Page 12 of Electric Kiss

Finally, she reached the wide doors that led to the workshop. Pausing for a moment, she took a deep breath and looked inside.

It startled her as she approached the open garage doors to Hill’s Workshop and saw the interior lights blazing with a radio blaring. As she approached the opening, she saw a glimpse of a battered mustard-coloured armchair, and she froze, transported back to a time her mind was suppressing. It was like she was seeing a snippet of time that she never knew existed.

Daisy shook her head, vaguely aware that her earrings had caught in her hair. The pain was excruciating as she shook violently on the spot, and she could feel tears streaming down her cheeks. She tried to catch her breath but instead felt overwhelmed by the deep sadness of her childhood.

Suddenly, it felt like time had stopped. All the sights and sounds around her faded away as she found herself transported back to a memory she had been suppressing for years.

She was six or seven years old again, standing in a room in Turner Hall, bawling at the top of her lungs. She heard shouting and felt something inside her breaking as another crash reverberated around her. Daisy wasn’t sure if the noise was her memory or real life. It was like she was blinded to reality and stuck in her past.

Daisy was terrified.

And just as suddenly as it began, the trance broke, andDaisy gasped for air as she realised where she was standing—outside Hill’s Workshop at dusk. She looked around frantically before clapping a hand over her mouth.

Daisy slowly stepped forward, feeling a chill run down her spine. In front of her, she found a man lying on the ground with his face contorted in pain. He was wearing a dirty white tank top with green overalls unbuttoned to the waist. His entire body was shaking with each breath he took.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” he shouted out. “Didn’t you hear me?”

She didn’t respond, too paralysed by fear to move or speak. To her relief, the man seemed to not notice as he shifted onto his back and groaned in agony.

The light from the quayside lamp above illuminated his face, and Daisy knew immediately who this man was—Nathaniel Hill. He was older but still had the boyish features she remembered from school.

He looked up at Daisy with pain in his eyes, but something else was behind them. Despite how weak he appeared right then, determination and strength seemed to radiate from him.

“Can you help me? I think I need to get up,” he said in a pained voice. “I think I’ve done something to my arm.”

Daisy looked at the man on the floor, his shoulder twisted at an ugly angle. Then, moving into rescue mode, she hoisted her skirts and tucked them into her waistband, creating Buddha-style trousers. Squatting, she hefted the wheelbarrow upright, then crouched near the man and saw he was the most handsome scowly man she had ever seen. That was a big statement, as she had worked with hundreds of scowly men on the rigs.

“Are you all right?” she asked.

He looked up, his face twitching slightly as he mustereda feeble smile. “I think I’ve broken something,” he muttered as he drew his eyebrows together, giving her the once over.

“Stop checking me out while I see what damage you’ve caused.”

“One, I’m not checking you out, and second you caused the damage,” he said.

“How fast were you going that you couldn’t stop pushing this wheelbarrow?”

Nate winced and looked sheepish.

“It isn’t a wheelbarrow. It’s a trailer with handles I adapted. It doesn’t turn left or right just goes straight. I’m not used to anyone being down here, so I thought it was safe to free-wheel it.”

“I see,” she said, not looking at his face but carefully pressing her thumbs into his shoulder to see if he had broken anything or was being a big baby. She’d had some experience of that, too, on the rigs. Her brother Luke gave her basic training for first aid over the years, so she knew a thing or two about breaks, sprains and dislocations.

This man had managed to dislocate his shoulder. Which was amazing, seeing as he couldn’t have been going that fast.

The man’s face was stubble covered, and his grey eyes were soft. They twinkled in the light of the quayside lamps. His lips were full, his hair was thick and dark, and his body was tall, brawny and broad.

“Why were you just standing there? And why couldn’t you hear me?” Nate asked, struggling to sit up.

Daisy scurried to his back. “It doesn’t matter. Can you sit up?”

“Yeah,” he muttered.

“Come on, you big burly baby, get some brave pants on,” Daisy said to him.

The man smelled of oak with a hint of oil.

There it was, that rumbly laugh, and she had her palm on his back, feeling it through his ribs. She got him to a sitting position, and his eyes scanned her face, then her body and then her bare legs. She had a lot on show when she stuffed her skirts between her legs and into the back of her waistband. It was the easiest way to ride a bicycle. It was her preferred mode of transport when they travelled abroad, and she got used to the practicality if she didn’t want to trip over.

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