He scratches his head, his T-shirt sleeve riding up toreveal a tanned and muscled bicep. ‘I’m... er...not a builder?’
I laugh scathingly. ‘Damn right you’re not. You’re just abunch of chancers who prey on single women because you think we know absolutelynothing at all about getting their hands dirty and fixing up a house. But you’dbe totally wrong there.’ Hands on hips, I glower at him. ‘I’ll have you know Ican plaster a wall with the best of them.’
His eyebrows rise in surprise. ‘Get you,’ he says with agood deal of sarcasm, although I do also detect a flash of admiration in hiseyes. ‘But I’m afraid to say I haven’t a clue who this Eddie bloke is. I thinkyou’ve mistaken me for someone else?’
‘Ha! That’s a good one,’ I say snarkily, although a warningbell has just begun to clang rather loudly in my left ear. ‘So you’re hoping todistance yourself from that bunch of clowns, are you?’
‘Nope. I’m on my way to a meeting and I was passing and sawthe house was up for sale. A car was on the drive, so I thought I’d stop andask about it.’ He gives his powerful-looking shoulders an amiable shrug. ‘Mysister and brother-in-law are house-hunting. That’s all.’
‘Right.’ I take an awkward step back. ‘So you’re not one ofEddie’s bunch?’
‘I’m not,’ he says, almost apologetically. ‘Although...I couldpretendto be if you’d like to take some more of your anger outon me?’
‘What?’ I stare at him, confused, my head all jumbled.Did I really just vent my frustration (at full volume) on some poor innocent bloke?
He grins. ‘I could be Rod the roofer, if you like. Or Gemmathe joiner.’ He shrugs. ‘Steve the scaffolder?’
I sigh, my shoulders sagging. ‘That really won’t benecessary,’ I murmur, all the fizz hissing out of me like a punctured balloonon realising I’ve made a first-class wally of myself in front of this really quiteattractive man.
His lips twitch. ‘That’s a relief. To be honest, I wasrunning out of building services.’
I give him a grudging smile. ‘I liked Gemma the joiner.’
‘Yes? Well, you know, you’re obviously a jack-of...erm, I mean aJenny-of-all-trades yourself by the looks of things.’
‘I wouldn’t say that.’ I feel a blush starting to bloom.‘But I’m quite handy under the bonnet of a car as well, which seems to surprisea lot of folks.’
His dark brown eyes are twinkling at me, rendering memomentarily lost for words for possibly the first time in my life. ‘You knowwhat?’ he murmurs. ‘I’m getting the feeling nothing about you would surpriseme.’
I’m not quite sure how to take that so I do a weird kind of embarrassedhalf-smile. Was he complimenting me? Or does he just think I’m a few lug nutsshort of a full toolbox?
The way he’s smiling gives me hope it might be more theformer, which is a relief. Although why it should be a relief, I’m not entirelysure – especially since I’ve only known the guy for about a minute and a half. (Nicesmile, though. Good teeth.)
Remembering I’m utterly and completely done with men, Iglance back at the hole I’ve made in the wall. ‘Right. Well, I’m afraid thehouse is off the market while the renovations are happening, so if you don’tmind, I’ll get on. I need to get this wall down.’
‘You’re not thinking of carrying on, are you?’ He takes astep towards me, looking alarmed.
‘Of course I am. Eddie the cowboy builder said it wasn’t asupporting wall, so there’s no reason why –’
‘And you believe him?’ he demands.
‘Erm...’ I stare from him to the hole andback again. He sort of has a point but the theme fromMastermindhasstarted running through my head.
I’ve started so I’ll finish.
He sighs. ‘Look, from what you’ve told me, this Eddie guy isn’tat all reliable. You need to get a second opinion first, before the wholeceiling caves in.’
‘But he wouldn’t tell me it wasn’t a supporting wall if itwas,would he? I don’t think even Eddie isthatclueless!’
‘Well, it’s your funeral,’ he says shortly. ‘But I know whatI’dbe doing.’
‘Well, okay.’ I shrug, not liking his brusque manner and theimplication that I’m lacking substantially in the common-sense department. I’vealwayshatedbeing talked down to by men who think they know better thanme!
‘Look, I’ve got a friend who’s a builder,’ he says bluntly. ‘Well,he does all sorts of stuff and he’s good at most things. He might be able tosort you out.’ He hunts around in his wallet and passes me a business card.
I make a show of examining it, nodding slowly, then I put itfirmly in my pocket.
‘So will you phone him?’ He eyeballs me challengingly, theimplication being I’d be a total idiot not to.
