“Unless you’re saying you can’t manage…?” Flick this time feigned concern.
“Oh, I can manage, all right, but you owe me one.”
Flick’s tummy danced in response to the way he looked at her, the glint in his eye demonstrating he had a mischievous side of his own. She watched on for a moment, quietly giggling as he began the long walk up with the first of his hauls, imagining exactly how she wanted to pay him back.
Shaking herself out of it, she placed her own paint bucket down and made her way outside for another, surprised to find Nate already nearing the bottom of the stairs for the next lot by the time she re-entered. “I’m impressed.” From what she could see, the man hadn’t even broken into a sweat.
Picking up the next two, Nate winked before turning straight back around and standing there, Flick easily saw why he wasn’t struggling. Taking in his broad shoulders, her eyes moved down to his waist and then to what looked like rather strong thighs. He certainly had the physique for this kind of work, she observed, her gaze drawn to his pert behind. Bums weren’t usually her thing, but on this occasion shehadto make an exception. She heard herself let out a dreamy sigh, a sigh so hard it blew her overgrown fringe out of her eyes. Much to her embarrassment, however, it seemed she wasn’t the only one to hear it and Nate suddenly paused mid step to wiggle his hips in response. Flick let out a laugh, knowing it was her own fault for ogling. “Show off!” she said and reminding herself that men, even good-looking ones like Nate, were off the agenda, she headed back out to the car.
Between them, it didn’t take long to bring everything inside. Although it would have been quicker if her mum had deigned to give them a hand. She stared at the mountain of DIY materials before her, recalling her mother’s response to the fact that the chateau was back on the market, and wondered if she’d be left to redecorate on her own too. She might only be giving a few select rooms her attention, but it still felt like a mammoth task considering the work involved.
She thought about the amount of floral wallpaper that needed tackling, wondering if the papering of ceilings in the exact same design as the walls was a phenomenon peculiar to France? Either way, it had obviously been there for generations and she just had to hope that it wasn’t that that was keeping the walls and ceilings up. Regardless, she knew she’d have to do a YouTube crash course in plastering, to then cover it all in goodness knew how many coats of white paint. Wooden floors had to be sanded, treated and re-waxed, as did the wood panelling. Flick felt tired just thinking about it all. Then there was the kitchen with its mismatched cupboards. Another area that was going to need one hell of a makeover and another reason why she needed all the help she could get. “Coffee?” she asked Nate, in an attempt at delaying the inevitable for a little while longer.
He seemed to think for a moment.
“Don’t worry,” she said, as tempting as it might be. “I won’t rope you into doing any more jobs.”
Nate smiled. “Okay. Why not?”
With Rufus trotting alongside, Flick led the way down the hall and finding the kitchen empty, continued to wonder where her mother could have got to. “Milk? Sugar?” Flick asked, indicating he should sit down. She got a tray of cups ready.
Brenda suddenly appeared at the patio doors, cursing as she let herself in. “Bloody thing. I’ve a good mind to put a match to you.” Suddenly spotting her daughter and Nate, she appeared surprised to find she had company and thanks to her outburst, blushed. “Looks like I’m just in time,” she said, pretending she hadn’t just sworn as she nodded to the kettle.
“Put a match to what?” Flick took in her mother’s appearance. Covered in a brown liquid substance, she looked like she’d been dragged through a hedge. “Dare I ask what you’ve been up to? And what is that?” She pointed to the brown stains. “Oil?”
“I’ve been trying to fix that damn mower.”
Flick stared at her aghast. “What mower?”
“I found it in one of the outhouses. I mean, if we’re really going to sell this place we’ve got to do something about those front lawns. We need to give the chateau some, what do they call it?”
“Kerb appeal?” Nate replied.
“Yes, that. Kerb appeal.”
“So, you’re a mechanic now, are you?” Flick asked.
Brenda looked down at her filthy hands. “Apparently not.”
“I can take a look at it, if you like,” Nate said. “I can’t promise I’ll fix it, but I can give it a try.”
“Would you?” Brenda asked. “Because I haven’t a clue what I’m doing.”
“Obviously.” Flick turned to Nate, acknowledging the trouble she’d put him to already. “It’s very kind of you to offer. But lugging in all that paint was help enough.”
He rose to his feet regardless. “It’s no problem. I don’t mind.” He looked to Brenda, gesturing to the door. “After you.”
Watching the two of them head outside, Flick thought there was something reassuring about a man who could turn his hand to anything. It wasn’t enough that Nate was drop-dead gorgeous, his willingness to get stuck in made him even more attractive. His inclination to help made him seem dependable and safe, as if he’d look after the people in his life. She sighed. Appealing characteristics after everything Matthew had put her through.
Pulling herself together, she insisted that she didn’t really fancy Nate. Yes, the man was good-looking, she couldn’t deny that, but as was usual of late, her emotions were just playing tricks. His desirability was either the result of some ridiculous crush. After all, she hadn’t been in such close proximity to a hot-blooded male for some time. Or on quite a different level, because he reminded her of her dad. He’d been the same when it came to working with his hands. If something needed repairing, he’d repair it. If a garden needed digging, he’d dig it. And if a room needed decorating, he’d decorate it. She smiled as she recalled him tackling every task at hand with gusto.
Unlike her long-lost husband, she remembered, her smile at once fading.
He was the complete opposite. When it came to anything remotely akin to what he considered manual labour Matthew would simply finda man who can. After all, why get his own hands dirty when he could pay someone to do that for him? It didn’t matter how many times Flick suggested they have a go at updating the décor or build some random piece of furniture, he always claimed they had better things to do. “Better things to do, my arse.” Flick would have loved nothing more.
She glanced down the hall at all the paint buckets and bags awaiting her attention, and this time rather than wince at the sight, she felt her eyes light up. “Looks like now’s your chance,” she said, and taking a leaf out of Nate’s and her father’s book, for the first time since Dee’s suggestion, actually looked forward to getting stuck in.
13
