Paper Roses (Confetti Hitched #3)

Chapter 5

five

. . .

Two Days Later

artie

I unlock the front door with the key Mr Davies gave me, but when I push on it, nothing happens. I grunt and then push again. Some peeling paint comes free and falls. I shove a bit harder. “Bloody hell.”

“Let me,” Jed says, and I scoot out of his way as he puts his broad shoulder to the wood. He shoves a couple of times and then the door swings open with a groan worthy of a horror movie.

We immediately put our hands to our mouths. “What is that smell ?” I whisper.

Jed grimaces. “Most squats smell like this. It’s a combination of things you probably don’t want to think about right now.”

“Good point. I’d far rather think about puppies and kittens, and the fact that the café down the road does really nice avocado on toast.”

His mouth quirks, and I appreciate the fact that he doesn’t wave for me to go first. Instead, he steps cautiously into the house, and I follow in his wake, peeping around.

“ Shit ,” I say in dismay.

He grunts an agreement.

The windows are boarded up, and the electricity has been switched off, so the only light comes from gaps between the boards. The previously beautiful old wooden staircase is broken in places, and someone has kicked the banister in. There are holes in the walls. The carpet is ripped and stained and there’s graffiti all over the old wallpaper I remember my stepmother choosing. It had cost a fortune, but nothing was too much for my father. He lived to please her.

“Stay here,” Jed orders. “I’m going to have a look around.” I nod placidly but when he sets off, I’m behind him. He shoots me a wry look. “Have you always been this disobedient at work, and I missed it?”

I smile at him. “I’m not under contract as your husband, and I’m pretty sure you won’t be doing a yearly job review.”

I’m expecting his face to shadow at the word husband the way it has for the last few days, but his lips quirk. “That idea is sounding increasingly attractive.”

I grin. “I’m afraid you’ll just have to take me as you find me.”

His eyes twinkle. “ Fascinating ,” he mutters. “Okay stick close to me and tread where I tread.”

I nod, staring around with horror. Each room is worse than the others. Radiators have been ripped off the walls, leaving gaping holes in the wainscoting, light fittings dangle or in some cases have been removed completely. Tangles of wires hang from the ceiling like snakes. It’s cold and dark and feels damp. I’m glad we took the opportunity after work to go back to the hotel and get changed before we came here, because our suits would have been ruined.

I sneak a look at Jed as he moves through the kitchen, stirring something on the floor with his boot with a grunt of distaste. He’s wearing an old pair of jeans that cling to his long legs and an olive-coloured jumper with a white T-shirt underneath.

“Don’t step in that,” he warns.

I nod obediently, because I have zero intention of ever doing that in this life.

We go through to the hallway again, and Jed takes the first step on the main staircase. When the wood groans like it’s in pain, he shakes his head. “I’m not risking that until we see what the damage is. You might fall through it.”

“What about you?” I ask, but he’s already walking down the corridor. I shake my head and follow him. I catch up to him in what used to be my father’s study. The floor-to-ceiling, carved bookcases have been torn down and the scorch marks on the bare wooden floorboards give a clue as to the wood’s final destination. I take in a shaky breath feeling my eyes suddenly get hot as the emotion finally hits me. I remember those shelves being full of books including my mother’s collection of historical romances. I used to sit playing under my father’s desk when he was out. This might have been a place to stay for the squatters, but it was my home .

Hands come down on my shoulders and Jed turns me to him. “Hey,” he says gently, pulling me into a hug. “It’s bad but there’s nothing here that can’t be fixed, sweetheart.”

I sniff. “Do you promise?”

I’m not sure he knows that he just used that endearment again for me, and I try hard not to show my pleasure at hearing it. He’d back off so quickly he’d probably give me whiplash.

He nods solemnly. “I swear . This house will be everything you’ve always wanted, Artie.”

The words chase away my sadness. I nestle into his arms feeling the heat and strength of his body, and then make myself move away. He always makes me feel better.

“You seem familiar with squats,” I say, wanting to change the subject.

He shoots me a wry look and goes along with me. “I’ve broken them up a few times as a copper.”

“Why did you leave the force?” I’m flabbergasted that the question escaped my mouth.

A few weeks ago, I would never have crossed the divide between boss and employee. But perhaps the ring I’m wearing is giving me magical powers, because instead of rebuffing me, he leans against the wall. His face is awash with memory.

“I met Mick when I arrested him. He was naked in a fountain at the time.” I break into laughter, and he huffs in amusement. “He waited for me when I got off duty and asked me to go for a drink. He was larger than life, funny, and very worldly. I was only twenty-five.” The image is so vivid, and I find myself imagining what it would have been like to know Jed at twenty-five. It’s my current age. Somehow that doesn’t seem like a good omen.

“But he made it clear that he was very attracted to me,” Jed continues. “It was amazing that he seemed interested in me.” He shrugs. “I went home with him that night, thinking it would just be once. Only he didn’t want me to leave.” He smiles and the memory is soft on his lips. “So, I didn’t. We dated for a few weeks, and then he asked me to marry him. I said yes like a shot, and after we were married, he asked me to give up the force and work with him. He said he was sick of never seeing me and worried over my constant bad moods.” He shoots me a glance. “I was finding the police work more and more difficult to deal with, so the offer came at a good time. Also, I would have done anything for him. So I came to work at Confetti Hitched.”

I shift position. “And did you ever regret it?”

His eyes narrow for a moment. “Occasionally. I missed being on the force almost as soon as I left, but I’ve learned not to look back in life too much. What do they say? Look back but don’t stare. Well, I’m not staring, and I can’t regret giving myself extra time with Mick when he was taken from me so quickly. I do love the job now.” He shivers and glances at me. “It’s getting cold, and you’re only in that thin jacket, Artie. Let’s hurry this up and get lunch in the pub we passed earlier.”

Giving me a determinedly cheerful smile, he walks off. As I follow, I remind myself that I can’t put myself in Mick’s position. It would be wrong to judge a dead man, and I feel very guilty about doing it, but I can’t help wondering if he should have helped Jed with his work problems rather than thinking of himself. That’s how that little story came across, anyway. Not that Jed realises that. He idolises Mick.

“Artie?” he roars.

“Coming.” I gasp as I walk into the lounge and survey the damage. “This is worse than I imagined.” There are holes in the walls and graffiti everywhere. The huge mirror over the fireplace that my dad bought in Paris is smashed to pieces. “How could she let it get like this?”

“Spite,” Jed offers.

“You might be right.”

“I usually am, although the people at the office don’t seem to realise it.” He looks around in disgust. “There was absolutely no need for it to have got this way. A squat situation isn’t the easiest to deal with, but she had recourse to the police and the council to help with the squatters the same as anyone else. I’d lay odds she chose to do this to get back at you.”

I nod slowly. “You’d be right.”

“But why ?”

“Because she hated me,” I say simply.

“I don’t understand that at all.” The incomprehension in his voice makes me feel warm inside.

“I don’t understand either, but I learnt a long time ago for the sake of my mental health that I don’t need to try. I never did anything to her. I tried to love her when she came into our lives, but she didn’t want that. She didn’t want anything to do with me and only wanted my father. The nicer I was, the worse she became. It was as if she wanted me to act up and be hateful.” I shake my head in disbelief.

“Probably because that would have made it easier for her.”

I look at him in question.

He says, “If you were horrible, she’d have had a good reason to kick you out and be spiteful. The fact you weren’t, probably wound her up to unbelievable levels. Sometimes you can’t help people.”

The sun chooses that moment to shine through a big gap in the boards and a flash of colour from an open cupboard in the corner of the room takes my attention. “That looks like my mother’s Tiffany lamp,” I exclaim. “How on earth is that still here?”

I move round him to look at it, but I step on something, and my foot shoots out from me. I gasp as the marble fireplace looms and I think I’m doomed to hit it, but Jed grabs me, staying my fall with a pained grunt.

We end up in an embrace, his hands clutching me close to his big frame and my arms around his narrow waist. His body heat is irresistible, and I edge closer. His arm tightens and my fingers slide over the soft wool of his cashmere jumper. It’s so soft, and as I flex my fingers, the wool rucks up, allowing me to feel the hot silk of his skin.

“Are you alright?” he immediately says. “Did you twist anything? Artie?”

His sharp voice pulls me from my heat haze. Oh god. I’ve been fondling the skin over his ribs. I blush painfully.

“Yes, I’m fine,” I finally say, pleased that my voice is steady, if a bit hoarse.

He lets me go, and I step back reluctantly. He’s breathing hard. “Are you hurt?” I ask. His eyes are very dark. “Did you hit your hand? Jed?”

He startles. “It’s fine.”

“Let me see,” I order.

He reluctantly extends his hand, and I grimace when I see the cut on it. It’s deep and seeping blood, and the knuckle is already swelling. “How did you do this?” I ask, sliding my finger gently over the back of his hand in comfort. He shivers and I quickly pull back.

“I banged it on the fireplace when you slipped and caught it on something. Maybe a nail.”

“Have you had a tetanus?” I ask, immediately worried.

He rolls his eyes. “Yes. Because of the Fredericks’ wedding in that barn.”

I can’t help my snort of amusement and tap his hand gently. “Well, at least you won’t get lockjaw.”

“What a relief. That sounds like something that might benefit Rafferty, though.”

I chuckle. “You like him, really.”

His revolted expression makes me smile wider. I can’t believe he’s made me smile even though we’re standing in the ruins of my home.

“Well,” I say, “we need to get that cleaned up.”

“Oh no. It’s fine?—”

“Jed,” I interrupt the predictable statement. “You’re getting that cleaned up.”

He nods obediently, which is a very novel concept. Before we leave, he grabs the lamp. I give him a doubtful look.

“It’s a miracle they didn’t smash or sell it,” he says. “Do you want to push your luck any further and leave it here?”

“Good point.”

Once outside on the steps, we gulp in the fresh air. It’s so sweet after the stench of inside.

I walk to the car with him at my heels. After we get in, I grab the first aid kit from the glovebox. I cover my hands in sanitiser and sort through the box, laying out what I need on my knees. “Hand, please,” I say.

He rolls his eyes but proffers the injured hand. In the daylight it looks even worse, and the edges of the cut are already puffy. “Maybe you need to go to the hospital,” I say worriedly. “You might need stitches in this.”

“I don’t.” I look up at him and his mouth quirks. “Trust me, I don’t.”

I bite my lip, considering whether I should believe him. His gaze drops to my lips and my chest flutters with heat as his eyes darken.

“Well,” I say. “I’m no Florence Nightingale, but I’ll do my best if you trust me.”

“I do.” His tone is surprisingly heavy, and when I gaze at him his eyes are a clear, serious green. “I do trust you, Artie.” There’s a short silence and then his mouth quirks. “That was probably a little too intense.”

“Not at all,” I say lightly. “My first aid brings all the boys to my yard.”

He snorts, and I open a packet of sterilised wipes and start to clean the wound. His wedding ring shines golden in the light, and I can’t help thinking, I put that on his finger . I take a breath and carry on with my task.

I’m nearly done when he says, “What did you think?”

I look up, surprised to find his face so close to mine. I drop my eyes to where his lips are ensconced by his beard. The whiskers had felt soft on my face when he’d kissed me at the registry office. He raises one eyebrow, and I realise I’ve been quiet for too long.

“Of the house?” I ask.

He nods.

“It looks pretty bad in there.”

“It’s going to take a lot of money to fix.”

“I have some savings.”

“I can help.”

“You already are.” My gratitude is strong, but I need to close this avenue of conversation.

Ever perceptive, he changes the topic. “Well, luckily Mr Davies said we have two weeks before we have to move in. It’s not much time, but… Are you sure you don’t want to contest the stipulations?”

“Yes,” I say. “And I told you why I wouldn’t.” I look at my watch. “I’ve arranged to meet two builders here to get a couple of quotes.”

“I told you I could help with that.”

“I have to do this myself,” I say softly. “You’re not going to be around forever, are you? You’ll only have to be here for a few months.”

“But we’ll still be working with each other afterwards?” His voice is strangely anxious, and my heart skips a beat.

“Of course ,” I say with emphasis.

His shoulders ease under his jumper. No one has ever valued my company the way he does. Most of that’s due to how good I am at my job, but it’s still nice.

“We’ll just go back to normal once this situation is done,” I say, smoothing a plaster over the cut. I gently stroke the swollen knuckles. “These are going to hurt later.” He goes very still, and I look up at his face. “Are you okay?” His gaze drops to my lips again, and I lean close without thought. “Jed?” I say breathily, my eyes drifting closed.

There’s a bang on my window and my eyes fly open.

“Bloody hell,” I breathe, looking out, aware of Jed moving back in his seat. He’d probably like to put the distance of the channel between us.

The middle-aged man standing outside the car bends and waves through the window. “Hello,” he calls. “Are you waiting for me? Sorry I’m a bit late.”

“This must be the first builder I have an appointment with.” I put my hand on the door handle and Jed places a hand on my shoulder. I look back at him, startled.

He’s staring at the man, his brow furrowed. “I might need to tell you something.”

I hesitate. “He’s waiting and I’m being rude,” I whisper. “I don’t want to have him march off in a huff.”

Jed’s lips quirk. “Okay,” he says.

“Tell me in a bit,” I say quickly and climb out of the car.

“Mr Sampson?” I ask and hold out my hand. He’s a small red-haired man with a purple nose.

He takes my hand. “Yes. Nice to meet you,” he says. I let go and he staggers slightly and then corrects his balance.

“I’m sorry. Did you slip?” I ask in concern.

He goes into a fit of raucous laughter. “Did I slip ?” he roars. He slaps me on the back, nearly sending me into the hedge.

It’s rare that I reduce someone to tears of laughter. He walks towards the house, staggering a little as he looks up.

“Well now, this is a nice bungalow,” he confides.

I blink. “Hmm. Well, it’s not exactly a bungalow,” I say apologetically.

He squints at the house. “Really? Are you sure?”

“Yes, pretty positive.” I hesitate. “The extra two floors give the game away.”

That sends him into another burst of laughter, and I give him a bemused look. Recognition hits as another gust of laughter reaches me, and the alcohol fumes make me cough.

“Oh, my goodness,” I say, coughing again.

“Hope that’s not the bug going round,” he says cheerfully, slapping me on the back again. I cover my mouth in fear that he’ll bring up one of my lungs.

“Oh really? Is it a bad one?”

“Not really.” He pauses, staring into space. “But maybe a few people have died from it.” He rummages in his pocket and produces a small notebook. He licks the pencil that he produces from behind his ear and looks up at me. “Well, I hope you’re satisfied with the standard of my work, Mr Anstons?” He falters slightly over the S’s but then rallies. “The remaining sum is now due.”

“Erm.”

I hear footsteps and relax as Jed comes up next to me. His eyes are twinkling. “How’s the quote going?”

“We’re proceeding at lightning speed because he just gave me the final bill. Oh, and he thinks I’m called Mr Anstons.”

“Artie Anstons sounds like a circus performer.” Jed’s lip twitches and he turns to the builder. “Bob Sampson. Can I just say how nice it is to meet you again,” he says silkily.

The builder stares at him myopically and then blanches. “Shit. Sergeant Walker ,” he breathes.

Jed salutes him lazily. “The very same.”

I stare between them, and Jed shoots me a wink that is extraordinarily attractive. “Bob and I know each other.”

“I can see that. Personally or professionally?”

“Mainly the latter,” he says gravely.

“This is your house, Sergeant Walker?”

“It is indeed,” Jed drawls.

I watch open-mouthed as the builder turns and walks smartly down the road towards the bus stop. “Thanks for your custom, Mr Anstons,” he calls to me. “Hope you’re satisfied.”

“I’m more confused than satisfied,” I mutter.

Jed slings his arm over my shoulder, and we watch the builder disappear down the road. “Don’t look so sad, Artie Anstons,” he murmurs.

I snort. “So, what’s the story there?”

“I arrested him a few times,” he says conversationally.

“You did ?” I brighten instantly. I love true-crime programmes and here is the real thing. “What was he in for?”

He bites his lip. “Not for any of the exotic things you are no doubt imagining.” He chuckles. “Drunk and disorderly on Tottenham Court Road usually. Sometimes he liked to switch the game up a bit.”

“To armed robbery?” I ask hopefully.

“No, drunk and disorderly on the Kings Road.”

I shake my head as he laughs softly. It’s as attractive as the rest of him and I savour the feel of his warm arm over my shoulders. I feel snug and protected and want it to last forever.

He stirs. “He must have a surprisingly good memory to remember me. It’s been years.”

I look at his strong, handsome face. Or you’re just very memorable , I think.

We turn as a van pulls up and parks by the house. A tall man with silver hair climbs out and retrieves a clipboard and a diary. This must be my second appointment. He walks towards us and I move away from Jed to greet him.

“Mr Campbell?” the man says, his voice deep and pleasant.

“That’s me,” I say, offering him my hand. “You must be Mr Barnes?”

“Yes, but please call me Eric.” He looks behind me and his eyes widen. “ Jed ,” he exclaims, his face breaking into a wide smile. “How are you?”

“How is it that everyone knows you?” I enquire lightly.

“I’m fine, Eric.” Jed takes the hand the builder offers him, smiling. They’re both the same height, both good-looking, and obviously on good terms. I wonder with a sinking feeling if they ever dated.

Jed smiles at me. “Eric did the work on my flat a while ago.”

“Oh,” I say, relief sweeping through me. “Oh, that’s good. At least he didn’t arrest you too,” I add quickly to the builder.

“Not yet, but the day is still young,” Eric murmurs.

I smile at him. “So, he’ll give you a good reference, then?”

“I would hope so. Either him or Mick.”

There’s a sudden horrid silence. My throat clicks when I swallow.

Jed gives a fixed smile, all his animation draining away. “Mick died a few years ago, Eric,” he says quietly.

The builder blanches. “Oh shit . I’m so sorry.”

“It’s absolutely fine,” Jed says, his smile kind. “Shall we go and look at the house?” He quickly walks inside.

Before following him, the builder groans quietly at me. “Me and my big mouth. Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” I say. “You weren’t to know. It’s been a few years since it happened.”

He shakes his head. “Man, that’s so sad. I never saw a nicer couple.”

“So, I’ve heard.”

“They were absolutely devoted to each other. Made me smile whenever I saw them together. Jed must have been devastated.”

“He still is,” I say, wishing desperately to change the subject.

“Mick would definitely be a hard act to follow.”

His words hurt, but I stand there accepting them quietly. Footsteps sound, and I look up to find Jed returning. To my surprise, he slides his arm over my shoulder, drawing me to him. “So, you’ve met my husband?” he asks Eric.

Eric looks at me in shock and then grimaces. “I might have to have my foot surgically removed from my mouth today. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” I say quickly.

Jed frowns and looks between us.

“No harm done,” I say. “Shall we look inside?”

When I reach the door, I look back. Jed is watching me intently. I offer him a smile and gesture. “Shall we get on with it?”

The sun goes behind a cloud and the wind blows a cool gust down my back, making me shiver. It seems like the weather is echoing my mood.

Jed is quiet for the rest of the day, but you wouldn’t notice unless you knew him well.

During our evening meal in the hotel restaurant, he makes conversation, smiles at my stilted small talk, and generally behaves like the gentleman he is. But I catalogue his sad eyes and the way his glass is being emptied far more than usual.

When we stand up to go back to the suite, he staggers and I edge next to him unobtrusively, helping him onto the lift and shoring up his balance in the car. When I look up, he’s watching me in the mirrored wall, his eyes mysterious and curiously intent.

“Little Artie,” he says, a slur in his voice. “My husband.” His grip slips on the rail, and he lists to one side.

I hurry to put my arm around him. He turns and we’re suddenly so close you couldn’t get a piece of paper between our bodies. “You’re always there to help me.”

I laugh nervously. “I do t-try.”

“And you succeed,” he says far too loudly. “ Every time. Why is that?” he says fractiously. “Why are you able to be what I need?”

“Luck,” I say softly.

He takes my chin gently in his fingers. “You are so beautiful.” I gasp as he slides his thumb over my lips. “And these,” he mutters, his voice dark. “The curve of these lips drives me mad when I’m alone in the dark.”

My heart thunders as he caresses my lip, his thumb dipping in to trace the wet interior. Without thinking, I draw it into my mouth, licking and sucking.

“Yes,” he says hoarsely, staring at me with glittering eyes. “I like that.”

We both stagger as the lift comes to a stop. He presses me to the wall with all his weight, and I groan as he lowers his head and traces my throat with his lips. My cock throbs, and I push against him, pulling a deep, thrilling moan from his chest.

It’s my turn to groan as he pulls away. “Bedroom,” he says throatily.

I follow him out of the lift like he’s the Pied Piper of my underpants. He’s quicker than me, or maybe my steps are slower, because as we enter the room, I’m definitely lagging as my conscience argues with my cock. Jed is drunk and upset by the builder’s innocent remarks. They’d brought up old memories, and he’s drunk to forget them again. It would be very wrong to take advantage of that.

After shutting the door behind us, I groan as I see his shirt on the floor. Splashing sounds come from the bathroom. Is he showering? I’m not sure I’m strong enough to resist a naked and flirtatious Jed. I pause at the bathroom door, my eyes widening at what I see.

He’s half naked, muscles and hair-roughened torso on display. But what arrests my attention is how he’s washing his hands at the sink, his jaw rigid and his motions frantic as his fingers scrape at his skin.

“What are you doing?” I ask, stepping closer.

His gaze meets mine in the mirror and for a moment he doesn’t seem to recognize me. Then his taut features seem to collapse, and I can’t resist the urge to comfort him.

“What is it, Jed?” I say, placing a gentle hand on his forearm.

“It won’t come off,” he mutters.

“What won’t?” I look down at his hand and my stomach sinks. “Your wedding ring?”

He nods miserably. “I always take it off before I go to bed.”

“You do?” My heart thumps. “I keep mine on at all times,” I whisper.

“I don’t want it on me all the time. It weighs me down.”

I swallow hard. He’s drunk. This means nothing.

“Let me help,” I say soothingly. I take his hand, admiring his long fingers and neat nails and the veins along the back of his hand.

His size, his scent, his warmth—they’re all lovely. But he’s in pain, and I have to ignore what his nearness does to me. I grab the soap, lather it up, and rub his finger gently. “There you go.” I twist off the ring and offer it to him. “All good now, sweetheart.”

He looks down at it with red-rimmed eyes. “Put it somewhere, will you?” He quickly stumbles out of the room.

I focus on the gold band in my hand. I didn’t really need another reminder of how much Mick meant to him and how little I do, but it seems like the universe disagreed.