were four little pin pricks of pain.

His hand lifted to soothe them at the same time his lashes fluttered open to find two little black eyes, a twitching nose and a wild mop of fur staring right at him.

‘Jesus Christ!’ he hissed, startling himself out of bed.

Belatedly, he remembered from his midnight googling session that hamsters were exceptionally sensitive to being startled. Like, they could literally just drop dead from a sudden fright. Thankfully the displaced hamster staring up at him calm-as-you-please , appeared to be made of sterner stuff.

The same could not be said for Oliver. He pressed his hand to his thundering heart. ‘Bloody hell, Pavarotti.’ He refused to call the animal, Flower . ‘I could have had a heart attack.’

The hamster seemed unconcerned by the news and irritation bloomed as the digital numbers on his bedside clock told him it had only just gone six. The darkened room seemed to concur. Not a morning person, Oliver hadn’t seen 6a.m. in a very long time.

He frowned at the rodent currently sniffing his pillow. How did the little fucker not only manage to escape his cage but get in here? He’d shut the door, hadn’t he? Glancing across, he could see it stood slightly ajar. Enough space for a small animal to squeeze through.

Although quite how Pavarotti had managed it, he had no idea.

Well… this wouldn’t do. If he had to suffer a rodent-related animal in his house, it was through the bars of a cage only!

Without giving it much thought or even stopping to put on a shirt, he scooped the animal up, yanked the door fully open and stormed down the hallway in his boxers. He did knock but he didn’t give her time to answer, barging in, determined to lay down some rules.

‘Your damn hamster was in my bed,’ he accused.

It was less dark in her room, her blinds not all the way down, giving him a very good view as she sat, one hand pushing her mop of hair off her face, the other clutching the sheet to her chest revealing bare shoulders.

Oh Jesus. Was she naked under there?

‘What?’ she asked, blinking at him blearily, her voice sleep husky.

She had freckles on her shoulders he absently noticed. And down her bare arms. It made him wonder where else she might have them.

Christ alive. Stop thinking about her freckles, you fucking perv.

‘The hamster.’ Oliver dropped the animal who landed with a soft thud onto the cloud-like layers of the feather duvet, arms and legs akimbo like some kind of coiffed flying squirrel. ‘It got out of its cage.’

‘I’m so sorry.’ She sat forward a little, reaching for the animal, which made things shift very nicely beneath the sheet. ‘He is a bit of an escape artist. I should have mentioned.’

Oliver suppressed the urge to say, Ya think ? as she brought the fluff ball to her chest, rubbing her face against the manic spring of fur covering his head. It looked soft and pillowy where he was nestled and Pavarotti shut his eyes, clearly in a state of bliss.

And damn if Oliver wasn’t insanely jealous of a hamster.

Annoyed at just about everything right now, he grouched, ‘Don’t let it happen again,’ before turning quickly on his heel and getting the hell out of Dodge.

* * *

Just Desserts WhatsApp group. 06.15GMT.

Paige

OMG lovelies! I’ve not even been here for 24 hours and it’s working out better than I could ever have planned.

Realising it was after midnight in the US and she was unlikely to get an answer just yet, Paige went to put the phone down but three little dots appeared.

Astrid

Tell us everyyyyyything!!!!

Ah, okay, Astrid was up.

Paige

That Die Hard info from Bella was golden! I thought he was going to have apoplexy when I told him it was a romance.

Bella’s name appeared on the screen with three little dots. She was up, too?

Bella

So pleased you could use it.

Paige

That’s not even the cherry on top.

Dots next to Sienna’s name also now joined the party.

Sienna

Okay, all the pinging woke me. What? Whaaaaat????

Paige

Sorry, crappy timing, I didn’t think. Too excited not to share. I let the hamster loose in his bedroom last night and it crawled into bed with him. He’s just stormed into my room, grumpy AF.

Bella

Oh I’d have loved to be a fly on the wall for that!

Astrid

What’s the agenda for today?

Paige

Operation kitchen chaos. Seriously, I could take somebody’s appendix out in there! I mean, don’t get me wrong, I like order as well but this is next level. I wouldn’t be surprised if just standing in it makes a person sterile. It has to go…

Bella

He’ll hate that. I love it!

Astrid

Ha! You’ve so got this

Sienna

Bwahhahahahahahaha