Chapter Twenty-Nine
Fin
I’d decidedto spend the remainder of the day being anywhere Rory wasn’t, though mostly holed up in the tiny site office that I’m sure was once a broom closet. I suppose I should’ve been relieved the space was an internal one, and as such had no windows. It meant I’d avoided inadvertent sightings of that copper-lit halo of hair, that there’d been no drooling over his jeans clad ass.Filled out perfectly both back and front.And definitely no longing glances as he toiled over garden beds.
No windows = no trouble. Just lots of imagining.
The gym equipment had arrived that afternoon and though the house is still a ways from being ready for a paying clientele, its gym-space can now accommodate their work-outs just fine. Pale wooded floors and gleaming mirrors, work-out equipment clearly worth tens of thousands of dollars, and a sauna large enough to seat a football team. It’s the kind of space world class hotels pride themselves on.And I would know.And it’s where I am currently, tidying up the following day. I guess Rory must be taking a leaf out of my avoidance manual as I haven’t seen him all day.
‘The fine Finola!’
I turn from rubbing fingerprints from the expanse of mirrors, knowing only one person who’d dare address me like this. Mac. It’s his company that was contracted to supply the machinery yesterday.
‘You’re late.’
‘Ah, come on. It’s not like there’s much going on here anyway.’
‘That’s not the point,’ I return, tucking the cloth into the back pocket of my jeans and folding my arms. ‘It’s very unprofessional to make an appointment and not turn up. Especially with friends.’
‘I know, I know,’ he placates, holding up surrendering hands. ‘I’d’ve rang but I’ve had a bit of a problem, see?’ Opening the pocket of his jacket, he pulls out a plastic ziplock bag containing his phone. And a whole lot of brown rice.
I try to hide a snigger by coughing into my hand. ‘What happened?’
‘Nat rang me this morning. There was something wrong with one of the basins in the salon.’ His tone is wry as he opens his jacket, sliding the bag away. ‘So I went over to look, like the good brother I am.’
‘More like trying to get into someone’s good books.’ Less for Ivy’s benefit than his.
‘Aye, well,’ he says, ignoring me. ‘I was leaning over the thing when my phone fell out of my shirt pocket into the basin of water. And the bastarding thing’s now kaput.’
‘Oh, too bad. Whose idea was the rice?’
‘The wee granny manning the place. She’d give Hitler a run for his money.’
‘You leave June alone. She’s cool.’
‘She’s a couple of sarnies short of a full picnic. She put my phone in a bag of cooked rice first.’
Sounds about right. ‘She means well.’
‘She doesn’t like me.’
‘Hmm, and why would that be, I wonder?’
‘Well, I might have called into the salon last night, you know, to make sure everything was all right, like Ivy asked—’
‘She only left yesterday.’
‘Aye, well—’
‘And I’m there every day.’
‘I know, but—’
‘But you like Natasha, and maybe you were hoping to catch her on her own?’
Mac laughs, rubbing a hand against the scruff on his chin.Early beard production in the works for a certain peroxide blonde?‘Shame it was her granny I caught instead.’
‘Don’t tell me you gave her a show like the other night.’
