Page 4 of Just Say Yes
I turned, and he met my eyes, holding the gaze.
‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome.’ There was a pause, then he rubbed his forehead. ‘Doorways could do with being a bit higher though.’
I grinned. ‘Yes, sorry. I should have warned you. Another reason it’s better when the garden office is operational.’ I peered a little closer. ‘I’m afraid that’s going to leave a bruise.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m sure I’ve had worse.’
‘Walk into a lot of doorways, do you?’
‘No, most people I know don’t live in Hobbit houses.’
‘Charming.’
‘But I did used to be a bit of a scrapper when I was a nipper.’
‘Why doesn’t that surprise me?’
He turned more fully towards me. ‘I don’t know. Why doesn’t it?’ I looked up into his handsome face, that hint of trouble lingering in the dangerous smile. The silence stretched until it was broken by another enormous clap of thunder that made me physically jump. As it died away, another sound replaced it. A faint howling cry drifted through the smaller windows I’d left open that wouldn’t let rain in.
‘What is that sound?’
Lorcan was already moving towards the front door, pulling it open and heading back to his car. The rain was bucketing down and he was soaked through by the time he got to it, opening the door and attending to something inside. Grabbing his brolly, I rushed out after him, coming to a halt with the umbrella over both of us as he lifted out a little dog, cuddling it to his chest and making soothing noises as the rain beat heavily on the fabric above us.
‘You left a dog in the car in a thunderstorm!’ I glared at him.
‘I didn’t want to!’ he snapped back. ‘He had water and the windows were open so he had air and I was about to come check on him anyway.’ I saw now there was plastic over the interior of the car and the windows were indeed open a little. But still, not many dogs were content in a thunderstorm and this one certainly didn’t seem to be.
‘What do you mean you didn’t want to?’ I reached out and gave the dog’s caramel-coloured head a little stroke. It seemed content enough now, snuggled against the broad chest of his owner.
‘Bod comes everywhere with me normally but Patrick said I wasn’t to bring him into the meeting today. I didn’t want to leave him at home because I didn’t know how long I’d be and he was sleeping when I left him in here. The vet gave me some stuff to help calm him in storms but I guess it wore off.’
He fussed with the dog, kissing its soft, furry head and whispering that he was OK now.
‘Come on, inside now, both of you. You should have just spoken to me about it. It’s my house, not Patrick’s.’
‘You sure?’
‘Of course, come on. You’re already soaked.’ I put my hand on his elbow and ushered them in as he briefly turned to beep the car locked and we hurried up the front path. Closing the door behind us, I took the umbrella through to the boot room again and set it dripping on the tiled floor before returning to my guest, who was also dripping.
‘Stay there,’ I said, before heading upstairs and rooting about in the back of the airing cupboard. Returning, I handed him a towel and a tee shirt and swapped them for the dog, whom I wrapped in a blanket. ‘It might be a bit small.’
Lorcan rubbed his dark hair from sodden to merely damp with the towel. ‘If it’s yours, it’s definitely going to be a bit small.’ He had a point. A size eight shirt was not going to fit a six-foot-five man who was built like the proverbial brick outhouse.
‘It’s not mine.’ I gave him a tight smile.
He held it out. It was definitely a man’s tee shirt, and he raised one dark brow in question. I ignored him and instead took the dog through to the kitchen and popped him down on the floor while I knelt and made a makeshift bed from a big cosy blanket, leaving his owner to change his shirt in peace.
‘I can hang your shirt in the airing cupboard if you—’ My words dried up as I turned and saw Lorcan in the tee shirt I’d given him. To say it was snug was an understatement. The previous owner, although tall, had definitely not had this man’s bulk. Not only was it stretched impossibly tight across his pecs, his biceps were almost bursting the seams and the too-short hem exposed the merest hint of a flat, tanned stomach and a line of dark hair leading to places I had no right even acknowledging, let alone thinking about.
3
‘Fits perfectly, thanks.’
The laugh rippled out of me and his eyes crinkled as he joined in.
‘I’m sorry. It’s all I have, but you can’t sit in that sodden shirt for the rest of the afternoon.’
