Page 8 of Fit for Love
Compared to Orlando–who had a skinny, wiry, frame—Ethan was all man. Not for one moment could I imagine him in bed with another guy. Then again, I hadn’t expected that to happen with Orlando.
“Morning, Cora, did you sleep well?” He turned and fixed me with the greenest eyes, almost as if he knew I’d been watching—or was that ogling?—him.
Embarrassed, I tore my gaze away from his glutes. “Yes, thanks, I did. I was exhausted after all the travelling.”And the fact my so-called boyfriend was sleeping with another man, I added silently.
“Good to hear.” He placed the glass in the dishwasher and stretched. “Right, I need a shower before work. Have a good day.” He smiled, then disappeared to his room.
If that was how my days were going to start in future, then they couldn’t be anything other than good.
Chapter Five
Ethan
As I walked up the stairs to my room, I was sure I could feel a pair of eyes following me.Interesting.
I had a pretty full-on day planned out: helping out Mrs Jackson with a number of odd jobs and a bit of painting, then a couple of hours with WW Cabs, and finally, a PT session with Mrs Jackson’s granddaughter. Hopefully, that meant it would be a pretty lucrative day too.
The plan for South America was shaping up, in my head, at least. Although it was already looking more expensive than I’d originally thought. So who knew how much longer I’d have to stay with Mal, and do this random collection of jobs to save up the cash I needed? At twenty-seven, I felt I should have been more settled, but as soon as I stayed somewhere for too long, the itchy feet started and I needed to move on.
There was a knock on the door. “You ready yet? I thought we were going to shower after we’d finished at Mrs Jackson’s?”
Mal was coming with me that morning. Mrs Jackson needed some cuttings cleared from her garden, and that was a two-man job. I always thought it amusing when he joined me, the famous rock star shifting branches and garden waste when he could be creating another best-selling album. Still, it usually got me a hefty tip from the customer, so I shouldn’t complain.
“Yeah, gimme a minute.”
I dragged my sweaty running clothes off and threw on a pair of paint-stained, dusty, old jeans and a similarly marked sweatshirt. Shoving my socked feet into a pair of work boots, I grabbed my jacket and phone, rushing out of the door.
As I did so, I bumped into someone coming in the other direction. We slammed together with a crash and Cora let out a cry. I had expected it to be Mal.
“God, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” I grasped the tops of her arms, holding her away from me. She was dressed in tight leggings and an oversized sweater that enveloped her slender body, giving her an air of vulnerability.
“Yes, yes, I’m fine. I was thinking about something else, and I guess I didn’t look where I was going.” Her blue eyes were glassy, as if she were on the verge of tears. “I don’t want to make you late.”
“It’s fine,” I said. I remembered her apparent fragility in the taxi the previous evening. “Now are you sure you’re okay?”
She nodded. “Go. I guess I’ll see you later?” A flutter of confusion crossed her face, as if she wasn’t sure of what to say. She slipped out of my grasp and headed down the corridor.
Mal was waiting for me at the front door. “She’s a stickler for time-keeping, that Mrs Jackson. We can’t be late.”
I held my hands up. “I know, I know. At least it won’t take us long to get there.”
We headed out to the jeep that Mal kindly let me borrow while I was working. It made jobs, like we had that morning, a lot easier, as I didn’t have to clean it before doing a taxi shift. Less than ten minutes later, we arrived at Mrs Jackson’s place.
“Hello, you two. Can I get you a drink?” she asked, as soon as she opened the door to us.
“Coffee would be lovely, thanks, Mrs J.” I flashed her a grin. “We’ll go and get started.”
The steep path up to the back of her house was almost like a workout in itself. We started chucking the branches and cuttings into two big, sturdy bags, working up a sweat again.
“What’s the story with Cora?” I asked, while we worked. “How come she’s showed up here?”
Mal ran a gloved hand through his hair. “Man trouble,” he said, vaguely.
“Wasn’t she seeing that actor bloke?” I wasn’t one to actively pursue gossip, but even I couldn’t miss the media darlings that were Cora Appleby and Orlando Weare. “They looked pretty solid. And why would she feel the need to flee if she was just going through a break-up? You guys were over ages ago.”
“That’s the thing though—it’s not just another break-up.” Mal used air quotes around the word ‘just’. “There’s more to it than that.”
“What do you mean?”
