‘So have I made you feel good about yourself?’ he asked her, still hovering between the car door and the pavement.
‘You can’t help yourself with the flirting, can you? We’ve been friends a long time; are you running out of women to try it with?’
He laughed. ‘No, I’m being myself with you, that’s all. So does it work?’
Bess was taken aback by him saying he was being himself. He’d never outwardly flirted with her, not for years anyway, because their friendship set unspoken rules neither of them had broken. But Bess knew her feelings for Gio had evolved since he’d come down to Dorset. She hadn’t realised it at first; it had crept up on her until the day of his accident when seeing him there on the ground and in danger had made her heart constrict in a way that told her this might be more than friendship.
But the flirting remark stood. He’d always been a flirt and she’d seen him in action. Bess knew dating Gio would be fun – a whole lot of fun, in fact – but then what? It would crash and burn like all his relationships and their friendship would be left in tatters.
‘Look, it’s really cold out here,’ she said, ‘so if you don’t just get in, I might drive away and forget to give these crutches back.’
‘That would be cruel.’ He was still leaning on top of the open passenger-side door, amused.
‘Just get in.’
Once he was in and the crutches safely stowed, she drove to his.
She pulled up outside a home not too dissimilar to her cottage in age with a neatly kept front garden behind a low-slung gate.
‘You want to come in for a coffee?’ His smile faltered. ‘I could really use the company.’
If he flirted with her again when they were inside, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop the way her mind and body seemed to want to react. And that could only spell disaster for both of them.
‘I can come in for a bit,’ she said.
‘Good. And I promise, no flirting.’
Had he read her mind?
‘Unless you want me to,’ he said.
Bess laughed it off as she got out of the car. Gio’s personality was still intact and she wondered whether he was compensating, flirting with her to try to prove that he was the man he’d always been. Knowing Gio the way she did, being injured wasn’t just physical for him. There was a whole lot of mental anguish wrapped up in it as well. Not being able to work would be devastating and she could understand what that must feel like for him. When she’d had her health scare, she’d had to take some time off to fit in her appointments; when her dad died, she took a lengthy leave for herself and to support her mum, but on some days, it had been a form of agony. That time away from work had been necessary, had helped in both cases, but equally, it had kept her away from doing what she loved. She knew even now that with her mounting debts, the days she went to work kept her sane, kept her perspective, gave her a form of support she could never do without.
As Gio turned in the passenger seat, Bess got out, retrieved the crutches and got around to his side of the car. He didn’t have a driveway so she’d parked right outside his property, which was on a quiet road.
‘Where’s your mum?’ she asked as she followed him slowly up the garden path. He was good on the crutches but wouldn’t be winning any races just yet.
‘She’s at work; for once, she’s managed to hold a job down.’ Inside the house, he leant his crutches against the wall while he took off his coat. The house was warm, and he yanked his jumper over his head. ‘Right, Bess, how do you want it?’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The coffee.’ Crutches tucked beneath his armpits once again, he braced, the tendons in his forearms showing off the firefighter’s physique. ‘What did you think I meant?’
‘Okay, enough innuendo, you’re trying to make me embarrassed and you should know by now that it won’t work.’
‘Sorry, not being on the job means I have to do something for my amusement. Anything. Follow me, I’ll get us the coffee. No more clever remarks, promise.’
She followed him into the kitchen. ‘Black for me, no sugar.’
‘Coming right up.’
He had a coffee machine like she did and busied himself making them each a cup. Bess loved her own coffee machine – she’d bought a posh one. But over the last week or so when she made a cup, it seemed to mock her from its position on the kitchen counter, because it had been yet another purchase she hadn’t really been able to afford. It had made her feel good at the time, of course, but that was what had sent her down this destructive path in the first place.
‘How is it having your mum staying with you in your space?’ she asked as she thanked him for the mug he passed her. With their busy lives, they didn’t catch up nearly as often as Bess would’ve liked and not seeing him when they crossed paths at work had made her miss his company all the more.
‘Challenging.’ He met her gaze. ‘She’s helpful – too helpful – and she fusses, which I suppose isn’t a bad thing, but I kind of like living on my own. I’d rather hobble around or drag myself around some days than have someone waiting on me hand and foot. But…’ He shrugged as if there might well be more to say. In all the time they’d known each other, Bess had got a handle on how complicated things were in his family, but he’d never really got down to the nitty-gritty details. Perhaps some of that was as a coping mechanism; the rest could be pride.
He indicated for her to go through to the lounge.
