Chapter 6
six
JONAH
Come Over - Noah Kahan
“What are you doing here?” Kit asked, her fingers tightening slightly on the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her body straightened, an unreadable flicker in her gaze as she used her height to block the doorway.
Under the blanket, the turtleneck of a cream knit jumper peeked out. Her long blonde hair was slightly mussed, a few strands falling loose around her face, giving her an effortless kind of beauty.
A slow smile curled onto my lips. “You called for help, right?”
I’d been staring at the same chapter for several hours when I decided to take a break and go for a shower.
But only a few minutes in the phone rang, and I got out and answered to the owner of the holiday cottage begging me to come over and help the “young lady” who’d spent the night in the freezing cold.
So, I rushed over as quickly as I could – though, arguably, maybe a little too quickly.
Her eyes darted to my mouth for the briefest second before snapping back up. “I was waiting for a plumber.” She flipped her hair over one shoulder, the movement smooth, practiced, the kind that turned heads. The confidence in her voice was unwavering.
“You thought you’d get a plumber to come out on Christmas Eve?
I promised Liz that I’d handle any small issues with the cottage.
She lives two villages away, and it’s not safe for her to drive in this weather,” I said, the cold beginning to seep into my body.
“Are you going to let me in, or will I continue to freeze out here?”
She bit her lip, clearly debating. Her gaze flicked down my frame as if weighing up whether I was actually capable of fixing anything.
Maybe there was more to this ex-situation she had mentioned.
I ignored the chill biting at my nose and lifted the basic tool bag I’d brought. “I’m here to help, but I can’t do much from the doorstep. Unless what you want is to stand here and glare at me all day?”
With an exasperated eye roll, she stepped aside. “I think the weather outside might actually be an improvement.”
“How long has it been like this?” I asked, my attention falling on the thermostat. It might not have been minus three like outside, but it was close. My breath fogged in the hallway, and the chill equally bit at my nose.
“Since I arrived.”
I’d visited this cottage a couple of times to help other tourists and seen them through a couple of issues with operating the heating. So, I started tinkering, fairly certain I could help. After the look of heavy doubt she’d just given me, I really wanted to be successful.
“You slept through this?” I looked towards her, noticing her fingers clutching at her blanket, the slight wobble in them.
“It…wasn’t so bad.”
“You could’ve knocked. I would’ve tried to help sooner.”
“I didn’t want to disturb you.”
I hated that. Nobody should spend the night like this. I noticed the faded dark circles under her eyes, her pale skin almost translucent.
After a few moments adjusting the controls, none of my usual fixes seemed to do the trick.
I sighed deeply, irked by the thought that I should’ve made sure the cottage was ready for visitors.
I opened the cupboard off the hallway, Kit moving out of the way to allow for the door.
Crouching down, I looked at the boiler controls, checking the gauges, running through the usual troubleshooting steps.
I doubled checked everything but received no response from the archaic boiler. Not to mention, no local plumber was going to answer a call this close to Christmas.
Sighing again, I resigned myself to being useless. “Well, I can’t tell what’s wrong with it,” I said, sitting back on my heels. “It’s an old model. It might need replacing all together.”
“Fantastic.” Kit exhaled, her grip on the blanket tightening. “I’m the one who should be sorry,” she muttered. “I barely slept. The cottage is freezing, and I think it would be better to grab an early bus home.”
I grimaced. “There isn’t another until after Boxing Day.”
She closed her eyes, her frustration clear across her features. “Well, fuck.”
“If you were looking for isolation, you’ve found it.”
“I’m beginning to understand that.”
“I heard all the local B I will die.”
“You could use the fireplace, but that won’t help you when it comes to the water,” I said, packing the rest of my tools up. “And honestly, sorry if this is too much of a judgement call, but you do not look like the kind of person who can light a fire.”
Her brows pressed together. “Why, because I’m blonde?”
I cracked a weak smile, remembering the outfit she was wearing last night. Completely impractical for this weather, like she was closer to walking up a runway than the small high street. “No, more the high-heeled boots and fur coat.”
“That’s fair.” She shrugged, as though resigned to the fate that her holiday was a catastrophe. “I should leave. I’ll charter a helicopter. Learn to ride a horse. Anything. Just get me back to London.”
I tried to imagine Kit doing any of those things and cringed at the thought. The back of a horse did not suit her.
“I have a simpler solution,” I offered, still trying to figure out exactly how to phrase this.
“What?”
I knew this was a stupid idea. A very dumb, stupid idea to propose to my very beautiful and completely unattainable temporary neighbour. I also couldn’t see another solution that didn’t risk life or limb.
“Stay with me.”
Almost as soon as the words left my mouth, my brain went into overdrive. Was the lodge even clean? When was the last time I vacuumed? Did I have enough food, or would we have to ration?
Her eyes narrowed. “With you?”
“At my place,” I said. “It has two bedrooms, plenty of firewood and food to see us through until the village shop opens again—”
“The village shop is closed?” she interrupted.
“Yeah, it closed…” I checked my watch. “Twenty minutes ago.”
She swore under her breath. “All I have is wine and cheese.”
I smiled at the woman before me. What was it about her that made me want to offer help? She was practically a stranger, we’d had a total of three interactions, and more than half of them included her walking away from me. And yet, it was like I couldn’t leave her alone.
“Come stay with me,” I repeated, using all the cards in my arsenal. “It’s warm, I have a well-stocked fridge, and I’ll let you pick what movie we watch.”
Kit stood still as she pondered the offer, her gaze searching the boiler as if expecting it to burst into sudden life.
“How do I know this isn’t sabotage?” she asked.
“Sabotage?”
Kit pointed an accusatory finger towards me. “Maybe this is how you do it. You lure women to this hell hole.”
“You came here of your own volition—”
“Buddy up to them on the car ride because there’s apparently ‘no other way here’,” she added, rambling.
“There isn’t—”
“You break in, vandalize their heating, and steal away their wood so they freeze to death.”
I sighed. I could pretty much say anything and she’d still believe I was some sort of psychopath. “That is a pretty solid plan…” I mumbled, almost to myself.
“And then lure them to your house for warmth and food,” she resolved. “And then…” Kit’s blue eyes held my gaze as she ran a finger along the neck of her sweater. “It’s straight out of a thriller.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “I am not a serial killer, I promise.”
“Said every serial killer ever.”
“Well, it’s my place or freezing,” I said. “I’ll let you make that decision yourself.”
“Sounds like your plan is working out perfectly, tennis boy!” she cried. “Is that your serial-killer name? Or is it Mr Wimbledon? If I Google that, what secrets will I uncover?”
I grabbed my tool bag, almost sure that she’d be following me out. Instead, I heard her mutter, “Damn. No signal again.”
“Enjoy the cold, London!” I said, heading towards the front door. “If you freeze solid, I’ll defrost you with a hairdryer on Boxing Day.”
I heard her grumbling behind me, the soft thump of her foot kicking the wall in annoyance before she yelled out, “Wait!”
I turned, the sight of her frown bringing another smile to my lips. “Yes?”
“I need help with my suitcase.”