Chapter 1

Chapter On e

Rory

Y ou know what I really needed after a super shitty day at work?

A flood in my kitchen.

I dropped my messenger bag on the floor, whimpering in dismay at the water pooling from under the cupboards. Why did this stuff always happen to me? It wasn’t like I was a bad person. I donated to charity. I helped little old ladies cross the road. I even snuck free coffee to Paul, the homeless bloke who slept in the doorway next to the cafe where I worked.

That last one had got me in trouble far more times than I could count, but seeing as we were understaffed as it was, I wasn’t going to be fired for it any time soon. Besides, it wasn’t like the massive chain I worked for was going to suffer the loss of one fucking Americano.

So why did the universe love to pick on me? First there was my car, which gave up the ghost two months ago, and I couldn’t afford to get it repaired until the New Year. Then there was the heating, which had packed up three weeks ago, yet my landlord had still not managed to get anyone to repair it. No amount of pointing out that he legally had to provide heat had got him to move any faster. Probably a bit difficult for Michael to be bothered given he wasn’t even in the country. No, he was in Spain, not needing to worry about trivial things like heating. The fucker used my rent, and the money from his many other properties to keep him in a lifestyle even Kim Kardashian might call excessive.

All that plus the fact that tomorrow was Christmas Day, a holiday I’d be celebrating alone once again, added up to one thing.

The universe was out to get me.

Yes, I was being a bit ridiculous. All of these were first world problems, but given how little I had going for me in my life right now, this flood was honestly the final straw.

Grabbing every towel I had available, I set about mopping up the water as best I could. Problem was, I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

It was no good. I was going to have to call Michael.

It took four attempts before he finally answered. His greeting was slurred, a loud band playing in the background.

Alright for some.

“Michael, it’s Rory from two Wren’s View. I’m sorry to bother you but?—”

“This isn’t about the fucking heating again, is it? I’ve told you, I’ve got a bloke coming.”

I gritted my teeth. Four months until the lease is up, then you’ll be free of this house and this man. Assuming I could find something else in my price range, that was. I’d been lucky to find this place.

Well, lucky was the wrong word, all things considered, but at least I had a roof over my head. Could be worse, I supposed. I could be back living with my ultra-conservative parents and their belief that I ‘just hadn’t met the right girl yet.’

There was no hiding my fabulousness, and I didn’t intend to try ever again. I’d take shitty landlords like Michael over my judgemental ‘parents’ any day. It’d been eighteen months since I’d moved here, and I had no intention of moving back any time soon.

“It’s not about that. I think a pipe has burst. The kitchen’s flooded. ”

The litany of curses that erupted from Michael was a thing of beauty. When he was done, he went with his usual approach. “Well, you must’ve broken it somehow.”

I didn’t know what Michael’s other tenants were like, but I was absolutely not going to be bullied into accepting the blame. “Can’t see how that’s possible, Michael. It’s not like I’ve removed the cupboards from the wall and taken a hacksaw to the pipes, is it? Now, are you going to call a plumber, or would you prefer to wait until it’s spread into the living room? The carpet is terrible in there, so I’m happy to go with that option. It’d mean more money for you in the long run, but I’m sure you’ve got plenty to burn.”

Thirty seconds later, I hung up triumphantly. Naturally, Michael had declared himself far too busy to make the call himself but had begrudgingly agreed I could do it on his behalf. He’d also be footing the bill. He’d announced that part magnanimously, like it wasn’t in the fucking contract between us.

Whatever. At least I had a solution now.

It wasn’t until I pulled up the number for the local plumber that I realised what this would mean. Who exactly I was about to call.

Owen.

“Oh heck,” I whispered, already feeling warmth climbing up my neck and spreading across my cheeks. I hadn’t even dialled yet and already I was tongue-tied.

Owen was a regular at the cafe where I worked. It wasn’t a surprise really, given we were the only option in a three-mile radius. Why an international chain had decided to open a shop in rural Wales was beyond me, but again, I wasn’t going to bite the hand that fed me.

Anyway, Owen stopped in every morning on his way to work. Five days a week, for the past eighteen months, this rugged, handsome man had walked into the cafe and placed the same order. One vanilla latte and a blueberry muffin. And every single time, I made a fool of myself.

The first time it’d happened, I’d chalked it up to nerves. Owen was like every one of my teenage fantasies brought to life. I wasn’t short at six foot, but he seemed to tower over me. His chest, always covered in the threadbare maroon polo he wore for work, was the perfect size for me to fall asleep on. Tattoos covered every inch of skin on his arms, disappearing under his sleeves. Occasionally, his calloused fingers would brush against mine as I handed him his order, and I’d imagine how they’d feel against other parts of my body.

It was bad enough in winter, but summer added a whole new layer of deliciousness to Owen. On those hot days, he’d swap his worn blue jeans for a pair of shorts.

Let me tell you, I didn’t used to think I had a thing for calves. Owen’s though? They made me drool. The thick muscles covered in a layer of dark hair had me wanting to write sonnets dedicated to their existence.

The first time I saw him, I couldn’t to stop staring, which seemed to embarrass Owen. He’d flushed as red as his shirt, keeping his gaze firmly fixed on the counter between us.

Honestly, when was I going to learn that some people, especially straight men, didn’t like you eyeing them up like a piece of meat?

I’d tried desperately to find my power of speech, but all that came out was muttered gibberish. Owen had mumbled his order back so quietly that I’d had to ask him to repeat it twice before I caught it.

I hated that I’d made him so uncomfortable.

From then on, I kept my eyes firmly averted whenever he stepped through the door, saving my longing looks for when he was leaving. My misguided hope that maybe he was gay had been dashed on his second week there, when his mate had asked about the girl he’d hooked up with a couple of weeks before.

It made me all the more determined to not make a fool of myself. Having a crush on a straight man in your mid-twenties was, quite frankly, humiliating.

Despite not making eye contact with him, I still managed to embarrass myself in other ways. Occasionally he seemed to be in a chattier mood, making small talk. It always caught me off guard, making me stumble over my words and spill whatever I was holding. Once I’d even managed to trip over thin air and land flat on my face behind the counter.

Owen, being the gentleman he was, had rushed around to help me to my feet. Those few seconds when he touched me had had heat dancing over me. In my head, I had us married with a truckload of kids.

I didn’t even want children.

If making a tit of myself by falling over wasn’t enough, Owen then invited me out for dinner after my shift so he could make sure I was okay. It was almost like he was blaming himself for my ineptitude and extending the invite out of guilt.

Of course I’d said no. Well, I’d shaken my head as I stammered out what I thought was a negative response before turning tail and running to hide in the storeroom. As much as I would’ve loved the chance to spend a few hours in Owen’s company, that wasn’t a good idea. It’d only feed my pointless crush. Besides, I couldn’t even form a sentence around the man—it was laughable to think I could keep up an entire conversation.

Well, the joke was on me. Fate was making it happen, regardless of how I felt.