Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
ULRICH
I wipe my clammy hands on my jeans as I approach the door, and try to breathe normally around the constriction in my chest. This wasn’t a clever idea, perhaps one of my worst ever. But all day, thoughts have been going round in my head. I’ve seen so many people happy from the flowers I’ve delivered for their loved ones and admirers, all of them in stark contrast to the stormy eyes of sadness from my first visit of the day. I’m pretty sure he’s alone for Valentine’s Day, as am I, and right across the village green is a welcoming place for people like us. So somewhere along the way, my head connected dots that weren’t there and thought it would be a good idea to invite him.
The single flower I clutch tightly was something I grabbed on a whim before I left the shop. Maybe I felt bad that he didn’t get any flowers earlier.
Well, whatever, it’s too late now as I’m here, steeling myself to knock on the door.
Just do it. What’s the worst that can happen? That he shuts the door in your face? Well he’s done that twice already today . . . which is why this is a bad idea. I nearly turn around and scurry back to my van. Come on, just do it .
Before I can talk myself out of it, I knock on the door.
This time when he opens the door his face is thunderously black, and I wonder if I’ve disturbed him in the middle of something. But then, he did open the door. He could have ignored it. His expression turns into puzzlement and I take that as my cue.
“I, erm. I wondered if . . . you’d like to get something to eat . . . with me.” Well, this is going well. I take a deep breath. “You see, there’s a thing on at the pub, and well... I thought that as you didn’t, and I didn’t... you know, have anyone, well... we could go together.”
Shit, that sounded so lame, and I accused him of being as sad and lonely as me.
“Sorry, you might have someone, I just thought . . .”
He glances across the village green, his face darkening again before he bows his head and takes a deep breath. Maybe he’s going to shut the door on me again. I don’t think I can actually take that a third time.
“You know what, this is a terrible idea. I’m sorry I bothered you... again.” I turn to go, still holding the flower which is now wilting slightly from being gripped so tightly. Its singleness is a mockery of my own solitary state.
“Hold on, wait,” he calls out, and I slowly return to facing him. He still looks like he might close the door any minute, so I don’t move, and just wait for him. He looks at me for a few seconds before he sighs.
“Okay, I’ll come with you.”
The hint of resignation in his voice snaps something inside me. It’s been a long day and I’ve been on the go since six a.m.
“Look, I don’t need your pity. I just thought it might be something nice to do. I’ve spent the day delivering flowers, making people happy, and I just wanted to keep the good feeling a little longer. The party at the pub seemed like a good idea, but maybe I’ll just go alone. They said that was alright.” I take a step backwards and a range of emotions flit across his face.
“It’s not a terrible idea,” he says. “I actually think it’s kind of cute.”
“Do you?” Urgh. I inwardly wince at the hopeful tone my voice took. It’s too needy. Am I that desperate? I might well be.
“I do, and I’m sorry. I’m being an arsehole. I would like to go with you. Let me just get changed first.”
He looks fine the way he is of course. He has on some walking trousers and a chunky knit jumper.
“Please come in.” He opens the door wider and steps back. I enter the hallway and realise I still have my hand clamped round the lone flower.
Given his reluctant acceptance of my offer, the flower seems a pathetic symbol of the hope I approached his door with. If I had an ounce of sense I would leave now, but I don’t want to. There’s something about this stranger that I’m drawn to. I can’t explain it but it’s there. He glances down at the flower, a pretty orange gerbera, as if noticing it for the first time.
I’m thankful it’s not a rose, that would’ve been a particularly bad blunder. Roses are generally a symbol of love. A gerbera is more general—friendship.
“This is for you, because you didn’t get any earlier.” I thrust it towards his chest. His mouth twitches slightly and his eyes soften a shade lighter. My heart does a little skip that my small gesture chased a little of his shadows away.
“Thank you. It’s lovely.” His hand brushes mine as he takes the bloom from me and I’m sure I feel something zap between us. I give an involuntary shiver. If he felt it too he doesn’t react, but he does give me a little smile.
“I’ll be right back.” He turns and heads towards the stairs. I feel awkward being left in the hallway, so I take the first open door which seems to be a small lounge. There are low beams painted black and the walls are rustic stone. The windows give out onto the front of the cottage, and I stand and look out watching people, couples, and individuals heading towards the pub.
“Shall we go?” I turn at the voice behind me, and what I see takes my breath away. He’s changed into a pair of dark jeans, and a green jumper that looks so soft I want to reach out and touch it. Damn, he’s handsome. Way out of my league, really. Though I knew that when I saw his naked torso and sweatpant ensemble this morning, a vision that’s been with me most of the day. But dressed like this he looks sophisticatedly casual. I’ve changed out of the old jeans and checked shirt that I wear as my work uniform, but beside him I feel shabby.
“You look good!” I blurt out, unable to actually stop my mouth. Although I manage to modify the “gorgeous” that was poised on my lips and downgrade it to a “good.” I bite my lip. What the hell was I thinking?
“Thank you.” He huffs a little laugh. Wait, was that amusement? That’s a first, and like nectar to a bee I want more of it. So much more. I make it my mission to try and get him to actually laugh in the few hours he’s agreed to spend with me.
“Sooo, can I learn the name of the guy I’m taking to dinner?” I give him one of my brightest smiles. He looks surprised, probably realising like I just have that we don’t know each other’s names.
He crosses his arms and leans against the door frame to the lounge, more relaxed than defensive. He tilts his head slightly, causing a lock of dark hair to fall over his eyes, and increasing his good looks, if that were possible.
“Only if I can know the name of the guy who’s taking me to dinner.” There’s that upturn of his lips again. My stomach swoops. Jeez, what am I going to be like when he really smiles? I think I might just melt into a puddle.
“It’s Ulrich, but everyone calls me Uli,” I say.
“And do you like it? People calling you Uli?” The way my name rolls off his tongue, his voice as deep as the valley we’re in, sets a fire alight inside me. I have a fleeting image of him calling me that, his deep voice desperate and his hands fisting in my hair as I devour his cock. I shake the image off before my semi turns into something more noticeable and definitely embarrassing. I’ve managed to get him to agree to one dinner, and that was practically under duress. It’s clear he’s not interested in me, so the best I can hope for is to spend this evening in his company, seeing if I can amuse him.
“Yes, I love it. More than Ulrich if I’m honest. I use it for my business name, ‘Uli’s Garden.’” Okay, now I’ve gone into babble mode, which again is not a good start. “Your turn.”
“Nolan,” he says flatly, like he doesn’t care for it. I like it, it suits him. Tall, dark, and handsome Nolan.
“Well, Nolan, shall we go?”
I follow him out and he shuts the door behind us. He doesn’t speak as we walk the short distance across to the pub, and I start to worry that I’m going to be the one to keep the conversation going all night. This might really have been a bad idea. We reach the entrance and I turn to him, about to at least say something.
Pain and something like fear flicker across his face as he stops dead in his tracks. He looks like he’s about to flee back to the cottage. Yup, nice one Uli. This was the worst idea of the century .