Chapter Eleven
Lane
“Bollocks, are you serious?” I asked, trying not to let my annoyance turn into full-on anger. I hadn’t been expecting a simple Monday afternoon phone call to throw a spanner in the renovation plans, and I was thankful the guy on the end of the phone couldn’t see my face.
I stood in Honeysuckle Cottage’s back garden, looking out over the sea, having come outside to escape the noise. Now I wished I hadn’t been able to hear him.
“Yeah, sorry,” the guy on the end of the phone said. “There was a mix-up on our end between your order and another one. We’re just waiting on another delivery of materials before they can start on yours, but it’s been delayed. Should be here in a couple of weeks. We’ll have it up to you then.”
“Can you give me a more definitive date?”
“Sorry, best I can do is a couple of weeks. It’ll depend on when the material arrives.
Should be there by the start of July,” the man said, sounding so fucking nonchalant about the whole thing it was making my blood pressure spike.
We’d started ripping out the cottage’s kitchen today on the understanding that the new cabinets would be here in the next couple of days, and when I’d spoken to the suppliers last Friday, they’d promised me they were on the way.
Apparently not.
Now I had to go in and put a halt to everything and figure out a plan. I hated when things were out of my control in this way. Delays were part and parcel of the job, but this was one I hadn’t anticipated, and it made me feel really fucking unprofessional.
I took a deep breath, watching the sun dance across the dark water of the bay, resisting the temptation to lose my shit on the man. That wouldn’t solve anything, and the bastard would probably make sure the delay was extended out of spite.
“Fine. Please keep me updated,” I said before ending the conversation.
I’d want to go back to them later and have a word about not promising things were about to be delivered when they hadn’t even been built.
Someone on their end had fucked up massively and dropped me in it, and I was going to tell them, in the politest words I could find, how little I appreciated their fuckery.
I slid my phone back into my pocket and looked up at the clear sky, the endless stretch of blue helping to clear my head. Then I strode back into the kitchen to put everything on hold.
“That’s bollocks,” said Gary, wiping sweat off his brow as he finished chucking some tiles into a bucket. He was one of the oldest members of the team, and I’d known him since Dad had first taken me into the office as a toddler. “Did you say start of July?”
“Yeah, and that’s for them to get the materials, not to make the fucking things.
” I looked around at the mess. Gary and Oz had done a good job of stripping out most of the kitchen in the short time they’d been working.
The sink, oven, and hob had been the first things to go, and now they’d moved on to the old counter and the godawful speckled tiles.
At my instruction, Oliver had set up a temporary kitchen with the fridge-freezer, a kettle, toaster, and a newly acquired microwave in what had been the old breakfast room, along with his ridiculous camping stove.
I’d told him the kitchen could take several weeks to redo, and he’d told me he’d happily live on toast, Pot Noodles, and microwave meals.
But now I had no idea when he’d get his kitchen back.
I felt like shit because I’d given Oliver a timeline, and now we were going to be way off. I hated when projects went awry.
This one wasn’t even that complicated, and it had still managed to go tits up within a week.
“Fucking hell. That’s late, even for them,” Gary continued. “You should ask for a discount.”
“I’m going to. They told me last week it would be here Wednesday or Thursday, but it turns out that was someone else’s order, so we’re fucked.”
“That’s just not on.” Gary shook his head and sighed. “You’ll have to look at your plans, then. Figure out what you want to do instead.”
“Yeah, my plan to just gut the downstairs and redo it all at once isn’t going to work.
But we can’t leave it looking like this,” I said, gesturing at the mess.
The rest of the kitchen was going to have to come out, and we could get the room replastered and prepped for the new one to arrive, then move on to something else.
“It’ll be all right. We’ve dealt with worse.” Gary clapped me on the shoulder and smiled. Nothing seemed to faze him because he’d seen it all. “At least we can get the upstairs done, unless the bloody bathroom suite hasn’t turned up either.”
“The bathroom should be fine. I know that’s sorted. So’s the stuff for the en suite.” I looked around the kitchen, my mind flicking between options. “You and Oz have a break, then we’ll finish stripping this out while I figure out what we’re doing next.”
“Sounds like a good plan,” Gary said. “I’ll be out by the van.” He strolled out, and I heard him chatting to Oz in the corridor. Oz was a couple of years younger than me, and Gary had almost adopted him in the same way he did with a lot of the younger guys.
Gary was the one you could talk to when you were stressed or frustrated, but he was also the one who’d call you out if you were being a dickhead.
He’d taken me under his wing when I’d started working for Dad as a teenager, and his opinion was one of the ones I valued most. Once I’d figured out my rejigged plan, Gary was the one I’d run it past to make sure I wasn’t missing something.
“Everything okay?” I turned to see Oliver sticking his head around the door, casting his eyes over the half-stripped kitchen. “I heard Gary say something to Oz about a delay?”
“Yeah,” I said as I pursed my lips. “When I spoke to the kitchen company last week, they said the new kitchen had been dispatched and would be here by Thursday at the latest, but apparently that was a fucking lie. They got us mixed up with another order, so they haven’t even started yours yet. I’m so sorry.”
“Shit. How long will it be?”
“Honestly, it depends. It could be a couple of weeks, which would be the start of July, but it could be a lot longer than that. Like the end of July or even into August if there are serious problems getting the material.” I never lied to my clients about delays, and I wasn’t going to start now.
Oliver didn’t need me to bullshit him. He needed to know exactly what we were looking at.
I watched his expression carefully, looking for signs of anger or frustration.
But he just rubbed his face, frowned, then chuckled.
“I guess I better get used to using that camping stove, then,” he said wryly. “Maybe get myself a barbecue. I’ve always wanted to learn to cook outdoors. There’s a guy on TikTok who makes it look so easy.”
“That’s one option,” I said. “Or you can stay with me.”
Oliver stared at me. Fucking shit, what had I done? If my soul could have popped out of my body, it would have, and it would be staring at me too. Maybe it would’ve even slapped some sense into me. But apparently, my fucking mouth didn’t get the message because I kept talking.
“My house isn’t huge, but there’s room if you wanted to crash. And Sparrow would love to see you. But I totally get if you don’t want to. This is your home, even if it is going to be a mess for the next month.”
I’d bought my little house as a project two years ago with some help from my parents.
Being a builder came in useful when you bought somewhere that needed stripping down to the bones and renovating from the ground up.
Since I’d had to do the work around my job, the house still wasn’t quite finished, but it was close enough to be comfortable.
The only downside was that while it technically had two bedrooms, I didn’t have a spare bed.
I’d never anticipated having anyone to stay, so I’d turned the second room into a cosy music room for my guitars and ever-growing collection of records.
I’d made a mental note to get a sofa bed to go in there, but it had never made it off the bottom of my to-do list.
I could probably get a spare bed in a couple of days if I needed to. Or we could just share mine. It wasn’t like we hadn’t done it before. And while a lot had changed since then, it didn’t feel like the wildest idea in the world.
Oliver was still staring at me like he was trying to decide whether I was joking.
“It doesn’t have to be for the whole summer,” I added. “Just for a couple of weeks until we get this sorted.” I gestured at the mess of the kitchen. “I fucked up. The least I can do is give you somewhere to stay with an actual kitchen.”
Oliver’s lips twitched. “Do you offer everyone who’s projects get delayed a place to stay?”
“No. This is an exclusive offer.”
“Interesting. Does it come with any benefits?” Oliver asked, walking slowly across the room and leaning on what was left of the counter, looking at me with a heated expression. That wasn’t what I’d expected, but I wasn’t going to say no.
Ever since our Saturday kitchen fuck, Oliver had taken up permanent residence in my mind.
Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his white knuckles clutching the counter, heard his voice as he begged for me to spank him, and heard the sweet sounds that had filled my ears as I’d given him what he wanted.
The taste of his skin lingered on my tongue, and I kept absent-mindedly licking my lips, searching for more of him.
“What benefits were you thinking?” I stepped closer to him and lowered my voice.
“I can’t offer breakfast in bed, but I can offer to eat your ass until you beg for more.
I can strip away the troubles of your day and make you forget your own name.
And I can fill your nights with dreams so sweet you’ll never want to wake up. ”
Oliver licked his lips, his eyes never leaving mine. “That would be fine, I guess.”
“You guess?” I grinned. “If you don’t want any of that, I have an elderly collie you can cuddle, even though she snores like a foghorn.
You’d have to sleep on the sofa with her, though, instead of in my king-size bed.
That’s actually something you should know before you decide.
I don’t have a spare bed, just mine. Or there’s the sofa, and maybe a random air mattress. ”
“I’ll take my risks with your bed,” Oliver said with a teasing smile. “It’s not like we haven’t shared before, and you can’t be any worse now than you were then.”
“What? Sleeping with you was dangerous for my health. You kick!”
“And you sleep in the middle,” Oliver said.
“But don’t worry, if I kick you, I’m sure you can think of ways to punish me for it.
” His expression was devious, and it made me want to put down my tools and drag him straight back to my bedroom.
“I’ll go and throw some stuff in my suitcase.
Just text me your address, and I’ll see you there later. ”
He sauntered out of the room, and I watched him go, my eyes fixed on his ass. I couldn’t even be mad at myself for what I’d done. I was too intrigued by the idea of having Oliver in my bed again.