Chapter Ten
P ulling the front door open, Lynsey stepped inside. The cottage was just as she remembered, plaster strewn across the floorboards, the bare floorboards of the upstairs visible. As she walked to the centre of the room, she sneezed from the disturbed dust.
She came to a stop in front of the fireplace, a large brick recess, slate tiles sitting on the floorboards in front with a thick oak mantelpiece hovering above. That hadn’t been ruined, at least. It was still there, probably still working. She could get it checked, get the chimney swept.
Sinking to the floor, she was oblivious to the pieces of plaster she was sitting on and instead crossed her legs, resting her hands on her knees as she drew in deep breaths just as she’d learned from the meditation sessions she’d watched on the TV. Breath after breath, she breathed until she felt more in control, until she could force those thoughts back into the recesses of her mind, until she could limit the tremors she felt in her limbs.
He couldn’t have known. She didn’t walk around with ‘accused thief’ written in permanent marker across her forehead. Her old employers wouldn’t have rung Elsie and told her. She hadn’t needed references to volunteer here. Nobody knew. Zac didn’t know. It must just have been by an unlucky chance that he’d brought up the very idea of stealing. It must have been.
But he had called her a thief and she couldn’t explain that. All she’d done was ask him for a quote. She hadn’t meant to deceive him. She hadn’t known the cottage needed more work than she’d ask him to quote her for. And why would that have mattered, anyway? Surely it’s every contractor’s dream - to discover they can get more money out of a job?
Reaching forward, she wiped at a mark on the bricks of the fireplace and looked at the dried soot on the pad of her finger before wiping it across the leg of her jeans.
‘That’ll stain, you know.’
Frowning, Lynsey looked towards the door. And yes, just as she’d guessed, the voice belonged to Zac Hunter, the same guy who had moments earlier accused her of trying to steal from him. Laying her palms on the floor, she pushed herself to standing and glared at him. How dare he follow her and invade her supposedly safe space? ‘Does it matter?’
Shrugging, Zac crossed his arms and nodded towards her. ‘Maybe not. Not if Elsie is happy with you serving food in a downright dirty apron, that is.’
Looking down, she sighed as she realised he was right. A line of soot made its way from the middle of her brilliant white apron to the hem. She must have absentmindedly wiped her hands on the apron rather than her jeans. If that wouldn’t come out in the wash, she’d owe Elsie an apron for sure. Meeting his gaze, she rolled her shoulders back, standing tall. ‘Why are you here?’
‘To give you a quote.’ He shrugged, as if the reason was obvious.
Glancing down, she pinched the bridge of her nose. Was she imagining it? He’d accused her of trying to swindle extra work out of him or something to that avail and now he’d followed her back here to give her a quote? ‘Don’t bother.’
‘Pardon?’
‘I said, don’t bother. I don’t want a quote from you.’ Pursing her lips, she glared at him.
‘You won’t get another builder here for months.’ He stood rooted to the spot.
‘So?’
‘So, you won’t get your work done. You’ll be living in...’ Holding his hand out, he indicated the surrounding room. ‘This.’
‘Maybe I don’t want anyone to do the work.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ Her breath quickened just as easily as the anger grew inside her. What gave him the right to come into her home uninvited and try to tell her what she did or didn’t need? ‘Maybe I’ll just do it myself.’
Widening his stance, he lifted his hand to his mouth as his lips tugged at the corners.
‘Don’t laugh at me. What? You think just because I’m a woman I can’t do this? You think I can’t plaster, or paint, or...’ The words came tumbling out of her, all the while watching him snigger behind his hand.
Holding his hand out, palm forward, he coughed as he regained his composure. ‘No, I don’t think you can’t do this because you’re a woman. I think you can’t do this because you originally asked me to quote you to knock a wall down. An easy enough task and certainly easier that making his place habitable again.’
‘Oh, right.’ Feeling a hot flush of embarrassment flush across her skin, she looked down at the floor.
‘But if you’re telling me you don’t need me anymore, then I’ll respect your wishes and leave.’ Shoving his hands in his jean pockets, he slowly turned.
Did she let him leave? She wouldn’t get another opportunity, and Ian had spoken highly of him. Well, he’d said he knew Zac’s dad, anyway. But that was always good, wasn’t it? To have someone to give a recommendation. If she let him leave, then this would be it - the cottage would lie in this state and she’d have no choice but to sell, take a hit on the selling fees and possibly have to take it to auction again. And if she did that, there were no guarantees it would even sell. Yes, it was in a gorgeous location but with the amount of work that needed doing to it, the market would naturally be a whole lot smaller than if it was even in a liveable condition. She ran towards the door, the fallen plaster crunching beneath her trainers. At the front door, she gripped hold of the doorframe and rose her voice. ‘Wait.’
Spinning on his heels, he looked at her and raised her eyebrows. ‘Wait?’
She rolled her eyes. He wasn’t going to make this easy for her, was he? ‘Just a quote. You can give me a quote.’
Nodding, Zac made his slow way back down the cracked front path and walked past her inside. ‘I can’t do mates’ rates, but I will agree to take on the job because Ian asked me.’
She frowned. She wanted nothing more than to send him packing, but she knew he was right, she wouldn’t get anyone else, and he knew she needed him too. ‘I wouldn’t expect mates’ rates. I’m not your mate.’
‘As long as we’ve got that fact established.’ He pulled out the clipboard he had tucked beneath his arm and drew a pen from behind his ear. ‘Give me half an hour or so and I’ll come back into the bakery and give you the quote.’
Pulling the key from her pocket, she looked down at it in her hand before glancing at him.
Shrugging, he shook his head. ‘I’m hardly going to run off with a whole cottage, am I? And there certainly isn’t anything in here to take.’
She nodded. He was right. Stepping forward, she dropped the key into his waiting hand. It would be fine. She was just getting a quote. She didn’t have to agree to have him do the work until she’d seen how much he was going to charge her. She was still in control of the situation.