The Missing Party-Girl: A Rags-to-Riches Cozy Mystery Romance by Nhys Glover (read after .txt) 📗

Soho, where she’d had every right to act territorial. If he wanted to hook up with this woman, he was well within his rights to do so.

“How long are you staying in the area?” Jayne purred, continuing on like a long-range missile that had found its target.

“As long as it takes,” Cage deflected easily.

Was it wishful thinking, or was Cage growing annoyed by this woman’s intrusive inquisition? He tended to be a very private person, and having a stranger interrogating him in the name of pleasant conversation seemed to rub him the wrong way.

Dave must have noticed as well, because he slung an arm around the pretty girl’s waist and gave her a squeeze. “Now, now, Jayney. You don’t get to fire off questions the rest of the village has been polite enough not to ask. Leave the poor lad alone, now.”

Jayney laughed. “Sorry. It comes with the territory. Not only is my mum the principal source of information in the village, but I’m a reporter. Or I’m working towards being a reporter. I’d love to interview you for our paper some time, Cage.”

“Why?” he asked, his tone steely now.

She fluttered her eyelids in surprise. Did no one ever ask that question? Or did she expect everyone to be panting to get their five minutes of fame?

“Well, Minerva Reynolds was a celebrity…” she bleated out desperately, obviously scrambling for some answer that he’d accept.

“Then you’d want to interview Adie, her niece, wouldn’t you? I never met the woman. As I said, I’m just helping out a friend.”

At last Jayne seemed to get the message. Her dogged and intrusive behavior reminded Adie of the owner of the tea shop. Could she be the so-called source of all information in the village? Adie noted Jayne hadn’t called it gossip.

“Maybe I will, if I have the time. But I’m only up for a few days to see Mum,” Jayne hedged.

“So why offer to interview me, if you’re so busy?” Cage pushed, his eyes narrowing.

At last she saw what Cage was doing. He was protecting Adie from the woman. In his eyes, her blatant dismissal of Adie was insulting.

“It’s called flirting. Obviously, you’ve never engaged in it, so you wouldn’t know. Sorry for troubling you,” Jayne sneered, before spinning on her heels and stalking off in a snit.

Dave grimaced, his already red face growing redder. “Sorry about that. Jayney can be a bit difficult at times. But she means well. I hope she hasn’t offended you.”

“Not me. But hitting on me in front of a woman who could easily have been my girlfriend is offensive to Adie. And I don’t like people who dismiss my friends as if they don’t matter,” Cage ground out, before taking a long gulp of his beer.

“It’s okay, Cage,” Adie muttered, placing a hand on his arm.

This time the touch was not meant to show possession but to soothe.

“No, it’s not okay. Women like that are the reason I put no value on looks. She thinks all she has to do is flutter her eyelashes at a man and he’ll fall all over himself trying to get with her. She doesn’t care if there’s anyone else. No, she likes it when there’s someone else in the picture, so she can prove her superiority to the competition.”

Dave gave a nervous laugh, clearly embarrassed by Cage’s rant. He turned with a relieved sigh to greet a middle-aged couple walking their way. Or maybe they were heading for the door.

“Mary, Harry, come meet your newest neighbors,” Dave declared.

The couple moved forward, looking a little worried. Clearly, they’d heard Cage’s rant and weren’t looking forward to getting a similar reception.

“Mary and Harry Jones have the farm next to yours. They bought most of Beckside’s land from Minerva back when she inherited the place,” Dave said by way of introduction. “Mary, Harry, this is Minerva’s niece Adeline, who inherited Beckside. And this is her friend, Cage Donovan.”

Adie extended her hand in the hope of making the couple feel welcome. It worked. Mary and then Harry took her hand and shook it in relief. When Cage followed suit silently, the couple relaxed a little more.

“We’re so sorry for your loss,” Mary said, her accent unusual. Scottish? Adie wished she could tell one accent from another in this country. It sounded a lot like Hugo’s, so she assumed it was Scottish.

Adie smiled her gratitude. “I never actually met my aunt. Didn’t know she existed, to be honest. But I wish I had known her. She seemed to be a wonderful person. The more I find out about her, the more I regret never knowing her.”

Mary nodded sagely. “We never knew her either. But the village claims her as our own. That happens when someone is famous, I suppose. But I think it goes deeper than that. She was very good to Rory, and we all loved Rory.”

“So I’ve heard. And everyone loves Jig because he was Rory’s,” Adie said, patting her dog’s head.

“Terrible shame what happened to that wee dog. Not that he’s wee anymore,” Harry spoke up for the first time. “I was here the night Rory died. That pup was beside himself trying to help his master. Near broke my heart. I’d’ve taken him myself, if I could’ve got close enough to him. But he kept his distance from everybody, hiding out somewhere around the farm and only coming out to eat what was put out for him. That was Mary who did that. Came over once a day to put food out for him.”

Adie glance at the quietly spoken woman who seemed mortified that her husband had revealed her act of kindness.

Adie took the woman’s hands. “Thank you. It was a kind thing to do. Who knew what would have become of him otherwise. He’s a wonderful dog.”

Mary blushed and looked