Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Rose

After what ended up being quite a late night with Phillip, I curse my alarm when it goes off, yanking me from sleep. I slap my hand across my bedside table, searching for my phone so I can hit the off button. Getting home so late with work the next day wasn't the best idea, and I'd been too worked up to go to sleep right away. A simple kiss on the cheek shouldn't have had such an effect on me, but between the closeness with Phillip and the realisation that he feels the same way about me I needed some relief before I could fall asleep. Spending a little quality time with my vibrator helped burn off the jittery false energy and I fell into a deep sleep soon after. This morning my tired eyes feel like someone has thrown sand in them but I can't bring myself to regret the late night.

After dragging myself into the bathroom for a quick shower, I dress in a pair of jeans already covered in splatters of paint and a seafoam-green jumper. Shoving my hair up into a messy bun, I grab my bag and head out for the day.

Unfortunately, the bus journey over to Phillip's allows time for my nerves to build up. Will things be different between us today now we've admitted we're attracted to each other? Worse, will he somehow know I was so worked up after spending an entire evening with him that I brought myself to orgasm while thinking about him? I have zero poker face, my blush is bound to give me away. I don't think he'd mind me using a fantasy of him to get myself off, but still, it feels a little awkward now I'm about to see him again.

Butterflies flutter in my chest while I wait for Phillip to answer the door. I've never felt this excited and nervous to be spending time with a man. It's not like this is even a date. I'm here to work.

Phillip opens the door wearing jeans, work boots, a white t-shirt, and flannel shirt. The overshirt is unbuttoned, his t-shirt fitted enough to hint at the muscle definition underneath. He clears his throat and I whip my head up, embarrassed at being caught checking him out.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." He grins cheekily, eyes sparkling with mischief. "I like you looking at me, Rose." He steps forward and brushes a featherlight kiss against my cheek before running his palms down my arms to take my hands and tug me over the threshold. "Let me take that," he murmurs against my ear, stepping back with my bag in hand before I can think to argue.

Phillip saunters off down the hall, leaving me standing there gaping like a goldfish. I had not been expecting that. Not that I thought he would ignore the way things have changed between us, but this kind of teasing is new. I'm not sure I can take a full day of it.

I notice the lights are already on in the garage when I catch up to Phillip, evidence that he's already been hard at work. He seems to be in the habit of starting at eight and finishing at four, sometimes earlier if he needs to pick up his nephew from school on the rare occasions the nanny his brother hired is unavailable. Even though I'm eager to get to work, I can't resist hovering near the corner of the workshop reserved for his other carpentry projects. After all, yesterday he promised to show me his latest piece and I'm excited to get a proper look at the blanket box he's been working on.

"You don't have to show me," I tell him gently, placing a reassuring hand on his forearm when I realise he looks unsure.

"No, I want to. It's just been a while since anyone but Toby and my customers have wanted to see my work. Guess I'm a little nervous." He smiles sheepishly. Without further preamble he takes my hand and leads me over to his workstation. "This is it." Removing the dust sheet, he steps aside so I can get a better look, and for a moment I'm rendered speechless.

The craftsmanship is astounding. Twisting branches and gnarled tree trunks are intricately carved into the wood. Something that looks like it will become a deer is emerging in the bottom left corner of the panel he's currently working on and there is a tiny squirrel perched on a branch up to the right. Before meeting Phillip, I never thought much about woodworking but seeing everything that goes into it has made me develop an appreciation for the artform. The care he takes chiselling away until every last detail is perfect makes it clear what a true labour of love it is for him. A warm feeling settles in my chest knowing he gets to do something he loves for a living.

"This is going to be beautiful," I tell him, noticing the way his shoulders lower as my words sink in.

"Thank you." His dimples are on full display as he smiles at the compliment, looking more confident now. "I think I'll be able to finish this section today after we get the next coat on the set panels."

"That's great. I can't wait to see it once you've finished and it's all put together." Pink tinges his cheeks at my enthusiasm.

"I'll make sure to show you before dropping it off at the Gardners'."

After we've worked together to get another sealing coat on the set panels, we take a quick break before settling in to focus on our own work. Once again Phillip hums along to his music, I'm used to it now and don't find it distracting. That is until he suddenly starts belting out the words to a Meatloaf song, causing me to melt into a puddle of giggles only made worse when he starts to use his chisel as the pick for his air guitar.

Some people might think it was embarrassing for a grown man to behave this way but I enjoy Phillip's playful side. He's proven that he can be serious when the moment calls for it and that he's reliable. But he won't let me stay too serious for too long. It's something I've never had in a partner but I'm realising now how much I value that. Not that we're in a relationship. Although, since he asked me out, tentative hope that we might be heading in that direction has begun to prick at the back of my mind. Best not to get ahead of myself though.

Phillip

Rose has just left for the evening after telling me to have fun tonight. Blake is due to arrive at six, so I close up the workshop and call it a day. After showering I feel more capable of socialising and decide to make fajitas for dinner, knowing he's coming straight from work and won't have eaten yet either.

I'm still stood in the kitchen, teatowel slung over my shoulder, nudging chicken and vegetables round a frying pan, when the front door bangs open signalling Blake's arrival.

"Kitchen!" I call out.

"Smells great in here," Blake compliments as he wanders in, nose twitching at the mix of spices permeating the air. "Beer?" he offers, raising the pack of four bottles he must have stopped for on the way over.

"You know I have beer, right?"

"Yes, but this is good beer. Now do you want one or not?"

"Please. You know where everything is." I transfer the chicken and veg into a large glass bowl while Blake washes his hands then rifles through a drawer in search of the bottle opener.

Bowls of salsa, guacamole, and grated cheese are already lined up along the counter, and I place the glass bowl onto a protective mat in the middle then add a couple of serving spoons. Blake cracks open our beers, placing the other two in the fridge. He'll only have one since he's driving and I'm not much of a drinker so they'll probably sit there until the next time he comes over.

Tossing a couple of tortillas on a plate to heat in the microwave I ask, "How was work?"

"Not great." He grimaces. "Some of my students are doing their best to become the bane of my existence. Happens to a few in every year group. They leave home for the first time, become wholly responsible for themselves, and they either sink or swim. I do my best to help anyone struggling with the work, you know that, but the ones that don't bother to even attempt the coursework then act surprised their current grades are shit piss me off." He grabs the tortilla I offer him, tossing it onto his plate a little too forcefully.

"You had parents ringing you then?"

"I had parents ringing my boss ," he gripes and I wince in sympathy. "Two different second-year kids didn't bother to do the reading I set for over the summer break. Because of that they failed the test I gave, yet somehow it's my fault? If there's one thing I can't stand, it's entitlement. I gave them both a lot of chances last year, then verbal and written warnings when that didn't work. Instead of taking their chance for a degree seriously they've ignored me and run to their rich parents when things haven't gone their way."

Spoilt rich kids are a sore spot for Blake after growing up in that world. At twenty-one he gained an inheritance so large he doesn't need to work, but he always wanted to make something of himself outside his family name. Teaching creative writing at the local university is his passion and for him to be teaching at Riverbend University he has to be damn good at his job too. It might not be Oxford or Cambridge, but Riverbend is still one of the top ranked universities in the country. He loves teaching but, like with any job, there are still some downsides.

All that isn't to say he hasn't touched his inheritance, far from it. The man has a nicer house than most could ever dream of buying and we met a few years ago when he hired me to create a custom formal dining room set. I had been prepared to suck up dealing with some snobby guy for the hefty paycheck but Blake turned out to be nothing like what I expected. Once I stopped making assumptions about him, like a dick, we became friends pretty quickly. Sure, he was kind of pretentious about some stuff but he'll just as soon grab a beer at the local pub as head out for a meal at an exclusive restaurant.

"Enough about uni shit." Blake takes a swig of his beer. "Tell me about the artist. She still hate your guts?" He smirks, clearly expecting the answer to be yes. He had to cancel our plans for a drink last week, so he has no idea how much things between Rose and I have changed.

I wait until he takes a large bite of his fajita before replying, "You know her name's Rose and I'd say it's going pretty well. I'm taking her out for dinner tomorrow." He nearly chokes on his mouthful of food.

"How on earth did that happen?" he asks, eyes watering. I nudge his beer towards him and he takes a grateful swig.

"You know some women actually find me charming."

"Yeah," he scoffs, "but not her. You said yourself, she thought you were an arsehole. Obviously you redeemed yourself. How?"

"Well, when we met for real she was really embarrassed, but we both agreed to move on and start fresh. She was still a little…"

"Prickly?" I pin him with a flat look.

" Guarded at first. Her ex is a piece of shit, really knocked her confidence. But once we started working together, we clicked. She is so fucking talented, man. Here." I thrust my phone towards him with Rose's website pulled up.

"This is her work?" He sounds impressed which is a good sign. Even I can see Rose's work is special, but Blake actually knows stuff about art. He has a bit of a collection forming in his house and is always on the lookout for something new.

"This says she's on a break. Is that just while she works on the set with you?" Blake has moved from the gallery section of the site to her ‘about me' page.

"No it's…" I trail off, not wanting to share more than Rose would be comfortable with. "She decided to take a break before this project came up. She's been trying to come up with new ideas but I don't think she's started anything new yet. It might be a while before she starts selling her work again."

"She's got quite the following," Blake muses, not really listening to me, distracted by scrolling through Rose's social media. A devilish grin spreads across his face. It's the look he got before convincing me to enter a triathlon with him and I hate swimming. It's a bloody dangerous look.

"This is brilliant. I have a friend guest-lecturing at the university, she's organised a small gallery show in a couple of months. Just yesterday she was telling me someone dropped out. Rose's work will fit in perfectly. I could put in a call, see if she's still looking for an artist to fill the spot?"

I wince. "That's not a good idea."

"Why not? It's for up-and-coming artists and Rose clearly fits the bill. This could be a fantastic opportunity for her." Blake gives me what I call his ‘stern professor' face. It's a wonder any students give him grief when he has that glare in his arsenal.

"I'm not one of your students, that face doesn't work on me. I mean it, man, Rose is really sensitive about her work at the moment. I don't think she'll be up for a show like that right now."

"You should still ask her. Better for her to know about the opportunity and decline than not tell her at all. You never know, interest in her work from someone other than a man she's becoming romantically involved with could be the confidence boost she needs to get back out there. Besides, I'm only putting out feelers, she might have already filled the spot though I'd be impressed if she managed that in a day?—"

"Fine, I'll ask her." I agree, mostly to put an end to his needling but also because he's right. Rose deserves to make her own decision about the opportunity. "But don't talk to your friend until I have a chance to speak to Rose about it first, OK? I don't want her thinking I'm trying to push her into something she may not be ready for."

"Fine, fine." Blake lifts his hands in acquiescence. I stare him down for a moment making sure he knows how serious I am about this, before getting up to grab us another round of tortillas. I'll talk to Rose as soon as I figure out the best way to bring it up.

I'm tired from a long week but it's still pretty early when Blake decides to head home, leaving me at a bit of a loose end. Moseying through to the living room, I flop onto the sofa and switch on the TV. Even though it's only been a few hours since I last saw her, I miss Rose. Deciding she won't mind me watching the next episode of what I've now dubbed in my mind as ‘our show' since she's already seen them so many times, I pull it up on the streaming service and press play.

Soon enough I'm a couple of episodes deep into the evening and can't resist texting her about it.

Me:

Guess what I'm watching *detective emoji*

After hitting send I worry for a minute, realising I probably shouldn't be interrupting her time with her friends, but then three dots appear on my screen.

Rose:

Without me? *gasping emoji*

Me:

Nice try but I refuse to feel guilty, you already admitted to having watched these loads of times. You're the reason I'm hooked on this show anyway. Going to have to watch another episode tonight. I need answers!

Fair enough. Glad you're enjoying it. Aria doesn't do crime shows so it's good to have someone I can finally talk to about them.

I'm considering that an invitation to text you all of my wild theories.

Please do.

Right, the pressure's on now.

OK first theory… the lawyer is actually their daughter and did it for the money.

Um…

Don't tell me if I'm right or wrong, just enjoy my genius.

Haha OK, Sherlock. What else have you come up with?

As we keep talking I debate telling her about the art show Blake mentioned, but decide against it. Her work is such a sensitive subject, I think it's a conversation best had in person. I'll bring it up at dinner tomorrow.

Deciding to call it a night, I head upstairs and throw on a pair of pyjama bottoms before climbing into bed. My phone chimes with another text from Rose and I feel a goofy smile spread across my face as I type out a quick reply before turning off my bedside lamp.

My excitement for tomorrow reminds me of when I was a little kid looking forward to my birthday and Eric told me the sooner I went to sleep, the quicker the next day would arrive. I wonder if he uses that trick on Toby now? When I close my eyes I'm warmed by a feeling of contentment, knowing the next time they open I'll only have to wait a couple of hours until I see Rose again.