Page 51 of Trusting the Fall
“We’re taking Aunt Georgia out for her birthday next weekend. Can you make it on Sunday?”
“Of course, send me the details, and I’ll be there.”
“Okay. Any plus ones I should add on?”
“Wow. Is that coming from you, or has Mum just trained you that well?”
“See, I told you he’d know that came from you!” he shouts just far enough away from the mouthpiece that it’s not ringing in my ears.
“Worth a shot!” Mum calls through the distance.
I chuckle. “Just me, Dad. No plus one.”
“Well, we’re still just as happy to have you there.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll text you later with a time. Love you.”
“Love you, too.” I smile as I put my phone back in my pocket, then join Jeremy to move the tiles.
We work together, moving stacks in each room where they’ll be needed so the tilers can work quicker when they come in tomorrow to put them down.
We haven’t had the guys in to hook up the air con in the salon yet, and the early November heat is working hard today. I pull my shirt over my head and pop my hat back on, flipping it backwards while we finish up.
It’s just after midday when Jeremy heads to the cafe a few doors up to grab us a quick lunch. We’ll start cutting and replacing the skirting boards once we’ve eaten.
I hear footsteps coming through the back door, expecting to see Jem, but when I look up, I’m pleasantly surprised to find Claire.
“Hey.” I smile. I can’t, and won’t, hide my delight that she seems to be fixated on my bare chest. “Eyes up here, Bombshell.”
That pulls her out of her thoughts. Her eyes narrow. I’m pretty sure one even twitches. She’s so fucking cute.
“I just wanted to check how the clean-up was going.” She rests her hand on one hip, tapping a pink-booted foot against the concrete.
Her little steel cap boots are paired with black denim cutoffs. A hot pink blouse is buttoned low on her tanned chest. The soft, glowing skin of her neck is exposed, along with a shoulder her shirt sleeve is barely clutching to.
Shit, has she been coming into the salon all this time looking so goddamn good? I try to relax my jaw where possession has taken root and offer Claire a smile.
“All done. Jeremy and I will finish re-cutting skirting boards this arvo. Once the tiling’s done, they can be installed. The tiles were just delivered, if you’d like to inspect them.” I gesture to one of the stacked palettes behind me.
Claire points her nose up and struts over to me. “Yes, I would.”
She comes to stand next to me, eyebrows raised, lips pinched, and all I can do is stare down at her with a smile. Her gold eyes fly to mine, widening briefly before they narrow once more.
“Well, what are you waiting for? An invitation?” She flicks a hand to the stacked boxes of tiles.
“Sorry, Bombshell.” I chuckle and pull a knife from the tool belt hooked around my cargo shorts.
She gasps and looks around the room, probably checking that we’re alone so no one can hear the nickname that falls so easily from my lips.
“Seriously? With the Bombshell again? What would Jeremy think if he heard you call me that?”
“He’d probably agree, and then I’d have to punch him.” I finish cutting the ties, then pull at the cardboard to reveal the off-white tiles.
Warm grey and gold veins lightly fleck across the stone. They look both modern and classic and tie in nicely with the other pieces of gold in the room.
I look up at Claire to gauge her reaction and see her lips pinned between her teeth.
