By the time he’d finished the front door, he was covered from head to foot in sanding dust.
He sat down in the shade on the small stretch of grass of his front garden, head back on the wall, eyes closed as he took a long drink from his water bottle.
When he opened them, the man he’d been daydreaming about was standing before him in old denim jeans, rips on theknees, and a white T-shirt that showed every contour of his muscular chest, clutching a plastic bag with,Old Po’s hardware, emblazoned on it in dark blue scrolled italics.
Marcus’s mouth dropped open.
Had this been what Rowan had meant—showing up at his house to help with decorating?
Marcus couldn’t remember if he’d even mentioned decorating that morning to Rowan.
He pulled out his ear buds and pocketed them as he looked up at Rowan with a puzzled expression.
Rowan answered the unspoken question on Marcus’s lips. ‘I was going to surprise you and get all your sanding done before you woke up. Clearly you are more of an early riser than me.’
Marcus scrambled to his feet. ‘Erm, not normally.’ He was gobsmacked. He noticed Atlas sitting near a bush in the shade. ‘Wow, did he choose to sit on my front garden himself?’
Rowan nodded, a clear look of pride displayed on his features.
‘Erm, you have a little something.’ Rowan reached up to Marcus’s nose and ran a finger along it, from the bridge to the tip.
Marcus suddenly felt like he was thirteen again, receiving attention from his first crush.
‘I really appreciate the help. It’s only the mornings before work where I find I have free time to do the house maintenance.’
Rowan pulled out a pair of gloves and a sandpaper block from the bag, pulling on the gloves as he moved closer to the window behind Marcus. ‘No worries. I have a free day anyway.’
Rowan began sanding the sill and Marcus settled on the opposite side of the window frame, mirroring him.
They worked in silence for a few minutes, Marcus glancing Rowan’s way when he was sure he wasn’t looking, so he could watch his bicep flexing. It was hot. The atmosphere was charged,and it felt awkward. The kiss hung heavily between them. Neither one wanting to broach the subject.
Marcus couldn’t stand it any longer. Rowan might like to be broodingly handsome, sultry and silent, but he was a talker—always had been—and always would be.
‘So... Are we going to talk about it?’
Marcus watched Rowan shuffle uncomfortably. ‘About what?’
Marcus stopped sanding and turned to face Rowan. ‘About the kiss, of course.’
Rowan turned away slightly, reaching for a higher part of the frame. Marcus wasn’t sure he’d done it on purpose to avoid looking at him. ‘What is there to talk about? We kissed.’
‘Is that it? Aren’t we going to discuss if there is going to be more to... to whatever this is? Or are we going to pretend it never happened?’
Rowan stopped sanding, his arm dropping to his side like a dead weight. He slowly turned to face Marcus, his eyes soft as they met his. ‘It did happen... and it was wonderful...’ Marcus sensed abut,and braced himself. ‘I don’t know what to say, Marcus. Like you, I don’t know whatthisis.’ He pointed in between himself and Marcus as he spoke. ‘I like you, I really do, and I meant what I said, I’ll show up.’
Marcus sighed exasperated.
‘I don’t know what that means, Rowan. I get that you are here...’
Rowan took a step towards Marcus. ‘It means I’m here for you. I’m here to help you with Ruff to Regal until Georgina comes back. It means I’m here to help you with the dog competition.’
Marcus narrowed his eyes. ‘And us?’
‘That’s where the problem lies...’ Marcus’s breath hitched. ‘Like I said, I really like you, but my contract in Yorkshire won’t last forever.’
Marcus went still.
The scrape of sandpaper from further down the frame seemed suddenly far too loud, though Marcus had thought neither of them was moving.
