Effie watched them amble past the window before picking up her paint tray and brush and heading back to the shelves. Lemony sunlight streamed in through the window, it was the most perfect day and she was stuck inside.
‘Come on, Eff, if you get these done, you can go out and enjoy the weather,’ she muttered to herself as she climbed back onto the stepladder.
A gentle knock at the door made her turn around. Rather than Alf and Scruff, Jake stood there, a tray with two takeaway cups and a scone in his hands.
‘Delivery.’ He held up the treats. ‘Alf said you were struggling.’
Effie narrowed her eyes at him. ‘You haven’t come to gloat, have you?’
‘No, why?’
‘After I asked how hard could painting be?’ She signalled to the shelves. ‘It’s bloody hard. And boring.’
Jake cracked a smile. ‘Well, I did kind of know that. But you were so determined to do it yourself.’
Effie harumphed as she made her way down the ladder steps.
‘Have you done anything like this before?’
Effie shook her head and sighed. ‘No and I didn’t think it’d be hard. I mean, it’s just paint but those shelves look, well, rubbish.’
Jake handed her the tray, which Effie carried over to the counter. Famished, she took a large bite of the scone, letting out a happy sigh as the soft, buttery and fruity flavours burst on her tongue.
Jake gave her an amused look. ‘Good?’
Mouth full, Effie gave him a thumbs up. As she ate, Effie watched Jake inspect her work and tried to quell the irritation he ignited in her. Too good looking, too kind, too much like the boys she’d unrequitedly lusted after. She took a sip of her drink. She would not be lusting after Jake, despite the fact he was constantly showing up in crisp white T-shirts that highlighted his nicely tanned and toned arms.
‘Do you own any T-shirts that aren’t white?’ It was out of her mouth before she could stop herself. ‘I mean, it can’t be the same one worn three times, it’s spotless.’
Jake tugged the T-shirt away from his body, ‘I have a few. I thought you were too busy glowering at me to notice what I’m wearing.’
‘Oi,’ Effie spluttered, startled by the flirtatious gleam in his eyes. Cramming the last bit of the scone into her mouth, she wandered over to him. Dared herself to stand as close as possible. Side by side, they surveyed the shelves before turning at the same time towards each other. Effie’s breath caught as his blue eyes roamed over her face, raising colour in her cheeks. She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.
‘You have paint here.’ He reached towards her face as if he was going to wipe the paint away before withdrawing his hand.
Effie froze. The few seconds they stared at each other stretched out longer than was comfortable. Effie broke his gaze and wiped at the paint. It was dried on. ‘Ugh, I’ll sort it later,’ she said with a sigh.
‘Effie, let me help. My dad is a painter and decorator. I used to help him in the school holidays. I actually quite enjoy painting. Instant results, the subject doesn’t complain if they don’t like the lighting.’
‘You’d help me? Why?’
‘I still feel so awful about taking your photo, plus, I’m at a bit of a loose end. I’m trying to start a photography business but it’s still very early days,’ he explained. ‘I hate not having anything to do. Also, Effie, I hate to say this—’ he tapped the shelf she’d started on ‘—but with all the will in the world, I don’t think you know enough about decorating to get this to a properly professional standard.’
Effie knew she should be insulted, that she should protest, but Jake was right, not only did she not have the ability, but she also lacked the will. Usually she hated asking for help, felt it flagged up a weakness in her, but as she looked at Jake, so openly offering a hand, she knew she’d be a fool to refuse.
‘OK, Jake, if you want to help, that would be great.’ More than great, she thought as she smiled shyly at him, but she didn’t want him to think she needed him that much.
Chapter Eleven
Effie was transfixed. She hadn’t realised anyone could take so much time, so much care, over painting some shelves. As soon as she’d relinquished her paintbrush into Jake’s capable hands, he’d taken over, not in a boorish way, but in a soothing, knowing exactly what he was doing way. He showed her, without mansplaining, how to make sure the paint went on smoothly.
‘You need to use thinner coats and more of them, rather than slapping it on so it goes blobby,’ he explained as he dragged the paintbrush along the shelf.
Effie had to force her attention away from the way his arm muscles flexed as he slowly painted the shelf. The time and care he was taking. The focus. Her mind couldn’t help but wonder what else his inner patience might be good at. Her face flushed at the turn her thoughts had taken and she shoved them away. She couldn’t, wouldn’t think of Jake like that. He’d thought she was a seal for God’s sake!
‘Think you’ve got it?’
‘Uh-huh,’ Effie spluttered as she fumbled around for another brush, all other words tangled in her throat.
