Page 12 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
Ben looked early-morning rumpled in loose jeans and a white T-shirt, his hair tufty on top, a pillow crease down the side of his face. When he saw that it was her, his gaze dropped to her ankle, then came back up.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘I hope I didn’t wake you.’
He shook his head abruptly. ‘No, you’re fine. How’s the ankle? You didn’t come for hash browns last night.’
He almost,almostsounded disappointed.
‘A fry-up would be lovely,’ she mused, and then, when he frowned, added, ‘my ankle felt much better once I took the weight off it, but I really appreciated the offer.’
‘It wasn’t a problem,’ he said.
Thea bit her lip. It had seemed such a good idea, back in her bedroom with the ruined slat, to ask Ben to have a look at it rather than trouble Mel. But now she was here, faced with all his stoic solidness – his impenetrability. And she knew now that he was kind – he had beensokind to her yesterday – but she could almost taste the awkwardness that still lingered between them. He was just so …there.In his white T-shirt, with his tanned, muscled arms, his wide shoulders, his swirly, green-brown eyes scrutinising her. She could see he was about to ask if there was anything else, or if she’d just come to gaze at him, so she blurted, ‘You said if I needed anything, I could knock.’
He leaned against the door frame. ‘I did, and I meant it.’
‘Thank you for that.’
He nodded, the corner of his mouth lifting now, with that same hint of amusement she’d seen yesterday. She knewshe deserved it this time for her woeful conversational performance, but it didn’t make her feel any better.
‘What can I help with?’ he asked.
‘My bed,’ she said.
His eyebrows rose up to his hairline.
Crap.‘My bed’s broken,’ she clarified. ‘One of the slats has splintered.’
‘You didn’t look like you had much energy left after your walk,’ he said, and when their eyes met she saw his cheeks colour at the same time she felt hers redden. ‘I mean, for jumping on it. The bed. I was trying to make a joke that you must have been jumping …’ He shut his eyes and squeezed the bridge of his nose. ‘That’s not – I’ll get my tools.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Isn’t that why you’re here?’ He opened his eyes again. ‘You haven’t just come to tell me your bed’s broken; it’s not really something to brag about. Or maybe, under some circumstances, but—’
‘No,’ she said hurriedly: her cheeks were on fire, now. ‘No, I was hoping you’d help.’
He reached out and touched her arm, just a brief brush of his fingertips. ‘Of course I will, if I can. Give me two minutes.’
She stayed on the doorstep, trying to settle her pulse as she peered into his front room. She couldn’t see anything except the edge of what looked like a large metal toolbox. Scooter padded to the doorway and nonchalantly nosed her hand, as if they were old friends. Thea smiled, stroking the silky underside of his jaw.
The door opened wider and Ben had – not a smaller version of the toolbox, but a toolbelt.It was mustard-colouredand looked soft, as if it was made out of suede, and it was slung low on his hips, the polished handles of various tools poking out of the pockets.
Thea chewed the inside of her cheek. Was he aware how much of a hot builder poster-boy he was? She was sure he wasn’t. After her original assessment yesterday, that he was coolly arrogant, she had decided she’d misjudged him. He seemed reserved instead, awkward in some social situations, which made him a kindred spirit.
‘Let’s see what we’re dealing with.’ He gestured for her to lead the way.
She led him through the living room and up to the bedroom, where the mattress was still half off the bed, exposing the broken slat. The open window had freshened the room, and her belongings were all arranged neatly. Still, she couldn’t help but try to picture it through his eyes: the make-up and skincare on the chest of drawers, her book and water glass on the bedside table, a small cuddly bookworm that Esme had bought her, and who she called Bert, sitting next to them.
Ben stood for a moment, his eyes assessing, then he knelt down in front of the bed.
‘Is it fatal?’ she asked, after a few moments’ silence. Scooter was standing next to her, and she was glad she’d remembered that dogs were allowed in the cottage if arranged beforehand. This short visit surely wouldn’t upset Mel.
‘I can shore up the break temporarily or replace the slat,’ he said, ‘but you should speak to Mel first. I can do a patch job if she’s happy, then replace it with another slat as soon as I can find one.’
‘I don’t want to hog your time,’ Thea replied.
‘It’s no problem.’ Ben sat back on his haunches. ‘Give her a call, see what she wants to do.’
