Page 16 of Knots About You
‘Absolutely not,’ I told it, placing a hand on the biscuit packet to protect it. The gull screamed while fluffing itself to appear more intimidating. Itwaspretty intimidating. We’d had a previous brush over my croissant that ended with some pretty colourful cursing on my end, and some equally colourful squawking on his.
Owen’s mouth tightened like he was swallowing a laugh. ‘You have an admirer.’
‘He’s athief. Back off, Trevor.’ I scowled at the enemy. ‘We do not negotiate with sticky-beaked fellows.’
‘Trevor?’ Owen’s brow furrowed. ‘Do you make a habit of naming every bird you meet?’
‘Only the ones who need to be remembered.’
Trevor edged closer along the fence as though moving sideways might make me lift my hand. We glared at each other like the good and bad guys at the face-off point in a movie.
After a few minutes, Trevor took off, likely hunting for easier prey than my closely guarded biscuits. In triumph, I turned to Owen and offered him the packet. An actual smile lifted his mouth as he took a biscuit.
Good god, it was no wonder he rationed them. It was a smile that could sink ships and drop panties all in one.
The crinkles around his eyes were more noticeable in daylight, telling me that at some point, he’d smiled a lot more. They weren’t called smile lines for nothing.
As we sipped our drinks and soaked up the morning air, I couldn’t help but admire him. He had that nineties Hugh Grantflop of brown hair, teamed with a neatly kept beard, and a body built for throwing around barrels. With his sleeves rolled up, his arms needed a censor warning. From the muscled forearms right down to those thick fingers. I could imagine them wrapped around… nope.No. Behave.
‘So,’ he said. ‘What do you actually do when you’re not rescuing furniture and naming seagulls?’
‘PR and marketing. Or I did. Crashed out in a big way.’ Not through any fault of my own. ‘I was kind of thrown under the bus.’
‘Memories are short these days. I’m sure it’ll blow over.’ He didn’t press.
‘Work and I are… on a break.’ I broke off the corner of a biscuit and nibbled at it. Usually, I’d be dunking and at least half a pack down, but I was trying very hard to show some restraint. ‘We’ve agreed to see other people. It’s for the best. I thought I might help Shelly’s uncle with the cottage while I figure out who I am without my teeming inbox.’
He was quiet for two beats. ‘I know far too little about online marketing. We have the autumn fair coming up, and apparently, influencers will be attending. Whatever that means. My sister says we need to look less ancient.’
Was he offering me a reason to hang out?
‘I could help, if you like?’
‘No. You’re here to get away from work. I wasn’t trying to rope you in.’ Owen looked mortified.
‘Technically, I’m here to escape the media furore from my boss-stroke-ex throwing me to the pitchforked masses. It wouldn’t take much to get you on the road to reaching a digital audience, I bet. I could give you a crash course.’ And get up close and personal with those arms… People had holiday flings all the time, right? Maddy wouldn’t hesitate to jump straight into a hot man’s embrace, and maybe that’s exactly what I needed. A no-strings holiday man. And who better than the whisky man with the dreamy green eyes and fingers that looked like they could rival any silicon friend.
‘You’re not going to make me dance on the internet, are you?’ Owen asked, looking genuinely worried.
‘No dancing.’ I laughed. ‘Unless you ask very nicely.’
‘I probably can’t pay London rates.’ He shifted on the bench, placing an elbow on the backrest and focusing on me hard enough to steal my breath.
‘I’m not being charged rent here, so we could always do a trade. You loan me your height for painting the ceilings and such other giant related work, and I’ll come and make your business look fresh online. I’m pretty qualified in the area of making old things look shiny on the internet.’
‘Are you calling me old?’ The look he gave me was halfway between an admonishment and a jest. I imagined him using that same tone in the bedroom and nearly dropped my biscuit. Owen came off grumpy and tightly wound, but there was something sinful bubbling just below the surface.
‘I would never…’ I pulled my face into what I hoped was a cute, mock-innocent expression.
‘You’re sure you don’t mind?’
‘I mean, we’ll need to find ginormous overalls for you, which might be quite the task, but I’m sure we can get through it.’
‘Thank you.’ Owen took a final sip of his coffee, looking somewhat uncomfortable about our arrangement. Perhaps I had read too much into his flirting, and he was anxious about spending any more time with me.
‘This is not me signing a blood oath,’ I said. ‘This is me telling you to send me whatever you hate doing and I’ll see if I can teach the internet to be impressed by your barrels.’
‘Barrels can be pretty impressive,’ he said, deadpan.
