Page 25 of Second Chances at the Board Game Café

The job was definitely easier with two. It seemed strange to be on her hands and knees with a man she barely knew, mopping up water and wringing out the cloths into the plastic bucket. When it was almost full, Harry got to his feet without a word and emptied it into the kitchen sink, then continued mopping.

‘Do you have a dry cloth?’ he said eventually. ‘For the final few drops.’

Taylor went into the tiny kitchen to fetch one, and put the kettle on too. The least she could do was offer him a brew. ‘Tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, please,’ he said.

‘It’s only instant.’

‘Tea then please, if you don’t mind.’

Practical, but a coffee snob. She didn’t care what she drank as long as it was hot.

Taylor handed him a mug of tea. ‘Thank you for the flowers. And for helping me mop the floor. Please, have a seat.’ She gestured towards the sofa.

‘I um…’ He looked down at his trousers, which were completely soaking, as were her own.

‘Hang on.’

Taylor fetched three large bin bags from under the kitchen sink, and spread them out over the sofa. ‘There you go.’

He sat down awkwardly, the plastic rustling as he did, and Taylor sat beside him.

If this were a film, this would be the moment when they’d strip off their wet clothes, and one thing would lead to another.

It wasn’t a film. And Harry might have come to her rescue in her hour of need, but he wasn’t her usual type.

Mind you, her usual type wouldn’t have got down on his hands and knees to mop up the floor.

Her usual type wouldn’t have bought her such an extravagant bouquet.

The flowers were an apology, she reminded herself. Nothing more.

Bit extravagant for an apology though.

What did it matter? Romance was off the cards and would be until Max was older, she reminded herself.

Although if it weren’t… well, now she came to think of it, Harry wasn’t bad-looking once you got over the drab clothes.

Clothes that were now soaking wet.

Without thinking what she was doing, she stretched out a hand and touched his thigh, just above the knee, wanting to see how wet his trousers were. Harry looked at her hand as if it were an alien object, and she realised she had just put her hand on the leg of a man she barely knew. She snatched it away.

‘Your trousers are sopping. You can’t possibly go back to work like that.’

‘It’s okay. I’m working from home today.’

Why on earth was he wearing a shirt and tie if he was working from home?

‘Well, thank you. For helping me. And for the flowers.’

‘You’re most welcome,’ he said. ‘Did the water come from the washing machine?’

‘Yeah. I’ll have to call the agent. Again.’

‘I’ll have a look at it.’ He stood up and put his mug down on the table beside her sewing machine.

‘No, really, there’s no need,’ she called after him as he headed into the kitchen, but Harry was already manoeuvring the machine forwards, before dropping on his hands and knees and peering behind it.