He gives me a weird look. ‘Where do you think I might be hiding one?’
‘In your shed? What else have you got in there?’
‘My car.’
‘So you could drive me up to Spaceguard?’ I ask, perking up.
He shakes his head. ‘It’s out of commission. Why do you want to go to Spaceguard?’
‘I have dry clothes in my suitcase.’
‘You brought a suitcase?’ He looks bemused.
‘I’m supposed to be at an Airbnb in Suffolk right now.’
He stares at me. ‘For how long?’
‘A week.’
‘You don’t have to be at work for the next week?’
I shake my head.
‘Where are you staying instead?’
I shrug. ‘I haven’t managed to book anything yet.’
He looks disconcerted as he goes over to the burner and puts another log on the fire, then he walks towards me, his eyes on mine.
My heart thumps harder as he comes to a stop. What’s he doing?
He nods past me pointedly.
Oh. I’m in his way. I step to one side, blushing, and he walks into his bedroom.
I feel awkward as I make my way over to his second butterfly chair and sit down, facing the window. The rain is really coming down. Could I hike back up to my car and get some more clothes? The thunder cracks the sky apart and I stop debating. I’m not going anywhere for a while.
Behind me comes the sound of Ash’s footsteps.
‘Do you still have your bike?’ I ask over my shoulder as his soft grey knitted blanket lands on my lap, together with his answer.
‘Yes.’
‘Oh my God, I’ve missed this blanket!’ I gush, dragging it over my lap.
He doesn’t react, just sits down in the other chair and nonchalantly leans back, resting his ankle on his other knee and propping up his chin with his palm. He stares broodingly out of the window at the rain.
‘Are these your leggings?’ I ask curiously, pulling down the blanket to show him my Y-fronted pants.
A tiny glimmer of a smirk lifts the edge of his mouth before it’s gone again.
‘They’re long johns. They’re warm.Youtry sleeping out here through a cold winter.’
‘Okay, thank you, maybe I will,’ I reply glibly.
‘Ellie,’ he chastises gruffly, his eyes sliding to mine. ‘You know this isn’t going to work.’
‘Oi. That’s my line,’ I jest, even though my stomach has dropped.
