His eyebrows go upwards. ‘Even so, I bet it’s a best-seller.’
It’s pouring out before I know it. ‘I never used to be a wimp, but there was this thing, and ever since I’ve been a bit of a… scaredy cat.’
Miles tilts his head and looks at me. ‘The bigger your fears, the better you feel when you face them and come out the other side.’
I’m looking at his grave expression. ‘You say that like it came from the heart.’
He shakes his head. ‘I told you before, and you might not believe it, but I’ve had my struggles which is how I know.’ He pulls a face. ‘The best way to regain your power is to hold your head high, believe in yourself, and move on to better things.’
I bite my lip. ‘Thanks for the advice.’
‘You’re not on your own here.’ He reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze. ‘If you don’t try the shop, you’ll never know, but we’re all here to support you.’
I try to stamp out the tingles that zither down my spine, and give the man credit for being there. ‘Thank you for saying that, too.’
He’s the last person I’d have expected to be helping me but here it is. Whatever makes me feel better, I’ll take it where I can.
He releases my fingers and grins at me. ‘I’m not giving orders, but if you put the postcards out, I can move the tables to where you’d like them, and we’ll get this show on the road.’
I laugh. ‘Before I have any more wobbles, you mean?’
‘I didn’t say that.’ He holds his expression. ‘But yes.’
I’m asking myself how he’s so strategic. ‘Do you have sisters?’
He smiles. ‘Nope, but I’ve been very well trained by a female.’
‘Your girlfriend again.’ It’s a statement not a question, and there’s a twang in my chest as I say it.
‘Something like that.’ He raises one eyebrow. ‘She’s more of a woman than a girl.’
Kerching. ‘Good point well made, Milo. We all are these days.’ I pick up some cards, cross to the rack and begin to slide them in. ‘If you’re serious about the tables, one by the window and the others across the centre, please, and the shelf units against the left-hand wall.’
‘I appreciate a decisive boss.’ When he moves into action, flipping the furniture, it’s hard to take my eyes off him.
I give a cough. ‘Just making sure you’re getting things in the right place.’
He sends me a wicked grin. ‘Here’s me thinking you’re checking out my six pack so you can go and write about it on the beach.’
Now I’ve heard it all. ‘You are so up yourself, Miles Appleton.’
His smile spreads. ‘I’ll be walking back along there later to check, just so you know, Betsy Beth Bradwell.’
I roll my eyes. ‘I can see your car from here, so I know that’s not true.’
His smile fades. ‘Wind-ups really aren’t my style. But there could actually be another surprise coming your way that you may find challenging.’
I shake my head. ‘Now you sound like Mystic Meg. Please just move the furniture, then go and get on with your proper job.’ I watch him pick up the next table. ‘If you want a drink before you go, help yourself. The kitchen’s under the overhang, and there are cans in the fridge. They’re Scarlett and Tate’s, but they’re almost out of the date, so we may as well drink them.’
Miles swings the two shelf units into place. ‘With my current interest in baking, I never pass up a chance to check out the facilities.’ As he passes me he picks up a card and squints at it. ‘What the heck are pony raids?’
I laugh. ‘“Ponyridesthis way”, not raids.’ I give him a nudge. ‘Should have gone to Specsavers. In case you miss it, the fridge is the big silver thing.’
I watch his spectacular rear disappear into the distance, then give myself a telling off. At this rate of progress, I’ll still be sorting postcards when it’s dark.
28
The Net Loft, St Aidan
