The Big Little Festival

CHAPTER THREE

Focus.

Christian forced himself to read the words on the laptop, but for the first time in a long time the screes of plans and ideas he had for an event held little to no interest. Not when his mind was filled with images of curling blonde hair that bounced on sun-kissed shoulders, tanned legs so long they looked like they could give The Shard a run for its money, and the tantalising hint of divinely curved breasts.

Damn it! The last thing he needed was to have the hots for a woman he was supposed to be working with. The building blocks to success did not include romance. He’d learnt that time and time again when his previous attempts at relationships had gone south when his girlfriends began to put pressure on him to cut back on the hours he spent at work so they could spend more time together. Further proving his suspicion that having both fairy tale-style love and a career was impossible. The only compromise was partnership, two people supporting each other to further each other’s success. An arrangement his parents had down pat. A united front at work functions. But behind the door of their family home? Short, sharp and dismissive summed it up. The only time kind words were exchanged was when a goal was met. A win had. It was the only way he’d received any attention. Not that his decision to go into event management was taken seriously by them. No doubt when his recent failure became public knowledge they’d pop open a bottle of champagne…

He pulled up a budgeting template and pushed the self-pity away. Self-pity was not what winners were made of. And even though he’d not followed the family into law or medicine as expected, he’d still become the best in his field. And he wasn’t going to let one stupid error derail everything he’d built.

A scuffle outside his bedroom door caught his attention.

‘You’re a cock-up,’ a voice yelled.

‘No, you are. Your face is a cock-up.’ The retaliation was met with another round of scuffling.

What the hell was going on out there? Why was Tony allowing people to fight in his establishment? When Jody had mentioned his accommodation she’d assured him that, despite its being above a pub, it wouldn’t be rowdy.

‘Boys. Do I need to hide your tablet again?’ The stern warning put a stop to the fighting.

Three sharp raps on his door followed. Shit, Jody was here to see him. He peered at the time on the laptop. Of course she was, they had a meeting. Which she’d brought her sons to. Something she’d not mentioned and something he couldn’t condone. If he’d wanted to work with kids he’d have been a teacher.

He marched to the door, his head full of rebukes, pulled it opened, and all his words of chastisement disappeared as the air whooshed from his stomach at the sight before him. Jody’s two young lads, with those matching sandy-blond curls, mischievous grins and knobbly knees peeping out below denim cut-offs, were smiling up at their mum with absolute adoration as she ruffled their curls. Her smile as big as theirs, with every bit as much love. This was what he’d always imagined a family would be like. A proper family. Love, laughter, teasing. Not cold, distant and perfunctory.

Jody looked up in surprise. ‘Oh, that was quick. I’ve only just knocked.’

‘Well, I could’ve heard you coming from two towns away.’ Christian swung the door open all the way and indicated for them to come in. ‘You didn’t tell me you were bringing them.’

‘“Them” have names. Tyler, Jordan, you remember Christian.’

The boys glared at him with open hostility. ‘He ruined our fun.’ Tyler narrowed his eyes.

‘Yeah. We were having a good time until he yelled at us.’ Jordan scratched at a scab on his elbow. ‘How did he not know it was a slide anyway? For an adult that’s pretty dumb.’

A pretty flush of pink hit Jody’s cheeks. ‘Sorry about these two. You’ll get used to them.’

Get used to them? What? Christian shut the door behind them. ‘Um, what do you mean, “get used to them”? They’re not going to be coming with you to all our meetings, are they?’

Jody nodded. ‘Sure they are. We’re a package deal. They go where I go.’

‘But that’s hardly professional.’ The gentle rhythmic thud of Christian’s heart began to pick up pace. This wasn’t how business was done. How was he going to ensure the festival went off without a hitch with two young people getting in the middle of things? And if the festival didn’t go off without a hitch? Goodbye career, hello humble pie.

‘You want me. You want my family.’ Jody’s hands left the boys’ shoulders and flew to her hips, her chin tilted. ‘The boys and I are a unit. We stick together. Also, there’s no one to take care of them.’

‘What about your brother? Or your friend I met earlier?’ Christian had a feeling he was clutching at straws, but wasn’t giving up easily.

‘Tony has The Bullion to run. His fiancée, Mel, helps him when she’s not running her café. Serena is on the farm most of the day and, frankly, I don’t know that she’s responsible enough to handle the two boys. She’d probably take them on a ramble and lose them.’

‘Your mum? Your dad? Their dad?’ Christian sank onto his bed as the world began to tip a little sideways. Was the room too small for four people? Because it felt like he was losing oxygen.

‘My mum passed away when I was five. My father passed away not long ago. And, their father is… not on the scene.’ The last four words were soft, but there was no missing the steely tone. The boys’ father was not a topic up for discussion when the boys were around.

Christian ran his hand through his hair. ‘Okay, so they’re coming with us.’ He turned his gaze on the boys. ‘We’re going to have to set some rules, though. If your mother or I are talking to an adult, you can’t interrupt. And you can’t get rowdy like you were out in the corridor. Consider yourself Rabbits Leap ambassadors. Pretend you’re fine, upstanding young men… or something.’

‘Pretend?’ Jody frowned, but a smirk threated to ruin her act.

‘Fine.’ Christian grinned. ‘Act like the fine, upstanding young men I know you to be. And no saying “cock-up”. At least not within the earshot of adults.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the boys chorused, saluting Christian. Their little faces solemn, their eyes glinting with good humour.

Christian fought the urge to reach out and ruffle their hair as Jody had done earlier. They were good kids. But it was better he kept his distance. Rabbits Leap was only a pit stop until he was sure things were going to blow over back home. There was no point forming attachments. Especially as he was incapable of living up to any “attachments” expectations.

‘I was also thinking they’d be quite good if we do end up needing a swing vote.’ Jody leaned against the windowsill.

‘But there’s two of them? What if they can’t agree? And do we really want to put the decisions in the hands of, what… a couple of eight-year-olds?’

‘Hey! We’re nine.’ Jordan stamped his foot and folded his arms across his chest.

‘Sorry. Nine-year-olds then.’ Christian nodded an apology to Jordan and Tyler, then looked over at Jody. ‘But really? We have to take this seriously.’

‘I am. This is a family festival. It’s for people of all ages. And who knows better what kids like than kids? Besides, they rarely disagree on anything. And if they do we’ll flip a coin. Or we’ll get Mrs Harper’s opinion.’

Christian’s heart broke out into another trot. ‘No, no need to get Mrs Harper involved. We’ll flip a coin.’

Jody’s smirk blossomed into a grin, one that revealed a cute dimple on her left cheek. What would it be like to touch, to kiss? The thought rose unbidden. What the hell was going on with him?

Christian leapt off the bed. Now was not the time to be thinking amorous thoughts. Now was the time to work. He could think amorous thoughts another time, about another woman. Definitely another woman. One not so obviously family-focused. One who would understand that work and winning came first. ‘Look, this room is no place for a meeting. It’s small. Cramped.’ And feeling more cramped by the second as he realised that Jody’s white paint-spattered tank top was ever so slightly see-through, revealing a hint of her bra. Lacy, latte-coloured. And housing two things he really shouldn’t be thinking about. ‘We need to get out, now.’ He charged for the door and made his way down the hallway, down the stairs and into The Bullion’s dining area, only knowing he was being followed because of the bang of his bedroom door closing, followed by multiple thumps of feet on floorboards closing in behind him.

***

What the heck had just gone on? Jody pondered as she stared at Christian’s back, which wasn’t so much taking the lead as beating some kind of retreat. One minute they were discussing the boys’ involvement, the next he’d bounded off the bed and bolted from the room.

But there had been a moment before that. A moment she thought she’d imagined. Or perhaps wanted to imagine. His eyes had flicked down, lingered on her top. Her chest. Then his eyes had widened, and he’d been up and gone. A man on a mission. Or a man looking to escape whatever was on his mind.

And what had been on his mind? Her? Jody glanced down at her top and saw it through new eyes. A man’s eyes. Oh. Her old painting tank top was a little see-through. And her bra was perhaps a little alluring. Not that she was trying to lure anyone with it. It was just there to hold up her boobs.

A shiver trailed its way down her spine. Why did she suddenly feel as if she’d exposed herself to Christian? Why hadn’t she brought another top in case it got chilly? Because it was summer. A warmer than usual summer at that. And why did she have a feeling things were only going to get hotter? Jody clenched her jaw. Nope. No heat here. Nothing steamy at all.

She followed the boys into the dining room and looked for the iced-water pitcher Tony always had filled and ready for customers. What she needed to do was drench herself in that, cool off… and give Christian a view of everything. Wet T-shirt competition styles. No. No water. She just needed to continue ignoring the fact that he was the hottest man she’d seen in years, while continuing to remember her number-one rule. No. Men. Allowed. Not until her boys were men. That was her rule and she was sticking with it.

And then what? The shiver returned, needling her conscience. And then what? Then she’d find another excuse, another way to keep her heart locked up, wrapped in chains and buried down a concrete-filled well.

‘Mum.’ Tyler tugged at her hand. ‘Where is Christian going?’

Jody gripped Tyler’s hand. Her boys were what mattered. They needed to grow up knowing they were all that mattered to her. They weren’t to feel like a second thought, the way she had growing up. She gave Tyler’s hand a squeeze. ‘No idea, T. Let’s follow him and find out, shall we?’

The three of them picked up their pace as they half walked half ran after Christian, who was storming down the main street, head down, shoulders hunched. He stalked past the butcher’s, passed Mel’s Café, didn’t look twice at the village hall, and continued up towards the school.

Her arms began to ache and she looked down to see the boys lagging behind her. Their chests heaving with exertion. ‘Christian!’ she called. ‘You’ve got to slow down. Our legs aren’t as long as yours!’

‘Nearly there,’ he yelled back.

To her relief he began to slow down. Then stopped. In front of the old pool, she realised.

‘Come on, boys, we might as well see what this madman is up to.’ They traipsed over to where Christian was standing, his eyes trained on the mural painted on the brick wall that separated the pool from the community.

‘Do you like it?’ asked Jody as she took in the picture she knew like the back of her hand. A fifty-by-ten-feet painting, filled with images of the Leap, from the town’s oldest resident, Mr Muir, hunched over his daily crossword, to a younger, laughing Mrs Harper washing a shopfront window, to her own boys frolicking in the pool – not that they’d had the opportunity as it had been out of commission well before they were born. The lives of the local residents were backed by the rolling Rabbits Leap hills, criss-crossed with hedgerows and stone walls, a clear blue sky hugging the hills. She considered it her greatest work. And hoped one day, once the boys were older, she’d be able to seriously work on her art. Take on commissions. Make enough money to realise the one dream she’d had before the boys were born, to travel through Europe seeing her favourite works of art in the flesh, not on some computer screen or in the pages of a coffee-table book.

‘It’s great. The artist really captured the boys. Their light. Their happiness. Their joy. You can almost feel the coolness of the water. I can see the wisdom coming from that gentleman. And Mrs Harper’s raucous joy. The artist is talented.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and took a picture of the mural.

‘The artist is me,’ said Jody. The words came out more shyly than she’d hoped for.

‘Wow, a sculptress and a painter. You really are very talented. Do you do it for a living?’

Jody shook her head. ‘No. It’s just something I do when I have some spare time. Looking after the boys and the day-to-day work on the farm keep me busy enough.’

‘You’re a farmer too? Like Serena?’ Christian’s lips quirked in disbelief.

Jody refrained from rolling her eyes. ‘Yes, I’m a farmer. Sort of. It was my grandparents’ farm and it was passed on to me when they passed away. Except I don’t know all that much about farming, so I’ve a farm worker, Jack. He does the hard work. I tend to do more of the managerial side of things. Not that I know much about managing anything, but it seems the story of my life is being plunged into a deep pool and being told I can sink or swim.’

Christian’s eyes darted between the two boys. ‘Well, it seems you’re very good at swimming.’

‘I could be better. It’d be nice for the farm to make enough money to not just pay Jack and the household bills, but for the boys and I to go on holidays. Do more than meander around this place. Still, I can’t complain. We’ve a roof over our heads and enough coming in that we’re fed and clothed.’

Christian’s eyes flicked down, then quickly up. Jody crossed her arms over her chest and wished she’d sprung for a better-quality tank top, preferably made of inch-thick opaque material.

Christian, as if sensing her discomfort, changed the subject. ‘So, now we’re out of that tiny, cramped space and at the source of inspiration to remind us why we’re going to make the festival a runaway success, let’s brainstorm. Let’s combine ideas. Work out what we can do with the space and time available, then get the rest of the committee to secure what we need.’

‘Well, I really liked the idea of replicating the Rabbit Revolt. I could design the costumes. There’s a local group that are keen on sewing, the Stitch ‘n’ Snitch club. They come together every week to sew. And gossip. Mostly gossip,’ Jody admitted. ‘We could get them to whip up the costumes. And, like you suggested, the local kids could play the rabbits.’

‘Mum!?’ Tyler wailed. ‘It’s school holidays. That sounds like we have to take part in a school play.’

‘And I hate taking part in plays,’ Jordan moaned. ‘They always make me be a statue of some sort.’

‘Because you can’t remember your lines,’ Tyler snickered.

‘Shut up, Tyler. At least I didn’t have to dance with a girl like you did in the last one.’

‘Yeah, that was gross.’ Tyler stuck his tongue out and faux-gagged. ‘I’m not dancing with girls at the festival. Okay?’

Christian regarded the boys seriously. ‘So, if we don’t have dancing, you’re in? And you think the rest of the local kids will get onboard?’

Unexpected warmth flooded Jody. It was good to see the boys interacting with a man on a man-to-man level. They didn’t get that a lot. Tony was always working, and her farm worker, Jack, was always out in the fields, so their role models were few and far between. A fist tightened around her heart as guilt niggled at her. Would her refusal to give a relationship a chance, to get close to another man, mean they were missing out on something special?

‘We’ll get them onboard. We’ll remind them it’s for the pool and how cool it would be to have bombing competitions once it’s opened.’ Jordan stuck his hand out. ‘So it’s a deal.’

The niggle deepened as Jody watched the boys and Christian solemnly shake hands all round. Christian showing them how to shake hands in an authoritative manner. Why hadn’t she thought to teach them to shake hands like that? They’d be out in the real world one day and if they had wet-fish handshakes no one would take them seriously. She pushed the guilt away. It wasn’t going to help matters, and besides, this wasn’t about them or her, this was about making amends to the community. In a super-secret, stealth manner.

‘Right.’ She cleared her throat. ‘So that’s sorted. What else can we do to ensure this is the festival to end all festivals? A Ferris wheel? A carousel?’

Christian looked up from tapping on his phone. ‘All good ideas. But we need to remember there’s only so much space.’ He stroked his chin thoughtfully. ‘Hmmm, we’re surrounded by hills, and farms, and it’s a fundraiser for a pool. I feel there’s something there…’ He gazed off into the distance. ‘I’ve got it! We could do a giant slip and slide and create one of those makeshift pools using hay bales. People would love it! People could pay for, say, a thirty-minute swim and they could pay per slide. Can’t you just imagine it? They’d come from all over to have a swim and a slide. Hell, we could try and make it a world-record thing. The world’s longest slip and slide.’

Jody found herself nodding enthusiastically. ‘That could be cool. Really cool. And maybe, if we do go for the record, the local news might pick it up and that could bring us some promotion.’

‘Local news? Oh no, let’s go regional. No, national. Why do a little when you can do a lot. More is more, Jody. More is more.’

Christian dropped down onto the grass, then grabbed her hand and pulled her down beside him. Close. Their knees brushed and those volts of energy surged, up her thigh, straight to the area she’d purposefully ignored for the last decade. She inched her knee away, and then pulled her hand out of Christian’s, ignoring how empty it suddenly felt. And how perfect it had felt being held by a strong and capable hand, as opposed to two soft young ones.

‘Jody, this wonderful mural of yours needs to have the people of Rabbits Leap milling in front of it every summer as they wait for the pool to open. And I think the water theme combined with the anniversary of the eviction of the rabbits is going to take this little festival of yours to the next level.’

‘Well, then. Let’s do it! Let’s make it happen.’ Jody paused, uncertainty coiled in her belly. ‘Um, Christian? How are we going to make this happen?’

Christian threw his head back and laughed. Deep, chocolatey. Sexy too.