‘You know, if you’d mentioned this on the phone, I could have stopped at a hardware shop and picked up some tools.’ I crouch closer to the source of the flooding.
‘True, but where would the fun be in that?’ Her cherry lips curl into a smile that extends all the way to expectant twinkling eyes. ‘So, can you fix it?’
A crack in the U-bend jumps out at me. An easy opportunity to secure a few brownie points.
‘Got any masking tape?’ I’m drenched already, my nipples poke through my Ralph Lauren polo. Life really isn’t fair, why aren’t hers?
‘You’re not going all Christian Grey on me? I’m not really into that kinky stuff.’ She sniggers but searches the drawers and locates a roll.
‘So what exactly are you into? I’d love to know.’ I wrap the tape repeatedly around the crack. It’s not meant to fix the problem, just control it until I get a replacement.
‘You’ll never find out,’ she assures me.
The tape does the job for the short term at least. ‘I’ll fix it properly for you at the weekend.’ Noting the make and size, I extract myself from the small space below the sink and glance down at my soaked shirt.
‘I can put it in the tumble drier for you?’ Abby offers, suddenly unable to meet my eye. The idea of me shirtless in her kitchen for half an hour is an interesting one, which I contemplate for a few seconds.
‘It’s ok. I’ve got a spare jersey in the car.’ I jog out and fetch it from the boot, returning to her kitchen to change. I catch her eyes lingering on my torso. Busted. She turns her back to stir a pan of simmering gravy on the stove.
‘I promise I can contain myself on your bedsheets, if you need me to scratch an itch for you or something…’ I stare at her perfectly rounded bum secured with indecently tight black Lycra.
‘Oh no.’ She shakes her head with a little laugh. ‘That was for Marcus’s benefit. But if you really want to please me…’ She produces a tiny recording device and realisation dawns on me.
‘The advertising jingle?’ I groan.
‘You’re not just a pretty face.’ She beams at me, inserting her index finger into the pan and tasting her creation in an outrageously seductive fashion. She certainly knows how to turn it on when she wants something. It’s killing me. If she’d only have sex with me, I’m almost certain I’d get over this inconvenient attraction.
A few minutes later she carries two plates of roast chicken, stuffing and sweet potato mash over to the kitchen table. Call it sexist, but there’s something unicorn-like about a gorgeous woman, who’s also a talented chef. The female form of the four-leaf clover. No woman has ever cooked for me, bar my mother or my aunt. Surprisingly, I like it.
‘So what do I have to do to play the convincing WAG on Friday?’
‘Judging by your performance earlier, you have nothing to learn. The boys were very impressed. Some more than others.’ I grimace, remembering Eddie’s offer to help me with Abby.
‘Years of stage school as a child. Mammy had notions of me becoming an actress.’
‘It’ll be good to have you there.’ I mean it. Not because of Marcus’s stupid bet, but because the more time we spend together, the more I enjoy her company. This could be more dangerous than it’s worth, but I’m weirdly compelled to find out.
‘What do I have to do?’ She swirls wine thoughtfully around her glass.
‘It’s a sports day in Phoenix Park for Pieta House Charity, an opportunity to give something back to the community.’ I swallow hard, thinking of my own family.
Abby looks at me as though I have two heads.
‘Callum Connolly, I don’t believe it. Maybe there is a heart in that enormous chest of yours after all.’ A tinkling laugh escapes her perfect mouth.
‘You’d be surprised.’
It’s there alright. But there’s a reason no one’s ever got near it.
As I tuck in, she pushes her food around her plate, subdued all of a sudden; a fragile bird that could take flight at any second if I push too hard. Was it something I said?
The atmosphere’s changed. It’s charged, as though she’s on the verge of saying something important. I refrain from breaking the weird silence with a one-liner. Something’s bothering her. I surprise myself with the realisation that I care. A caveman urge awakens within – the urge to take care of her. I hope she’s not changing her mind about the bet. Not because of any stupid Audi, but because things are just beginning to get interesting between us.
