Fix Them Up, page 11
‘I can get some towels –’
‘Honestly, I’m fine. You’ve done enough. I – I really appreciate it,’ I said, hoping my face was earnest.
‘Did that hurt to say out loud?’ Liam asked sardonically.
I rolled my eyes. ‘I’m saying I’ve forgiven you for the car park debacle if that makes you feel better. You don’t have to keep trying to repent.’
Liam’s eyes widened comically. ‘Are you saying I don’t have to keep going to midnight mass? Because it was really messing with my sleep.’
I held up my hands. ‘I mean, I don’t know about the rest of your sins.’
Liam nodded solemnly. ‘I should probably keep going. Father Nichols would be disappointed.’
‘The older ladies need some eye candy. Keeps them from falling asleep.’
‘Eye candy.’ Liam raised his eyebrows.
Fuck. I could feel heat travelling up my neck.
‘Well, you know,’ I sputtered, ‘their husbands are probably long dead. And they haven’t had their eyes tested in a while. So anything will do.’
Was that funny enough to play off my blunder?
‘I have been called a last resort before,’ Liam said dryly, with an arched eyebrow.
It took me a while to realise he’d quoted what I’d said at the social club.
I winced. ‘Not my finest moment.’
‘Come on, you can’t go back on it now.’ Liam laughed. ‘You’ve made up for it with “eye candy”. I think I could probably use that to fuel my ego for the next five to seven years.’
I rolled my eyes. ‘Typical man.’
Liam laughed as he busied himself in the kitchen, adding milk to the tea. I looked out the bifold doors into a spacious garden, and at the end of the garden was a mini house made of bricks and wooden beams. It looked like something out of a fairy tale, slightly out of place for a residential area, but the garden was big enough that it worked.
‘Is that the annexe?’ I asked, mouth agape.
Liam joined me at the doors and handed me a mug of tea.
‘Yeah.’
‘You have to be kidding me.’
‘What?’
‘Liam. Look at it. It’s like, from a film. It’s ridiculous.’
‘I googled some ideas and picked it. Do you want to have a look? I’ll grab your bags.’
He ‘googled some ideas’. It looked like a mini version of the cottage from The Holiday, for fuck’s sake.
I shook my head. ‘You are too chill about this.’
Liam leaned to take the mug of tea from my hands. Our fingers brushed, and that familiar shiver trailed up my arm. I glanced up to see Liam looking intently at my hands, his brow furrowed.
‘Your hands are cold,’ he murmured. He placed our mugs on the sidetable beside the sofa and drew my hands between his.
‘I’m always cold,’ I explained, my voice going a bit hoarse. It was true. I was always cold, my hands and feet especially.
Liam frowned as if personally offended by the temperature of my hands. He continued to hold them between his much warmer, calloused ones.
‘There,’ he said, glancing down at me again, and I realised how close we were standing. Our eyes met, and time slowed. Liam’s face softened, and I swore that, momentarily, he felt it, too – the electricity. His eyes darted down to my lips, and he leaned forward slightly, like he couldn’t help himself.
He blinked, and it was gone.
My cheeks heated. I needed to pull myself together. It was pathetic pining for some man who basically hated me less than twenty-four hours ago.
Liam cleared his throat. ‘I need to check the heating is on. It gets cold in there.’
Liam led the way down the stone path to the house. Solar lights were dotted about either side of the path, making it easy to find in the dark. I stood at the door, not knowing what to do next. Liam reached up to the door frame; his shirt lifted, revealing a line of toned skin across his lower back.
‘There is a spare key. You can leave it here if you like; it’s a pretty safe area.’
He unlocked the door, and we stepped into the annexe, the smell of pine in the air. The cosy room had a small kitchenette on the left, with a dining table and two chairs. Two well-worn armchairs sat in front of an electric fireplace with floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with books on either side. It was homely and sweet but also had that well-worn look, which differed from the modern appliances and furniture in Liam’s house.
‘It should have everything you need for a few weeks.’ Liam dropped my bags onto one of the armchairs and strode to the back of the little cabin, oblivious to my gaping mouth. ‘It’s a small bedroom, but it has an en suite, too, so you won’t need to walk into the main house for the loo.’
‘Liam.’ He turned around. ‘I – I don’t know what to say. Thank you. Really, this is amazing. I mean, I can’t imagine camping now.’
Liam raised an eyebrow as if to say, Most people wouldn’t be stupid enough to camp outside in February in Manchester. He turned on the lights, and I peeked around his shoulders into the bedroom. I saw a small double bed with brushed cotton bedding and a sliding barn door leading to the en suite.
‘Towels are in the airing cupboard in the bathroom,’ Liam said, turning his head towards mine. I stepped back when I realised how close we stood.
‘Perfect. Thank you.’ I nodded.
‘No problem.’
He turned around, and I smiled up at him, wanting to show how much I appreciated this. A friendly smile, nothing more. The corners of his lips turned up. We stood like this for a beat until he stepped closer, and the smile slipped off my face, and I avoided eye contact. Blood rushed to my head, making me lightheaded as his cedar scent filled my senses. I could feel the heat radiating off his body. I didn’t dare look up at his face. I couldn’t help but stare at his chest, hidden behind a black tee.
‘Kat,’ Liam rumbled.
‘Yes?’ I murmured, still refusing to look up. He had a really nice chest.
Liam coughed, which suspiciously sounded like a laugh.
‘I need to get past.’
Oh.
I met his gaze and found his eyes twinkling.
‘Oh. Sorry.’ I turned and shuffled awkwardly into the kitchen.
I wanted to bang my head on the exposed wooden beams until it bled.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ Liam said. He walked towards the door and put his hand on the door handle, but he turned back towards me. ‘We can do some dinners if you like.’
‘Oh, you don’t have to do that –’
He shrugged. ‘I’ll be cooking anyway, and I make too much.’
‘Oh, okay. That would be nice.’ I smiled. ‘I usually forget to eat.’
Liam frowned. ‘You forget to eat?’
‘Yeah, it’s a whole – thing.’
‘A whole thing?’
‘It’s my ADHD. I struggle to remember. My friend, Willa, brings me food to my desk and forces me to eat at work. I get so focused on a brief for a client that I forget to eat.’
Liam was still frowning, so I went on.
‘It’s like I’m…’ I searched for an example. ‘I’m like a runaway train. I’m impossible to stop. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t. Some people like me get irrationally angry if they are interrupted in their flow. I can get like that sometimes. It depends.’
‘You need to eat. I’ll make enough for two.’
‘Only if you have extra, don’t go out of your way…’ I petered off, but Liam had already opened the door and walked into the light splattering of rain.
‘Lock the door, Red,’ he called out.
‘Well, good night!’ I shouted back louder and went to shower all the rain and mud off myself. In the shower, as much as I tried to stop it, my mind couldn’t help but drift to brown eyes and cedar cologne.
Chapter Fourteen
Kat’s To-Do List
FIND OLD TO-DO LISTS!!! Buy a new notebook
Book design appointments (kitchen/bathroom)
Thank-you card for Pat (for brownies)
Redesign social club event flyers (they are gross)
Call Mum back
‘So, just so I can get this right, you’ve moved in with your builder.’ Willa’s familiar voice came down the phone. She had texted me about fifteen minutes earlier: Free for a chat? I would usually be fast asleep at seven in the morning if it weren’t for the fact Liam mentioned he left the house at seven thirty.
Plus, it wasn’t like I’d slept.
I’d been too excited to start the renovation, so I was up at five a.m., like a kid at Christmas.
Willa continued, ‘The builder you’re paying has offered you somewhere to live?’
‘Well, yeah, but it’s not as bad as you think. He’s a mutual friend, I guess. He’s close with my uncle and auntie. And he grew up with my cousin, Lydia. And he came to my dad’s funeral.’
The explanations came tumbling out of me, and I internally winced at the defensive tone. I did not mention the whole car park debacle but listed off my justifications with no sense of shame.
‘Isn’t that a bit weird?’ Willa asked gently.
‘No. Yes. I don’t know.’ I slapped my hand on my head. ‘I think we’re friends now. Kind of.’
‘Friends?’ Willa repeated.
I thought Liam and I were friends. Kind of. We seemed to have settled into a suspension of hostilities since the afternoon tea event at the club. Mostly. He had offered me somewhere to live and made me dinner. Friends did that sort of thing, didn’t they? And we’d both agreed that if I lived here, I would rebrand his business in return.
Friends helped each other out.
‘Yes, friends.’
I could hear Willa’s scepticism from the pause down the phone.
‘Be careful, okay, Kat. What do I always say –’
‘Don’t shit where you eat.’
‘Don’t shit where you eat,’ she repeated with vigour. ‘And you’re living with the man renovating your bloody house. What if he makes a move on you, and you have no choice but to accept? I know he’s a family friend, but – just lock your doors.’ She paused. ‘But I suppose he has the keys, doesn’t he? Given it’s his house.’ I could hear her frown down the line.
‘I’ll be fine, Wills. I promise.’
‘It’s the power balance –’
‘I’m rebranding his business in return for staying here. And you know how much I could charge for that if I wanted to.’
Willa hummed, still unsure.
‘And I’ll keep you updated. It’s all on track to finish in two months. Then, I’ll be back in London; I can buy my own place and be ready to start work again. All of this chapter about my dad will be behind me. And you won’t have to worry about me.’ I ignored the deflated feeling that gave me.
‘I always worry about you,’ Willa said dryly.
‘Hey!’ I complained. ‘How are things at work?’ I changed the subject away from my liabilities.
‘Fine.’ A single-word answer was all I was going to get.
‘And John?’
John was Willa’s on-again, off-again boyfriend. I fucking hated John. Willa was the Miranda to my Carrie, always more practical than me, but it didn’t always mean she was invincible. Even if she’d prefer it that way. John – or as I like to call him, ‘fuck-face John’ – was controlling and manipulative. When I’d first met him, I’d had an instant visceral hatred response. We’d met in the new buzzy restaurant in Soho, and all night, John had subtly controlled Willa, monitoring what she ate and drank. I thought maybe I was going mad because everyone else seemed to like him; even Willa’s dad, who was notoriously hard to impress, seemed to like him. They went golfing together.
After six months, John persuaded Willa to rent an apartment with him, but he paid no rent because he had to ‘keep up repair costs’ for his piece-of-shit canal boat.
Yes, he lived on a canal boat.
Since then, John had shown his true colours. He’d cheated on Willa twice, but she took him back. She was hurt and resentful when I tried to host a mini-intervention to point out how horrible he was. So, we don’t often talk about John.
But since I wasn’t in London, if the shit did hit the fan, I wasn’t going to know about it.
However, I promised myself that I’d trust my gut from then on. I’d trust that part of me that knew something was off, that raised the hair on my arms. It was like my spidey sense.
‘We’re not together.’ Another minimal word answer.
‘Oh.’
When I’d left London, they were back together.
‘He’s out of the picture. For good now.’
‘That’s good…’ I said, unsure of what I should say.
‘Yeah, I thought you might be pleased.’
‘Willa –’
‘It’s fine, Kat. More importantly, when can I come up to visit? I want to assess this new housemate you’ve got. Check everything’s above board.’
‘He’s not a housemate, Willa.’
‘Well, he kind of is, isn’t he?’
‘He – it’s a weird arrangement.’
‘If he even thinks about touching you without your consent –’
‘Don’t worry, mama bear,’ I chided. I wish she extended this protectiveness to herself. ‘I have family that would knee him in the balls if he thought about it.’ After Sandra got up in front of all of Everly Heath to ask for help, I think I could bet on her coming to my defence. And the same with Lydia.
Having a family I could rely on was a strangely nice feeling.
I was about to put off a Willa visit when I glanced over at Liam’s house. He was stood in the window looking out at the garden and donned his usual outfit – a black T-shirt, utility trousers and steel-capped boots. A familiar, unreadable expression on his face.
He lifted his cup of tea as if to say, Want one?
I gave him a smile and a thumbs-up and internally cringed at the awkward gesture.
‘Wills – I gotta go. Can I call you later?’
‘Sure. Speak to you later.’ And she hung up.
I walked across the pathway to Liam’s house to find the bifold doors ajar.
‘Morning,’ I called out, taking a seat at the island.
‘Morning,’ Liam replied, pushing over the cup of coffee on the kitchen island. ‘I hadn’t expected you up this early.’
‘What do you mean? I’m coming with you.’
‘No, you’re not.’
My smile faltered. ‘Yes, I am. I want to help.’
‘That was not a part of the deal. I said it would be quicker with you out of the way. I can’t be worrying that you’ll fall off a ladder or stub a toe. I have enough to worry about with Jack’s weekly trips to A & E.’
Liam moved to the fridge, pulled out something wrapped in greaseproof paper and put it into a backpack.
I trailed after him. ‘I need to come with you.’
‘Tough.’
‘Liam – come on.’
‘Don’t “come on” me.’
I snorted.
‘Childish,’ Liam chided.
‘I hate to point it out, but it’s my house, so I have every right to be there.’
He glanced up, his brows knitted together. He would get some serious lines if he kept frowning this much.
‘Wouldn’t you rather stay here and relax?’ He gestured to the lounge. ‘I have Sky.’
I laughed. There was something cute about his innocent suggestion. Like I was itching to catch up on the latest season of Yellowstone.
‘I’ll go mad here. I’m serious. I don’t have an “off” mode.’
Liam stopped and stood at the island, pressing his hands on the worktop, levelling me with a serious look. ‘There isn’t anything you can do.’
‘I can’t knock plaster off some walls?’
‘No.’
‘Then, can I come to take some videos? I was up all night on Instagram, scrolling through house accounts. I’ve started one, so I can see how far we’ve come. Something to remember.’
Liam’s lips were a fine line. He looked me over, doing that scanning thing again.
‘Fine.’
‘Yes!’ I beamed. ‘Thank you.’
‘But no getting in the way.’
‘I won’t.’
‘And don’t touch anything.’
‘No touching.’
‘And don’t do anything that can land you in A & E. I’m busy enough.’
I saluted. ‘Yes, sir.’
Liam shook his head. ‘You’ll be the death of me.’
I smiled brighter. ‘I won’t, I swear.’
‘We’re leaving in five minutes.’
Liam walked down the hall, and I swear I could hear him mutter something about wrapped around my finger, leaving me laughing into my coffee cup.
Chapter Fifteen
I’d weaselled my way onto Liam’s little team by the end of the first week. The dream team consisted of me, Liam, Jack, and Freddie, their eighteen-year-old apprentice, who looked at Liam like he hung the moon.
On Monday, I took my little pictures and videos. I cleared the garden of ceramic gnomes. I made five million cups of tea. Meanwhile, the guys took hammers to the walls and had all the fun.
By Tuesday, I was sick of my role as a chief tea maker.
My legs shook, my hands roamed. I itched to do something. So I snuck upstairs and took down the plaster on one of the walls in the bedroom. It was kind of addictive, hitting the plaster and watching it fall to the floor.
‘Kat!’ Liam’s voice called up the stairs. I winced. Heavy steel-toe work boots stomped up the stairs at surprising speed. Liam appeared at the doorway, looming.
‘You said you would stay out of the way.’
‘I’m a woman, so I should stick to gardening?’ I rolled my eyes. ‘So backwards, Liam.’
Liam’s eyes narrowed. ‘No, you don’t get to do that –’
‘Do what? I’m just saying –’
‘I’ve worked with plenty of tradeswomen. It’s not about you being a woman.’ He glanced at my canvas trainers and looked like he wanted to pass out. God, he was such a stickler for the rules. ‘Shoes,’ he barked, shaking his head. ‘You’re not doing any work until you have some proper bloody boots.’
