‘I’ve got a car. We’ll take that.’
I nodded.
He dropped his hand, momentarily looking awkward. ‘Sorry. You were kind of on a roll and I didn’t know how to stop you. I thought about putting my hand across your mouth but figured that might result in me nursing some bruising lower on my body than my ribs.’
‘You figured right. Do you mind driving?’ I asked, changing the subject. I did my best to ignore the rush of warmth I’d felt as Michael placed his fingers on my lips, and that the feel of his touch still tingled on my mouth.
‘Not at all. That way, if the weather turns we can head back immediately, rather than be at the mercy of the trains.’
‘Good idea.’
‘Give me a second to change. I had a clean T-shirt down here somewhere.’ He started hunting around. My gaze landed on a pile of laundry sort of folded near the dryer.
‘Here.’ I picked one off the top and tossed it across to him. ‘We really need to sort your clothes this week. Normally I’d have done that first.’
‘So why didn’t you?’ Michael asked as he yanked his T-shirt off.
I thought it best to turn away this time. If I didn’t know better, I’d call this feeling misplaced lust. Calum had been so busy lately and then with this trip abroad, we’d hardly had any time together. I’d never consider doing anything about it, of course. And I knew Michael certainly wouldn’t. But it was pretty hard for anyone to miss that my client was classically, drop dead gorgeous, not to mention the owner of a body that, should he ever take up going to mass again on a Sunday morning, may have a few nuns rethinking their career choice. I started folding the clothing piled above the dryer whilst I waited.
‘Because,’ I answered, distracting myself, ‘when you first gave me the tour of the house, you clearly didn’t want me anywhere near your bedroom.’
‘You don’t have to do that. You’re off duty, remember?’ I turned back to find Michael dressed in the clean T-shirt and pulling on a baseball cap. ‘You should have told me you had a system.’
‘I adapt things for each client anyway. And for you, I felt that getting your office in order was the best place to start. It would give you a better working environment, and hopefully, would show you what a difference doing the same in the rest of the house would make.’
‘I see. Sneaky.’
‘Call it what you like if it worked.’
He adjusted his hat. ‘It did. Come on.’
Rummaging under a pile of stuff, he eventually located his keys. ‘You know. All this never used to bother me. And now it does.’
‘Good. That means you’ll be even more keen to change it and then keep it that way.’
‘But in the meantime, you’re just adding more frustration to my life.’ His voice had changed and I looked up, meeting his eyes.
‘That isn’t my intention, I promise. And soon it’ll be done and I’ll be out of your hair. I promise. We’re on schedule and you’ve been brilliant, despite your initial misgivings. Honestly, there’s no need to worry. Things will be perfect come Christmas.’
Michael gave a little frown. For a moment he looked like he was about to say something but instead he just nodded, before flashing a brief smile. One I noticed never reached those incredible eyes.
‘Sure. Of course.’
He pulled the door shut behind us and we began walking towards the road.
‘Just down here,’ he said, pointing down the avenue towards a black pickup with the words M F O’FARRELL – ARCHITECT decaled on the side door. It didn’t look like it had seen a bucket and sponge in a while. ‘Sorry about the state of it,’ Michael apologised. ‘One of the jobs I’m working on is a bit out in the sticks.’
‘It’s fine. There aren’t many clean cars around in this weather anyway, what with the snow and the salt. Besides, I’d rather you were driving a dirty pickup than a clean motorbike.’
‘Aah, it’s almost like you care.’
‘Almost,’ I replied, giving a tight smile, but I knew my eyes gave me away – at least with Michael.
He grinned and opened the door, waiting for me to settle myself before closing it and making his way around to the other side. Thankfully the truck’s interior was fairly tidy. Which seemed odd.
‘Uh oh,’ Michael said, as he plugged in his seat belt and caught my glance.
‘What?’
‘Your brain is doing cartwheels.’
‘Oh, sorry. Are you not used to women whose brains do that?’
He raised a dark brow. ‘Ouch! Sharp as a knife, even on a Sunday. What I meant was you have something on your mind and I get the feeling it concerns me.’
‘All right. I was just surprised that your car is quite tidy.’
‘Does that mean it meets with your approval?’
I nodded. ‘It does.’
‘Do I get a gold star or something for that?’ He turned the engine over and flicked on the heated seats, which began emitting their warmth almost immediately.
‘No. You just get the relief of me not telling you to tidy your truck too.’ I wriggled in the warm seat. ‘Ooh lovely! Now that certainly isn’t something the train offers.’
He gave me a little wink and pulled out onto the road, following the directions I gave him.
‘Shall we eat first?’ I suggested as we got closer.
‘Sounds good. That way there’s less chance of long, awkward silences because of the fact I haven’t rehomed this dog.’
I rolled my eyes at him and he smiled.
The warmth hit us as soon as we opened the door. Michael ducked the low beam and closed the heavy oak door behind him. To one side of the bar, a log fire burned brightly, the woody smell filling our nostrils. On the other side, a huge Christmas tree lavishly, if a little randomly, decorated touched the ceiling. Tinsel was pinned along the top of the bar and cards hung from string all around. It was busy, despite the weather, and we shuffled through the tables and people to get to the bar.
‘Kate! What a lovely surprise! We haven’t seen you in here for a few weeks now.’ Linda the landlady beamed. Her gaze locked behind me and I had a pretty good idea as to what, or rather who, had caught her eye. ‘And now I can see exactly what’s been keeping you busy. Good Lord, I don’t blame you. You know darlin’, our food is great here, but if it’s a choice between that and staying and in bed with him…’ She’d dropped her voice to a whisper. Unfortunately, in order to allow for the general chatter of the pub, this was still pretty much normal volume for most people, which meant I was fairly sure Michael had heard every word. ‘So, what I can get you?’
I looked round at Michael.
‘Just a coke for me, thanks.’
‘And a lime and soda for me, please. And do you have a table for two?’
‘When for? Now?’
‘If possible,’ I smiled, hopeful. I didn’t want to wait too long to get to the rescue centre so that we would still have plenty of time to take Rooney out before it got dark.