Chapter 4 #2
I think hard for something to say that doesn’t involve my tongue hanging out and grunting, seeing as I seem to revert to being a caveman around him at the moment.
An image comes into my head of him doing yoga the other day.
He’d been lying on a mat in the lounge with Cora in her bouncy seat.
She’d been utterly fascinated, and I can’t blame her.
I’ve never seen anyone move so gracefully and have such a command over his body as he contorted himself into position after position.
His lean body had been corded with muscle and dusted in sweat and had formed the basis for a massive wank session that I’m ashamed to admit I had in the shower afterward.
At the time he’d blushed when he saw me watching and explained that he’d taken it up because the breathing involved helps him with his speech.
I look into his warm brown eyes that are watching me curiously as his hand pats and soothes Cora’s back, and a curious longing comes over me.
I want to be involved in his life. Not in an overprotective big brother way but in the way a man has if he’s interested in him.
I don’t just want to tease and joke with him anymore.
I want to know him in a way that no one else does.
I want to know what thoughts flash through his head and for him to speak them to me when he won’t do that for anyone else.
I want to be in his life in a way I’ve never wanted to do with any other man, even his brother.
I find myself opening my mouth and words fly out unconsidered or censored. “Will you teach me how to do yoga?”
There’s a stunned silence for a second and myriad thoughts flash across his face before he settles on amusement. I swallow hard.
“Why?” he asks, as well he should.
“Erm.” I think hard. I can’t say what I really want.
He wouldn’t believe me and there’s no point anyway because it can never go anywhere.
I’m just infatuated with him at the moment because it’s novel.
I’ve never been attracted to anyone I’ve really known other than Gideon.
The fact that this is his brother and it’s like the plot of a Mills and Boon book means I know it won’t come to anything.
But still, there’s this yearning inside me that I’ve never felt before to know this fey-looking man in front of me.
I realise that he’s still waiting for me to speak and flush. “Erm. I’m just a bit stressed at the moment. I ache all over and I’ve heard that yoga can help with that.”
His face immediately clouds with concern. “Of course I will,” he says hurriedly. “And you know if you’re stressed you can always talk to me. I’m not sure how much help I’ll be, but if I can help you in any way you know I will in a heartbeat.”
I feel so fucking bad at this moment and equally warm inside at the feeling that he cares enough for me to react like that. But then I remind myself that he’s the reason I’m stressed anyway, so we can do yoga together, goddammit.
I have a strange feeling that I’m setting myself on the road to being truly fucked over this man, and pretty soon I won’t be able to turn back.
Milo
I stir the minestrone soup in the big pot on the stove and switch the phone over to my other ear. “So, how’s your mum?”
Oz sighs. “She’s fine. She’s in really good spirits and the operation went well.”
“So why the heavy breathing?”
“Because she’s insisting on staying in London. She says all her friends and her sister are here and the hospital is in easy reach.”
“She has got a point.”
He sighs again. “I know that. She always does have a point.” I smile at the thought of his small, fiery mother. “It’s just I want to look after her at home.”
“But that’s what you want,” I say softly. “It’s not really about that, is it?”
“I know.” There’s a silence and I wonder whether I’ve offended him. “You’re right,” he says. “You’re always right.”
“Well, not always.”
“Mostly.”
“I’ll settle for that.” He laughs. “So, when will you be back?” I ask hesitantly.
“As soon as she’s out of the hospital and settled. Silas is coordinating with them so we can make sure she’s all set at home. We can’t come back before that, so I’d say we’re a few days off yet. If I don’t want to leave her when she’s out, we’ll come and take Cora back with us.”
“Well, that’s fine.”
“It isn’t fine. Cora will have forgotten us.”
I laugh. “Don’t be silly. Of course she won’t.”
“Is she okay? What’s she doing? Tell me everything.”
“She’s fine. She’s just gone down for a nap.” I pause. “She’s a baby. She doesn’t do much of anything, so how much more can I tell you?”
“Everything,” he says fervently, and I laugh.
Conversation detours into work and for the next ten minutes while I add pasta to the soup and move around the kitchen, we discuss the house and the arrangements for the film crew.
Finally satisfied that we’re on track and not in imminent danger of an imploding business, he moves on. “So, what are you doing tonight?”
I smile. “Not much. I’m making soup.”
“Oh my God. Your minestrone?”
“That’s the one.”
“I love that.” He pauses and when he speaks next his voice is arch. “So, you’re making Niall his dinner for when he gets back to the house you’re living in together?”
“I’m making myself some dinner,” I say patiently. “And sharing it with him. Yes. In the house he’s been kind enough to let me stay in because living in my own home currently would be like residing in the freezer section of Farmfoods.”
“Hmm.”
“Oh, and afterward I’m teaching him yoga. Bye.”
I set the phone down neatly on the counter and laugh when it immediately rings again. “What?”
“You’re teaching him yoga?”
“Yep.”
“Oh my God, why am I not there? This is pure torture.”
“I’m sure it won’t be very eventful.”
“Have you seen the man? He’s tall and big and most definitely not bendy at all.
It’ll be hilarious. Oh, make him do that chair pose.
And film it and send it to me. There’s nothing funny on the television at the moment.
Plus, if he falls over we could totally send it to You’ve Been Framed and get two hundred and fifty quid. ”
“I will not be filming anything.”
“We’ll share it with him,” he says earnestly and pauses. “Well, we’ll give him a tenner for his troubles. That’s more than enough.”
I hear the front door slam and the familiar warmth and fizzle of anticipation curls in my stomach at the thought of seeing Niall. I quash it. “I’m going now,” I say quickly. “He’s here.”
“Okay, but remember Downward Dog is not a sex pose or an invitation to fuck in a car park in front of complete strangers.”
“You think you’re funny, but you are truly not,” I say firmly and put the phone down.
I look up when Niall saunters into the kitchen.
He’s filthy dirty with a streak of dirt running down his face that makes him look a bit like an extra from Braveheart .
He also has scratches running down his arms, presumably from where he’s been wrestling branches.
I smile because Niall is genetically incapable of standing back and issuing orders, which would be what most people would do in his position.
Instead, he has to get involved in whatever his men are doing and consequently is usually scratched or bruised or both.
He’d broken his arm once trying to help the roofer and that period of inactivity had been hellish, not just for him but for everyone else he came in contact with.
However, one of the scratches looks really deep and before I know it, I’ve crossed the kitchen and taken his arm.
He looks startled and for a second I think he’s going to step back, but he stays still and lets me hold it up to the light.
“That’s a really deep one, Niall,” I murmur, running my finger gently down the side of it.
It’s oozing blood and looks nasty. He jerks hard like I’ve electrically shocked him, and I look up in surprise.
“It hurt,” he says hoarsely.
“Oh, sorry,” I say quickly. His arm is so strong and the skin so warm that I let it drop reluctantly and look up at him. “Why don’t you go for a shower and clean up? Then I’ll patch that up and we can do some yoga and you can eat afterward.” I pause. “That’s if you still want to do yoga?”
“I do,” he says quickly. He sniffs, and a longing expression comes over his face. “Oh my God, is that your minestrone soup?” I nod and he smiles happily. “I love that.” He looks around at the warmly lit kitchen with music playing in the background. “This is nice,” he says slowly.
“What is?”
“Coming home and finding you …” He seems to stumble over his words for a second. “I mean it’s nice finding food cooking and the house lit up.” He looks almost bashful. “Usually the house is dark. I don’t mind that, of course,” he says quickly. “I like living on my own.”
I step back and smile. “Of course you do.” When he hesitates, I make shooing gestures. “Go and shower. We haven’t got unlimited time for yoga because Cora will be awake soon.”
He stares at me, something running over his face, and then he smiles awkwardly and is gone.
When I hear the shower start, I turn the heat low on the soup and move into the lounge.
I went up to the main house earlier to get my yoga mat and the spare.
Now, I lay them out on the carpet and dim the lights.
I consider putting music on and lighting candles, which is what I do sometimes if I’m feeling stressed, but I dismiss it immediately.
Niall will think I’m trying to seduce him and run a mile.
A brief image of a Niall-sized hole in the door and dust at his heels comes into my head, and I smile a little sadly before I make myself cheer up.