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“Bear’s sending one of his team over to help,” I tell her, grabbing a bottle of water from the pack on the table.
“Oh, lovely!”
“Thanks, Bear.”
“Catch you later.” He heads out.
“I’m heading back up,” I tell her. “Everything okay?”
“Yep! I’m enjoying myself.” She gives me a quick smile, then looks back at the books.
I’d like to stay and talk to her, but I’m determined to keep my distance, so I return upstairs.
I spend an hour taking more loose rubbish out to the skip, then start work on polishing the bed frame. It’s solid, unlacquered brass, and the guy in the hardware store recommended something called Bar Keepers Friend Cleanser. I slather it on all over the frame, then start rinsing it off and polishing it.
Sometime later, I hear Vix call out, “Coffee time,” as she comes up the stairs.
I stop and toss the cloth down, happy to take a break. “In here.”
She comes into the bedroom and stops abruptly.
I lift my eyebrows. “What?”
She blinks rapidly. I look down. I took off my tee ages ago, and my torso is streaked with sweat and dirt.
“Sorry, I know I’m filthy.” I move forward to take the coffee cup out of the holder in her hand, because she seems to have forgotten she’s holding it.
“Some girls like that.” She lifts her gaze to mine. Her eyes have a hot, impish gleam.
Amused, I lift the cup out of the holder. “Now, now.”
She looks back at my torso, her gaze brushing over my skin and giving me goose bumps. “You’ve been working out.” She sips her coffee, fascinated.
I flex. “Boy muscles.”
She chuckles. “It’s warm up here.”
“Yeah, let’s get some fresh air.” I gesture for her to precede me, and I follow her out across the living room to where I’ve opened the doors onto the balcony. “How are you doing?” I ask.
“Good. Found another couple of gems.” She’s tucked two books under her arm, and she shows me the top one. “It’s another first edition, I think.” It’s a Katherine Mansfield book, The Garden Party and Other Stories. Mansfield was a prominent New Zealand author. “I looked it up, and you can tell it’s a first edition because it has a typo: the word ‘sposition’ instead of ‘disposition’.”
“Oh, interesting.”
“Yeah, and it has its original dust jacket. Should fetch eight to ten thousand dollars.”
“Jeez! Terrific. What’s the other one?”
“This one’s for you.” She turns it around. It’s called, The Young Man’s Guide to Manners and Etiquette.
“Sorry, what are you implying?”
She grins and opens the book to a page she’s marked. “‘How to Behave When Calling on a Young Lady,’” she reads.
“Oh, this is going to be good.”
“‘A gentleman should never presume to visit a lady without first obtaining permission.’” She lifts her gaze to mine. “You’ve been coming into my house without permission.”
“Your daughter keeps inviting me.”
