Page 15 of Knots About You
My fingers burned under the weight of the paint tins and groceries, and I cursed the lack of deliveries. I’d need to hunt down a supermarket that offered shopping drop-offs. The sky above the cottage was postcard blue, and the rose-covered cottage looked so bloody charming. From the outside, at least. Internally, it was a shambles. The sooner I got started on painting, the sooner I could banish the furniture sheet-ghosts and cosy in for the rest of my escape.
‘You look like you picked a fight with B&Q,’ a deep voice said by my shoulder.
I nearly jumped out of my skin. Owen materialised, all broad shoulders and floppy hair, in a dark jumper and jeans that gripped him in a wonderfully salacious manner aroundthe thighs. He held out a hand for the paint without asking. I thought about fighting his chivalry, but admitted to myself that it felt pretty good to let someone else do my heavy lifting for once.
‘They aren’t that heavy,’ I lied, surrendering both bags with my face heating.
‘Yes, they are,’ he said, looking somewhere close to a smile for a moment before his face settled back into a neutral state. The bags seemed light as a feather to him. ‘I could have given you a lift to town.’
‘It’s Wednesday. You said Thursday is your supermarket day, and despite the temptation, I can’t actually exist on baked goods and coffee alone.’
‘Plans can change.’ Owen escorted me along the cobbled road.
‘Something tells me you’re very rigid… with your plans, I mean.’ Not only with his plans. I found myself glancing at his crotch before catching myself.
‘Mmm. Assumptions rarely prove true. Flexibility is important.’ I trailed him as he spoke, mostly to steal a look at his ass and the way his arms bulged under the weight of my paint.
‘You really don’t have to carry those,’ I said as we turned into the front garden. ‘I’m going to feel bad if you put your back out on my doorstep and I have to roll you home.’
‘I’d like to see you try.’
Was he… flirting with me? Or just being nice? It had been so long since I’d been on the market that I struggled to tell. Not that anyone knew I was taken. It’s not like Marty was the type to get so worked up he’d screw me in the office.
‘Could I interest you in a coffee or tea for your troubles?’Please say yes.
‘Sure, I could go a coffee. Where do you want these?’
‘Kitchen, please. Do you want to sit in the garden? I cleaned off an old bench this morning, and might as well use it. It was more rust than furniture.’
‘Sounds great.’
I pushed open the door and went in first, snatching my clean underpants from the radiator and shoving them in my jeans pocket as I passed. Owen carried the bags and paint through to the kitchen and set them down so gently that I wondered if he was always so careful with other things, which sent my mind on a wild goose chase down paths that had me sweating.
‘Milk?’ I pretended like I wasn’t imagining him wrapping me in those thick arms of his.
‘A little,’ he answered.
We took our coffees out into the small square of garden and sat at either edge of the slightly wobbly bench.
‘I didn’t realise you could see the sea from here until this morning. It’s so peaceful.’
‘It is.’
The wind brought the salt up from the sea and rifled through my hair. I put a packet of biscuits on the bench between us as a peace offering to the gods of awkward conversation.
‘At least it’s sunnier today. Though the leaves have started to change.’ I babbled on, trying to fill the empty air.
‘Won’t be long until winter sets in.’
‘An optimist, I see.’ I teased. ‘I love the autumn. Cosy jumpers, apple and cinnamon everything. Fruit crumbles and melty ice cream. Feeling the leaves crunching underfoot. Darker nights snuggled up. Or theoretically. In the city, the changes aren’t quite so dramatic. It might be quite nice to spend the autumn here.’
Owen sipped his coffee and listened intently as I talked, much like he had the other night. He didn’t seem like a man ofmany words, but had this way of intently listening that felt like he was staring right into my soul.
Disconcerting.
But hot.
A seagull landed on the fence in a tornado of flapping and fixed its beady eyes on the biscuit packet.
