“Yes, of course,” Felix said slowly. “She entrusted you to my care and?—”
“Oh my God,” I said, anger helping me to fully regain control of my vocal cords. “I am not a child! Felix, I’m twenty-seven years old. I don’t have to beentrustedto anyone.”
He huffed. “Lucy, I would believe you if you weren’t still limping and not getting anything checked out. Instead you’re freezing to death in this flat that… wait a minute.” Felix pulled athis shirt colour and shrugged off his suit jacket. “You said there was a cold draught? It’s bloody boiling in here.”
I scowled at him. “Felix, I feel the cold. Now, did you just come here to lecture me about my post-injury care?”
He rolled up his sleeves and frowned at the extra heater I had blasting the room. “How are you still cold?”
I huffed. Seriously if he was going to come here and boss me about in a deeply non-sexual way, then he could just bugger off so I could go back to fantasising about Imaginary Felix who bangedmeinstead of banging on about going to the hospital and my cold intolerance.
“It’s very, er, orange in here,” he said slowly, taking in the rest of the room. It was my turn to cross my arms over my chest.
“Not all of us like unrelenting grey and white, Felix.”
“Clearly,” he muttered, moving across the room and fingering the leaves of one of my many plants. I enjoyed colour, plants and lots of books in my environment. Organised clutter was how I liked to term it.A bloody messwas more my brother’s description. Felix cleared his throat. “Right, well if you won’t let me take you, then I at least need to look at your ankle.”
I made another deeply embarrassing “eep” sound.
Felix rolled his eyes. “Lucy, look it’s my fault that you twisted your ankle in the first place, by making you wear those shoes. I feel responsible and I need to know that nothing’s broken. Then he moved to me, put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down onto the sofa. It was dangerously close to what Imaginary Felix would do in this situation, and I had another head rush at the feel of his large hands even though it was through three fairly thick layers. Another “eep” escaped when he sat next to me on the sofa, right on the duvet nest, and picked up both my fluff-covered feet from the floor into his lap.
“I just want to say at this point,” I said in a hoarse voice, “that I do not think this is necessary, and—” My lips clampedtogether in shock as Felix pulled off the fluffy slipper on my injured leg.
“Jesus Christ, how many socks do you have on?” he muttered as he pulled off the thick sock underneath, then the medium-thickness thermal sock under that. When he finally made it to my actual foot he pushed up the leg of my flannel pyjamas and froze. I watched him stare intently at my foot and ankle for a long moment before he swallowed and his jaw clenched tight. “Your feet are really small,” he said, and it was his voice that was hoarse this time. I blinked at him, unsure how to respond to that comment. Was it a compliment? He sounded like he was actually in pain and he still hadn’t moved. “I…” he trailed off and swallowed again. “Lucy, I’m going to touch your ankle now, okay?”
He tore his gaze away from his intense inspection of my lower leg to look up at my face. All I was capable of was a short nod. Then his hands were on me and it felt like my heart might just stop in my chest. One of his large, warm, dry hands enclosed my ankle, pressing on both sides whilst the other tilted my foot from side to side.
“Does it hurt?” he asked, his voice now so hoarse and low he was almost growling.
“N–n–no,” I managed to stutter out. To be honest, I doubted that in that very moment, I was able to feel any pain. I would have probably told him a gunshot wound was fine right then. At my voice, his gaze snapped back up to mine, and our eyes locked. He searched my face for a long moment, his jaw ticking as his hand on my ankle slid up just an inch under my pyjama leg. I sucked in a sharp breath, willing him to go on, feeling like I’d die if he didn’t, but then he blinked rapidly, breaking the connection.
“Shit,” he muttered under his breath before he sprang up from the sofa like it was on fire. I was still frozenin my duvet nest, the head rush from having his hands on me making my thoughts fuzzy around the edges. He tore his hand through his hair and took two rapid steps back from me. “Right, right.” He cleared his throat before shoving his hands into his pockets. “Okay, so that’s good. No need to take you to the emergency department. I’ll… er, I’ll see you at work.”
He stalked out of my living room and down the hallway, slamming my front door behind him before I even had time to blink. I sat there frozen for a full minute before a series of sharp knocks sounded from my door again. I managed to make it to the door on wobbly legs just as Felix said, “Lock up, Lucy,” through the wood. I nodded even though he couldn’t see me, and after I’d pushed the last deadbolt in place, I swore I heard “Good girl” again before I heard his footsteps retreat down the steps away from the door.
Chapter 8
“She’s unhappy.”
Felix
“I’m trying, Mum. Really I am.” Lucy’s voice stopped me in my tracks on my way out of the office. What was she doing here this late? It was after seven. The rest of the desks were long deserted. I’d had to stay to try and sort a planning application that was up the spout. But there was no reason forherto be here. “But you don’t understand how very crap I am at this job. I got a whole spreadsheet of stuff wrong today so now I have to stay to sort it out, except I don’t bloody understand Excel at all. So I’m about as likely to sort it as the Buckingham Rovers are of winning the league.”
I smiled at the mention of the most crap football team of all time. Mike, Ollie and I had spent many summers playing for their youth squad. After terms of amazing sporting equipment and top-class sports teachers at school, coming home and playing for the Buckingham Rovers, where the footballs were barely kept inflated and Barry the coach with his twenty-a-day habit wheezed his way through the most bizarre football advice ever given, was quite the contrast. I had the piss taken out of mefor being a posh wanker, the tackles were rarely legal… but it was bloody good fun.
I kept walking towards the sound of Lucy’s voice but paused just around the corner from her desk when she sighed, and I heard a small hitch in her breath as she did it. She sounded a little hoarse when she spoke again, and for some reason, that made my chest tighten.
“My boss is really mean,” she said, just above a whisper. “And I don’t blame him because honestly, I’msocrap, but… Mum, nobody likes me here. I haven’t made a single friend. And I’m cold.” Another pause. “No, no, I have to wear thisfancystuff now. No jumpers. It’s like a bloody fridge in here.”
My eyebrows went up at that. A fridge? I kept the office at a comfortable temperature. It wasn’t exactly Baltic.
“I know, I’m wearing it now, Mum. But I can’t very well trot around the office in a puffa jacket that goes to my ankles and essentially looks like I’m wearing a sleeping bag all day. That’s not professional… Mum, I don’t think you understand what kind of business Felix’s running here. It’s not a jolly, cosy little office. And he’s not the same. I’m never going to fit into this world. Coming here was a mistake. I think I need to come back home.”
Bloody hell. I was failing Hetty. I’d never been very good at accepting failure. I’d just have to turn this around. I owed it to Hetty to sort Lucy out. When I strode around the corner, Lucy jumped in her chair, and her eyes went wide. She looked utterly ridiculous in a huge puffa coat that was zipped up to her chin, a pair of fingerless gloves that had seen better days on her hands, and a fluffy wool hat pulled down over her ears.
“Er… Mum, I—” Before she could make up any excuses for her mother, I snatched the phone out of her hand.
“Hetty?”
