The week passed with little to no drama. Life slid back into the norm for Rose, and she pushed the encounter from her mind, trying to focus on just getting on as before. She began work on her new commission, which took most of her days lost in her imagination. Paint flowing onto paper and locked away from everyone. Abby came by and never mentioned anything about Rob or the dance again. Not that she needed to, and Rose quelled every urge to do so herself to get her childish crush under control.
Rob had kept his distance and, even in passing, a small polite smile, which never looked genuine or any conversation. He was keeping his distance, being a gentleman, and his usual attempts at humour with her were gone. Rose felt deflated and tried to push it all down deep inside. She tried to ignore the anxiety building up inside her and push the heaviness away. Disappointment became her constant companion where Rob Munro was concerned.
Matt, thankfully never re-appeared. Anytime she heard any sounds resembling a motorbike roar, she would hide in her cottage, adamant she wouldn’t answer the door, but luckily, he never came knocking again.
Life settled back into pre-dance days, and when Rose finally got around to cleaning out her clutch bag, she found a folded sheet of paper pushed neatly inside. She didn’t recognise the light cream paper and pulled it out to unfold its silky smoothness. It was the prize certificate of a slave for the day with Rob Munro’s name on it. Obviously, put there by Abby when they found her bag under a chair that night. Not sure what she should do, she pushed it back into her bag but then pulled it slowly back out. Her stomach flipped.
There was a mobile phone number under his name on the printed card. Directions to contact your ‘slave’ to finalise details. She stood motionless, pondering it for a moment, silently gazing at the number. A thought began forming in her head, slowly and surely building into a very stupid idea.
Had it been almost a week? Surely, he wouldn’t still be mad, right?
Despite Muffin's large, knowing eyes watching her in dry speculation, she knew if she hesitated, she would lose courage, so she immediately grabbed her phone. Punching in the message and number and hit send as soon as earthly possible in case she changed her mind. Once she did, her common sense kicked in fully and forcefully, and regret washed over her. She looked at the sent text,
‘I believe I have slave services to recoup!’
It was so desperate and corny.
Fuck, Fuck, Fuck!
What the heck did she do that for? Forcing him to come to her? Was she so desperate to see him that she had lowered herself to this?
Waiting for a reply you regretted even sending was far worse than she could imagine. Her hands began to shake, her stomach flipped, and her nerves went into overdrive. No guy had ever made her feel this crazy scared over a stupid text. What was she doing?
‘I believe you do!’
Beeped onto her phone seconds later, making her stomach flip and butterflies take hold.
Argh, what the heck kind of response was that?
She could read nothing in that message. Short, blunt, and emotionless. There was no hint of whether it was a calm, angry, or amused response. She felt even more uptight now. Taking a moment to steady her nerves, trying not to overreact to so little information, and think out a response.
‘So, when are you free?’
Aloof. Yes, that was a good reply.
It gave nothing away, no hint at how much of a hot mess she was. The response took a few minutes this time, and each second was agonisingly long.
Rose felt like an idiot standing with the phone in her hand, motionless in the middle of her room. Unable to lay it down and staring pensively at it.
‘I can do four hours this afternoon and four hours tomorrow. If that doesn’t suit you, it will have to be next week when I return from London.’
Rose’s heart rate elevated, her hands trembling. Stopping herself from the immediate reply of YES, YES, YES, she held back, waiting to seem less eager. She had no idea why she was having such a meltdown in reaction to his responses. It was not like they were going on a date. She was simply forcing him to be in her company for two half days. Hardly something to be proud of.
Looking up at the mirror, taking in her appearance, she suddenly had the urge to bathe, fix her hair, and put on a dress.
Oh my god, what was she doing? This guy had a girlfriend! Sort of...Well, possibly.
Even Abby did not know, and he was certainly mad at her. Maybe? Not that he said he was, but he seemed pissed that night. Perhaps she was reading into that too much, but he sure had been distant and cool at every meeting in the last few days.
Was it hatred for Matt, or was it that he liked her?
Surely, she was wrong about that. This was more about her wanting him to come over. Did she care?
‘See you this afternoon then. xx’
She folded, sending him a text without the intended review of what she was writing.
Fuck, why did she add kisses?
Too late, the text was sent.
‘Sure. Be up at 2 pm, then. X’ This time, his response was immediate.
He responded with a kiss!
Rose almost gushed with stupid giddy teenage delight. She needed to stop overreacting to every tiny detail regarding this guy. She was losing her marbles. People added kisses to texts all the time.
It meant nothing.
Rose was the queen of kisses on texts. Abby always added three. Her mum five.
It was more of a nice sign-off than anything.
Saving his number properly in her phone, she caught herself looking at his final message a few more times in a stalkerish fashion and gave herself a shake. Anyone would think she had never fancied a man before in her life. She had to admit, though, no one man had ever gotten under her skin the way he did. Even for her, it was obsessively weird, and she had to snap out of this.
It was noon, and she needed to pick up some of her mess.
No! She needed a bath!
Torn between cleaning up and grooming, she opted for the latter and headed to dig out her scented bath products with nervous excitement. Nothing at all to do with his impending arrival, of course. She just wanted to be fresh and lovely and made up for herself.
* * *
True to his text, she heard his car pull up at 2 pm on the dot, after much preening and pacing and clock-watching and ignoring Muffin staring at her knowingly.
Peeking out of the small workroom curtains, she could see the sleek, sporty black car parked neatly beside her pink car. Watched him slide effortlessly out, wearing a printed t-shirt with a faded vintage logo on the front, jeans, and trainers. Somehow the casual attire made him seem much more youthful and carefree than his normal white shirts and tailored pants and a lot more sexually devastating. Her heart quickened as she smoothed down her floral dress and checked her loose hair and makeup. She looked pretty. Not overdone, just natural and feminine. Her nerves were already jangling.
‘You stay here.’ She commanded, watching no protest as Muffin curled up under her desk to nap. She closed him in the room out of the way.
The chap at the door sent her nerves into a spin, and she hurried to let him in. He seemed larger today, towering above her, more in the absence of her heeled shoes. His frame was taking over the doorway. His hands were shoved into his pockets as he smiled and followed her into the hallway. Both seemed unsure of what to say and stood awkwardly, looking at one another for a moment. He broke the silence first.
‘You look really pretty today, Rose.’ His gaze was focused on her face after his eyes had swept over her dress. Each moment had given her goosebumps as though he was physically touching her, and she high-fived herself inwardly for choosing the strappy one with extra cleavage moulding abilities. She smiled a thank you and had to stop herself from reaching out to run a hand over that tight hard stomach, inches in front of her. It just cried out to be uncovered and nibbled. She scolded herself inwardly.
Calm your blood down, missy!
‘So, have you decided what you want me to do for you?
Well, that was a question with numerous responses.
His eyes were taking in her bodice as he spoke. He was obviously trying not to look at her ample cleavage and failing. Typical male move, but somehow it was not offensive in the way it had been with Matt when his eyes devoured her. Instead, it upped her heart rate and started a little volcano low in her pelvis. He returned his gaze to her eyes, regaining that cool control and giving nothing away. The only clue to any change was the lightening of the grey to a soft pale hue. She had never known someone whose eye colour could change like a mood ring.
‘Umm yeah. Well, I could do with some help in the kitchen. Need some doors sanded to whitewash later and have kept putting it off.’ She was unbelievably nervous and found his gaze hard to stand. It had taken her the entire time in the bath to figure out what she would ask him to do while here. Aware that she had gotten him over without any other intention than to see him again.
‘In that dress?’ He frowned with a hint of a smile, and again, the eyes ran over her figure.
‘Yeah, maybe I should change, I guess.’ She felt incredibly dumb. She must have looked like a horny desperate housewife waiting for the labourers to arrive.
‘No, it’s okay. I can do whatever needs to be done. You stay like that... You can supervise; I’ll need to take the doors out back for the dust.’ He avoided her eyes with his response, instead looking down at her skirt. He seemed unsure for the first time in all the encounters between them. She didn’t know what to make from what he had said; maybe he just liked her dress, and there was nothing in this.
His bulky frame in the hall made standing apart almost impossible. Suddenly aware of how close they were and how shallow her breathing had become, Rose moved off, leading the way to the kitchen. She needed to get some distance, so she could at least act like a normal person in front of him. She felt the heat from behind her as he followed closely, still causing havoc with her body temperature, the silence almost deafening.
It did not take long for the atmosphere to settle between them. First, hot flushes of being in his company again began to simmer down, although she was finding it impossible to keep her eyes from devouring him anytime he wasn’t looking. The distance between them and initial awkwardness at seeing him again smoothed away.
Coffee was poured and half-drunk while he expertly removed her cupboard doors with the power drill left behind by Abby. He moved the drawer and door fronts to the garden and set up a makeshift trellis from chairs and old wooden planks in the outhouse. He called a friend, and a vaguely familiar local boy twenty minutes later deposited a bag of tools and sandpaper at the front door. Rose smiled her thanks and helped Rob move it all to the garden. Making sure she kept her distance as it was the only way she could function normally around him.
Pulling out an electric sander and extension cable, he set up, put a mask on, and removed years of antique pine wax and grime from the wooden doors. Rose could not help but watch him with bated breath. Every tensed muscle and male movement had her light-headed.
She was hopelessly smitten with this one. Mesmerised by the sheer turn-on of a gorgeous male, tanned muscles straining under semi-fitted work clothes, doing some manly manual task. She suddenly saw the appeal of men’s calendars depicting sweaty mechanics and tree surgeons and had to keep chastising herself. Dragging her gaze elsewhere and finding small tasks to occupy her in the kitchen and garden. She took a couple of strolls inside to cool her burning cheeks and calm her overly hormonal self by sticking her head in the freezer. Several pep talks about keeping control of her raging lust were doing nothing to make her insides behave.
Keeping him supplied with cool drinks, sandwiches, and the occasional light conversation was all a bit much for her. Rose did have the worst kind of lust for this man. The type that robbed you of appetite and sleep and made you behave like a prepubescent teen discovering hormones for the first time. Given half the chance, she would be humping his leg and licking his face.
* * *
The time passed quickly, and Rose felt increasingly saddened as she saw the hands on the clock click closer to six. He would be leaving soon. He had worked through all her wooden doors and drawers and was expertly wiping them down with special cleaning cloths his friend had dropped off. They had not talked much due to the noise of the tools he was using, and it suddenly felt like she had wasted her time with him. She wanted to claw back the hours and give him a task involving being topless in her room, like painting a wall or testing out her bed springs.
‘I will leave them in the outhouse tonight and be back tomorrow to finish them however you want. Just figure out what you want and text me. I’ll pick it up in the morning before I come over at ten.’ He was dusting himself down, wiping his hands, pulling the mask off his head, and using his forearm to wipe his brow. These tiny, extremely male actions made Rose want to throw herself at him in a wanton manner. Effortlessly masculine.
Did he not know how devastating that was to a single little woman like her, whose last date had been five years ago? Did he not know how seriously hot and sexy he was when he was acting like himself?
‘Uh huh.’ She was barely listening, watching as he lifted his t-shirt slightly to flap it and remove the dust some more. His tanned six-pack peeked out below in dark contrast to the soft, light, coloured t-shirt.
‘You said whitewashed, right?’ He focused on removing the dust from his clothes and not looking at her.
‘Right!’ Still not listening, still mesmerised by that torso, biting her bottom lip and trying to control crazy urges going insane inside her.
‘Rose?’ His voice almost sounded like he was laughing, with definite amusement as he had brought his gaze to her face. This caused her to snap focus to his face. ‘Are you daydreaming?’ That beautiful grin only helped to send her into a blushing mess.
‘Um uhh...what? ...No!’ Her cheeks flushed.
Damn, had she been drooling? Had he caught her staring at him?
‘I was...um... Thinking... About. You know... Whitewash!’ She lied terribly. Pasting on a smile to cover the flush running up her face and averting her eyes to focus on the glint of his eyes in the sun. He flexed his jaw subtly, and Rose almost groaned.
For goodness' sake, man! Don’t do things like that!
That square, chiselled, lightly stubbled jawline moving in such male ways after watching tanned six-packs flexing was enough to give her a stroke. He seemed oblivious to what he was doing to her.
‘I’ll swing by in the morning. We can go to the hardware shop together, and you can see what you like!’ He smiled easily and went back to finishing the patting down of his jeans.
Rose felt the elation flutter inside, knowing it meant more time alone with him and the sexiest body known to mankind.
‘Um, sure. I’ll be ready.’ Of course, she would!
‘Great. I get up early, but I have to pick up Morag from the airport before I come for you.’
And there it was like a slap in the face, a sobering bucket of ice thrown over a moderately drunk person. A kick off a ledge. Heart plummet, face tightening, and brain crashing back to reality very undignifiedly.
‘Right.’ Her voice was now lacklustre. She scooped herself up from her patio seat and led the way inside. No longer ultra-sensitive to his heat behind her in the small hall. Closed up and prickly. That sinking thud of heaviness returned. Nothing killed an overzealous libido like a man mentioning his girlfriend.
He briefly outlined the plan for tomorrow, seemingly oblivious to the change in her mood or the loss of sparkle in her eyes. She made all the right noises and agreements, and even his closeness to her was doing nothing to lift that heavy pit in her stomach. She felt like hitting him with his stupid sander and bag of tools.
‘Right... Tomorrow.’ She sounded tired and deflated, although he didn’t seem to notice.
Why would he?
He moved to walk out the door she was holding open for him with a sexy smile and then something extraordinary, something that seemed to shock them both by the look on his face and hers. Almost without a moment’s thought, he scooped down, planting a light kiss on her mouth. A nothing, grazing of the lips kind of parting that seemed so natural and unmeaningful in a normal situation. The way you would kiss a loved one goodbye, a long-term lover, or maybe a child.
Rose’s stomach flipped over. Sizzling sparks as their lips met so randomly and spontaneously that tiny affectionate peck made them both stop and look shocked.
What the..?
He said nothing at first. He just broke into an apologetic smile and laughed. Both were taken aback by the sensation and the act.
‘Sorry, Rose, it just seemed to be automatic there. I wasn’t thinking about what I was doing.’ He brushed a stray tendril of hair away from her face, an automatic affectionate response to defuse the awkwardness, then realised that even that was inappropriate and dropped his hand quickly. ‘Guess it just felt like normal to kiss you goodbye.’ He shrugged, but the hesitant look in his eyes gave her, for the first time, some insight that he was not as cool and controlled as he pretended to be. She smiled nervously, holding inner chaos rather well. Her heart back on the roller coaster ride, bubbling about, giddy.
‘It’s ok... Unexpected, but I get it. I guess you probably kiss Abby and Morag goodbye a lot?’ Acting cool and calm was far easier than taming the tornado inside her at this very moment. His face straightened, humour vanishing. A serious look overcame him, and that darkness returned to his eyes. He shook his head but said nothing, his gaze moving to her mouth again.
Crap!
What had she said wrong? God, he made her so jittery so easily.
Without warning, barely a moment to react, he swooped down, this time more purposefully, and caught her full on the lips in a much more mature kiss. No confusion this time about what he was doing. A second of a stunned delay from her, and then she responded by kissing him back. Melting together without thought.
Neither knew how or what had fueled this, but they were full-on kissing within milliseconds. Mouths open lightly to lock together further. Her hands were down by her sides, feeling the same chipped door under her soft palms. His tongue gently slid against hers as they deepened the kiss erotically; her back was hard against the chipped red door, his hands pressed against the solid surface at each side of her head. Bodies apart. Not physically touching anywhere else. Just lips.
It was the kind of kiss that romance books were made of, not awkward or overly soggy. A perfect fit, sensual building to a knee-melting climax. A passionate kiss that sent her nerves into a million burning flames and completely lost to his taste. The sensation of his mouth on hers as they caressed tongues and lips, an easy, fluid movement, was sending a thousand hot explosions through her body, melting her insides and making her crave his body all the more. There was no denying the passion between them was searing like hot pokers.
Then all too soon, it was over.
He pulled away and left her reeling, fluttering her eyes open and having to steady herself against the door. He ran his hand through his cropped hair, seemingly agitated suddenly, grappling to regain control. Swearing under his breath, he began apologising profusely.
‘Rose, seriously, I have no idea where that came from. I am really sorry.’ He was frowning at her, moving around nervously, and all she could do was draw in breaths to try and bring her body back from the brink of fire. ‘You just looked... Inviting - gorgeous as always. Shit. That sounds so fucking pervy.’ He smiled, obviously rattled, and then ran another hand through that cropped hair, looking at her with some seriously cute frowns.
Rose was barely listening. Stunned into silence by the kiss. Trying to catch her breath. A kiss like that made you realise no other man’s kiss would ever do or ever be any better than that.
Damn him!
‘It... Was... Nice.’ Rose finally managed, clearing her throat softly and still struggling to breathe normally. She could hardly tell him that he had just been the best snog of her life.
‘I should go.’ He averted his eyes, humour and smiles dropping away, and suddenly, he just seemed like he did want to leave. His whole manner changed instantly, and Rose felt that plummet in her stomach. She had the urge to run her fingers across her kiss-swollen lips but instead looped her fingers together in front of her waist.
‘Okay.’ She had no other response. Her voice was trembling slightly, with after-effects still ravaging her. He looked at her again briefly, only a full-on frown this time, and said nothing more, turned on his heel, and headed out into the garden.
She followed him out onto the path, lost for words, unable to formulate any noise in protest. You didn’t just walk away from a kiss like that! It was not your average weekend snog with some faceless man in a nightclub. It was the kind of kiss you never recovered from.
What was he doing?
As though sensing her silent panic, he turned at the gate. No sign of anything that had just happened. His face was now the calm, familiar Rob. He had rolled in that perfect control and now looked like the usually smooth Mr Munro.
‘Nine am!’ he lingered, focusing on her face for a moment, giving nothing away. His eyes were a storming grey as though clouds were rolling by in their depths. She nodded, unaware of her flushed cheeks and wild, seductive eyes, causing his heart to race wildly. Unable to respond in any other way, holding back from chasing him down the path and throwing herself at him.
He quickly got in his car and pulled away in reverse. A quick, confident manoeuvre that only highlighted how desperate he was to leave her. Rose, a chaos of confusion, could do nothing but watch him go and fall into a tangled heap on her couch moments later. Unsure whether to laugh, cry, sing, dance, or drown herself.