Page 3 of Someone Like You

“I’m forty-five, jackass!” Phil spat, feeling a flare of heat around his ears.

His rage didn’t seem to affect the stranger’s defiant grin. “Nice to meet you, Forty-Five. I’m Ian.”

“For fuck’s sake…” Phil turned away to make sureIancouldn’t catch the glimpse of unwitting amusement through his annoyance. He wasn’t going to laugh at a stupid dad joke from a guy who’d carelessly knocked him to the ground.

A low chortle shook Ian’s hefty chest. “Not big on humour, eh? Let’s start over, shall we?” He stretched out a huge hand to Phil. “Ian Galloway.”

Phil almost snorted, but then his look trailed up Ian’s bare arm, finding a good-natured expression on his face, and despite himself ended up ruefully shaking the man’s hand.

“Phil Hanson.”

A corner of Ian’s mouth curled. “Handsome indeed.”

“Hanson,” Phil spelled out more clearly, his ears flaring hot again.

“Ach.” Ian’s absolutelynot charmingeyes sparkled with mischief. “You new round here?”

“You know every single person in Glasgow?”

“You look lost.”

Phil blinked at the oddly accurate remark. Not that he was actuallylost. Not spatially, anyway.

“Kinda new, I guess.” He gave a lacklustre shrug and finally let go of Ian’s hand, which was about as hot as Phil’s ears felt. “Is two months in the country considered new?”

“Practically just landed.”

“That’s how it feels.”

Ian’s watch bleeped, a high-pitched, repetitive sound that irritated Phil right away. Ian tapped the watch and the bleeping stopped. “That should’ve been my finish time. You owe me.”

“Excuse me?”

“For runnin' into me.”

Phil’s eagerness to start a fight came back, even stronger than before. He wasn’t going to be patronised by the person who had factually caused the incident.

“Youran intome!” he grunted, nostrils dilating. “Youoweme!”

Ian chuckled, thoroughly unimpressed. Something about it caused an odd tingle at the nape of Phil’s neck. “Alright, big man. What about a coffee?”

Phil’s mouth opened, but no sound came out, nor did he know what he’d intended to say. The situation had abruptly taken an unexpected twist and, unprepared to respond to aninvitation, he somehow found himself jogging with Ian towards an Italian café just around the corner.

All the way there he couldn’t shake off an inexplicable impression that he’d just fallen for some kind of scam.

chapter 2

IAN

There was nothing Ian loved more than a slow, self-indulgent Saturday breakfast watching the rain through the window of his kitchen with a bowl of protein porridge in his hands and the sweet purring of his cat Kibble slumbering in his lap.

The sun was just rising. He liked to sleep in on weekends, if he didn’t have any off-the-books appointments or particular errands to run. His weekly schedule was tight enough, what with his professional services taking him all over the city, and sometimes even outside. He was lucky enough to have a few decent maintenance contracts with local companies which granted him a steady income, but he took private jobs as often as he could, because making ends meet in Glasgow was no longer a piece of cake for a self-employed electrician. Kibble had a chronic renal condition and her food was insanely expensive, not to mention the vet bills. He didn’t mind: they weren’t wealthy, but they had arespectable flat in a fairly decent area and more than enough money to get by. All in all, Ian considered himself a fulfilled man.

Today’s plan originally involved nothing but boring yet necessary chores, like cleaning the flat and sorting out some bills he’d conveniently avoided for the past couple of weeks, but when he saw the rain subside into a light drizzle he couldn’t resist the temptation of a relaxing morning run. The recent bad weather had forced him to stick to the gym’s treadmills, so he wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to make the best of one of the last days of summer.

“What d’ye say, Kibbs? Should Daddy ignore his responsibilities for a wee run?”

Kibble flicked an ear, her purring intensifying, and that was about all the encouragement Ian needed to make his final decision. Pumped, he rushed to the bedroom and laid Kibble on the bed to get dressed. She was a half drowned little rat when he’d found her, stuck in the grid of a drain, barely breathing. He’d spent more money than he could afford at the time to get her back on her paws, waking night and day to feed her and make sure she was okay, completely smitten with her bulging eyes and huge, disproportioned ears. He’d seen the gratitude in her eyes as he nursed her back to health, and here she was now, thirteen years later, the chubbiest, happiest cat in the world, bossing him around 24/7 like the spoiled diva she was. She kept a drowsy eye on him while he got dressed, letting out a little‘eh’when he bent down to kiss her head before setting his smartwatch and heading to the door, nearly forgetting to grab the keys on the way out.

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