Page 40 of Oz
He grins. “I’ve got the perfect idea and just know that it’s both practical and functional. You’ll feel like you’re still working even though we’re not on the premises.”
I stare at him. “Yeah, no. I don’t think that’s how dates go,” I say dubiously and smile as he hugs me tight, his head lowered over my own in our tiny hidden corner of the county fair.
Chapter
Eight
Last time I went on a proper date I think I was seventeen
Oz
The next morning, Chewwy and I clatter down the stairs and come to an abrupt stop. “What are you doing?”
He grins at me from his position on a stepladder. “Sorry. I’m just getting these cobwebs. They’re getting bad.”
I fold my arms. “Don’t tell me. You are doing this because Martha, the housemaid, is frightened of heights and once smiled at you when you were five.”
He grins and carries on swiping the duster over the ceiling. “Actually no, smart arse. Martha has a headache.” He pauses. “And yes, she was very smiley when we were children.”
The stepladder wobbles alarmingly and I shake my head. “Okay, enough. Come down before you break something we might need on our date.” He looks down at me and I nodemphatically. “I’ll look into getting Martha to do something else.” I reach for my diary. “Surely we’ve got a member of staff who used to be a stuntman.”
He laughs and gives another few swipes of the cloth and then comes gingerly down the ladder. Once he’s on the floor he lopes right over to me, stepping close as my pulse thrums. “Good morning,” he says softly and kisses me. It’s a soft kiss, barely there, but it feels like he’s marked me. No one has ever done that before or looked so pleased to see me. Normally it’s a quick ‘thanks, was it good for you’ and a hearty slap on the arse.
I swallow hard. “Good morning,” I say softly. I step back to get my equilibrium and his lip quirks as if he knows. “Well, are we ready for our practical work date?” I say briskly.
He strokes his beard contemplatively and I swallow at the rasp of those long fingers against the hair.I want to rub my face in it,I think dreamily and then start as he speaks.
“Not work,” he says firmly. I look dazedly at him, my mind still so full of face and beard rubbing that I’m not following. “It’s a date,” he says clearly. “I’m even buying food.”
I make a face of amazement. “Wow! Food too.”
He nods. “I know. Last time I went on a proper date, I think I was seventeen. We do kiss at the doorstep and go home, don’t we?”
“We do,” I murmur, stepping close to him. “But we live in the same home so I think we can do more kissing to fill the time.”
“You strumpet,” he says admiringly, and I laugh.
“Why haven’t you dated?” I ask as he gestures to me to follow him. Chewwy gives a long-suffering sigh as if pondering the whims of humans and follows us. I look at Silas as he hasn’t given me an answer.
He shrugs awkwardly. “I’ve been with a lot of people, but they usually started with sex. By the time we looked at actually getting out of bed they invariably discovered they couldn’t copewith the isolation of living here. The fact that I was never here didn’t help either.”
“You are here. You’re just here at different hours,” I say crossly. “Why didn’t they adjust?”
“What? Stay up to eat dinner at two in the morning?” He smiles at me. “I think you’re the first.”
“Did you date morons?”
He considers. “Probably in a few cases.”
“And what gender were the morons?” I ask the question that’s been in the back of my head since the woman at the county show.
He shoots me a look and then I gasp as he grabs my arm and shoves me through a door to our right. I look around. We’re in a little lobby leading to whitewashed old stairs. “Oh, this is what you meant by a working date.” I get my diary out. “What needs doing here?”
He grabs the diary, pulls the rubber band around it and puts it under his arm. “You won’t be needing that,” he says smartly.
“Why are we here?” I ask plaintively. “Because I can actually at the moment understand why you’re single.”
“Ssh,” he says, his voice laced with laughter. He opens the door a crack. “Niall’s coming.”
