Page 114 of Not That Ridiculous

Kevin answered it. “Yep.” He stood there with a hand at the back of his neck, staring at the floor as he listened. “No,” he said. “No. Can’t do it. I’m busy this weekend.” He paused and listened again. “Monday. I can—fine. I said fine. Only if I can go over and do it right now because this afternoon is already booked.” He looked over at me. I offered a tentative smile. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.” He hung up without saying goodbye.

“Are things still—” I began.

“It’s okay,” Kevin said. “It’s just building some furniture. At this point, I can put an IKEA shelving unit up in under an hour.”

“Do you want to talk?—”

“Nope.”

I narrowed my eyes at him, not terribly pleased with how quickly he shut that down, especially considering he was more than happy to share his opinion on what needed fixing inmylife. “I think maybe?—”

He grabbed me and kissed me. I was still reeling when the shop bell chimed and the door clicked shut behind him.

The way Craig treated Kevin was really getting on my nerves. The way Kevin treated me when I tried to talk to him about it got on my nerves, too, but I didn’t know what to do about that.

I did have some ideas about the Craig issue.

For instance, I’d bemorethan happy to take Craig aside for a quiet word, and explain to him fun things like contracted hours, the concept of overtime, and how if he wanted Kevin to be on-call for Chipping Fairford’s DIY needs then he had to negotiate for it, but…it wasn’t my place.

Going on the way Kevin shut me down whenever I tried to bring it up, I didn’t think he’d appreciate me poking my nose in.

Everyone knew that these days Kevin was the one who got the job done when it came to Henderson’s Handymen. He was polite, efficient, competent, and no one had a bad word to say about him. In fact, I suspected that he was getting busier and busier because anyone booking a one-man job asked for him, rather than for Craig.

It was clear that Craig needed Kevin far more than Kevin needed Craig.

If I was Kevin, I’d tell Craig to shove it, and go into business on my own.

I wished he would. I’d support him in setting it up, even though it would mean a lot of paperwork and managing accounts, and paperwork and managing accounts were hardly my favourite thing. Paperwork and managing accounts were, in fact, the main source of my stress. I didn’t relish the idea of doing it all for a second business.

I’d do it for Kevin, though.

I’d do anything for Kevin.

21

Kevin finished whatever job he was doing and texted me before lunch to say he was heading straight to the gym for a workout. He’d be over later.

Three o’clock swung around and he still hadn’t come by.

I went into the back garden and distracted myself by lobbing some tennis balls for Phil—ten of them, one after the other across the lawn. I wasn’t allowed to bring Phil’s toys out of the house or he got anxious and rushed them back in, but tennis balls were okay.

Although Phil was (mostly) a guardian breed, he also liked to herd. He wasn’t a retriever or a catcher. I’d tried tossing the ballstohim a few times. They just bounced off his reproachful face.

And you could forget about throwing them and expecting him to chase them.

No. Phil wanted to gather them into a safe little flock, then lie down and watch them.

The weirdo.

He was noodling around in the flowerbed at the bottom of the garden, looking for one of his lost lambs, when I heard the back gate open behind me. I turned and smiled at Kevin, forgetting that I was annoyed with him for his abrupt departure that morning.

He stalked over with long, agitated strides, and didn’t stop coming until he was plastered against me.

“Hi?” I said.

He took my face between his palms and lifted it even as he ducked down to kiss me.

Based on his dramatic entrance, I’d expected something overwhelming. What I got instead was soft, tender, and oddly beseeching.

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