Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

Rose

The start of this week flew by in a whirlwind of sawdust, Phillip's terrible singing, and laughter. In spite of trying to maintain a professional distance, a course of action I abandoned yesterday the moment Phillip pressed his leanly muscled body against mine when he caught the mugs, I've had more fun this past week than in the last few months. While Phillip was right in saying I didn't need to watch him cut and sand down the panels, I wanted to come back and see how it was done. If I also happened to be glad for the excuse to spend more time in his company, well, nobody else needed to know that.

Being in a room with Phillip is like standing under the warm summer sun, the glow of his attention nearly impossible to resist. Making use of the dining chair he moved out to the garage for me, I sat in the corner with my tablet the past couple of days finalising smaller details of how I want to paint the set and trying to come up with some new ideas for my own work, all while pretending not to glance over at him every few minutes. He definitely noticed, but if the self-satisfied glint in his eyes and the appearance of his dimples were anything to go by, he didn't mind.

Now we're applying the first sealing coat to the freshly prepared wood panels where they're propped against the wall. We'll need to apply a few coats before they're ready for me to paint but I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. Phillip is to my right, focused on one panel while I carefully apply a coat to another. He's working faster than I am, unaffected by our closeness, while I can't say the same.

The sleeves of his flannel shirt are pushed up to just below his elbows and I can barely tear my eyes away from the hypnotising way his muscles bunch and relax with every movement. Just as I'm mustering the self-control to once again refocus on the task at hand, Phillip glances over, catching me looking. His eyes twinkle with amusement and those damn dimples appear as a smile spreads across his face like he's pleased I'm checking him out.

"You know," he begins slowly, voice low and teasing, "I've never understood the fascination some women have with forearms." Heat sparks in his eyes, the calm blue pools turning stormy with desire as his gaze roves over my body. This is not the relaxed, joking Phillip I've become used to. My pulse spikes under his intense focus and I squeeze my thighs together. He takes a small step closer, testing his welcome and I panic.

"Coffee!" I blurt out, stepping back and breaking the sizzling tension.

"What?" His brow furrows in confusion.

"I'm getting a coffee. Do you want one?" I ask more coherently, even if I am talking in too high a pitch to be considered normal.

"Sure." He smiles again which only serves to make me more flustered. "I'll join you in a minute."

Abandoning the brush I've been using, I scuttle through to the kitchen at record speed. I cannot afford to keep thinking of Phillip this way. It's completely inappropriate. We're colleagues. Sort of friends. Friends don't get turned on checking each other out. Pretty sure there's a rule about that somewhere. I need to pull myself together. Although… I wasn't the only one pushing the boundaries of friendship out there. It was like all the accidental touches and stolen glances from the past week reached boiling point, but I'm not ready for that.

In spite of myself, I have to suppress a shiver just thinking about the way Phillip's gaze raked over me. What would have happened if I stayed instead of freaking out? No . I need to ignore whatever the hell that was. It doesn't matter because I am not dating right now. I am focusing on work.

I set about boiling the kettle and grabbing two teaspoons from the drawer. If my hands shake a little bit, well, I'm blaming that on low energy levels not any feelings Phillip's damn forearms may have inspired.

While waiting for the kettle to boil, I wash up our old mugs from the drinks Phillip made earlier this morning, then set them on the drying rack. In a now familiar routine, I open the top cabinet for fresh mugs only to discover there are none there. My brows lower. Strange. I scan the countertop and freeze, heart squeezing as I realise what's changed.

There, in the corner of the counter sits a mug tree, four mugs dangling from it by their handles. Phillip must have ordered it yesterday, right after seeing me struggle to reach the top cupboard. I'm so touched by the simple gesture that I have to clear my throat a couple of times to dispel the emotion-driven tightness gathered there.

It's one of the most thoughtful things someone has done for me, and the way Phillip did it makes it even more special. He didn't bring me in here first thing this morning and present it, like he deserved a gold star for doing something nice. His kindness is the quiet kind that doesn't seek external validation and praise. It's simply who he is at his core. A kind man. I can't help but notice it's one of many ways Phillip is different to Malcolm. Whenever Malcolm did something nice, it was a showy public performance instead of something private shared by just the two of us. Without an audience he didn't see any reason to try as hard, or even at all.

Refusing to be caught crying over a kitchen accessory, no matter how sweet the gesture, I roll my shoulders back and take two mugs from the stand. I want to at least pretend to have my shit together. As if summoned by the tapping of the teaspoon on the rim of the mugs, Phillip joins me in the kitchen.

"Sofa or counter?" he asks, picking up the drinks.

"Sofa, please." At this point I'll take any excuse to be close to him. It's pathetic.

When I first saw this couch, I thought it was unnecessarily large. Now I can imagine cuddling on it with Phillip at the end of a long day and find myself firmly in favour of the deeper seat cushions. Not that I'll be testing them out.

"That's a nice mug tree you have over there." I tip my head towards the kitchen.

"I think it really adds to the space," Phillip replies, playing along. Reaching over with my free hand I lightly rest it on his knee to make sure I have his attention before I speak, waiting for his gaze to meet mine before holding it with my own.

"Thank you," I say earnestly, needing him to know how much I really do appreciate the gesture. Sure, it was an easy change to make but most people wouldn't have bothered, especially not when my presence here is only supposed to be a temporary thing.

Hope bubbles up in my chest that maybe Phillip wanting me to be comfortable here means he wants me to stick around, but I push the feeling back down. He might be attracted to me but that doesn't mean he wants to do anything about it. God knows, I've failed miserably at disguising my interest in him. If he wanted me for anything more than a bit of flirting, he would have said something.

We drink the rest of our coffees in companionable silence. One of the things I like best about Phillip is that while he's naturally a talkative person, he doesn't feel the urge to fill quiet moments with endless chatter just for the sake of it.

"Are you finished?" I ask, standing up and holding my hand out for his mug.

"I'll get them." Phillip gets to his feet, taking the empty cup from my hands. Trapped between his lean body and the coffee table, my breaths quicken. His broad chest brushes against my arm as he moves past me and I almost stop breathing entirely. Even through layers of clothing his touch sends a shiver racing through me. Gathering myself, I catch him watching me, a small smirk playing on his lips like he did it on purpose.

"We can probably call it a day," he calls out over his shoulder while cleaning up our mugs. I move closer to the kitchen so he doesn't have to shout. "It will take a few hours for the first coat of sealant to dry so there's no sense keeping you waiting." Oh. Admittedly, my undisguised appreciation of his forearms has made things a little weird but I could have sworn my attention wasn't unwelcome. Maybe I was wrong if he's so eager for me to leave now. "We can do another coat together tomorrow."

"Sounds good. I guess I'll just get going then." I start towards the workshop to get my stuff, not wanting to linger if my presence is making him uncomfortable. Instead of looking relieved, Phillip's eyes widen with something I could almost mistake for panic but that can't be right. He's the one putting an early end to our day after all.

"You don't have to rush off." His warm hand captures my wrist in a loose grip. "I just assumed there was something else you'd rather be doing than literally watching paint dry." He smiles, flashing those dangerous dimples again. Powerless to resist his infectious grin, a small laugh escapes me.

"You're right," I agree. "As much as you've grown on me, even you can't make that interesting." His head falls back with the force of his laughter, exposing the column of his throat.

"That's truly high praise coming from you," he replies around another chuckle and I roll my eyes. "Actually," he begins, a faint blush spreading across his cheeks as he runs a hand through his hair, something I've noticed he does when he's nervous. "I was thinking about ordering pizza for dinner. Would you like to stay and eat with me?"

"Yeah, sure," I reply, so surprised by the offer I agree without thinking.

"Great." He grins, bringing up a delivery app on his phone. "What toppings do you want?"

"Ham and pineapple's my favourite but I know not everyone likes it," I answer warily. Malcolm was always a dick about my pizza preference, never letting me order it when he was around. Honestly, the more time that passes since the break-up the more I realise what an arsehole he was. Phillip perks up.

"That's my favourite too." He smiles, adding a large ham and pineapple pizza to the basket. "This was meant to be," he jokes. "Sides? Oh, should I order some of those warm chocolate chip cookies?" he asks with the excitement of a schoolboy.

"Definitely get the cookies." I nod solemnly. He places the order then sets his phone down on the coffee table.

"All done. Do you mind if I get changed real quick?"

"Go ahead." I wave him off with a smile, forcing all thoughts of a naked Phillip from my mind.

I accepted his invitation to stay before thinking it through and it's only just dawning on me that we'll be spending time together outside of the set project. Alone. The food's ordered, but I know I could still change my mind and Phillip would be fine about it. But the moment I agreed to stay his face lit up and the truth is… I don't want to be anywhere else.