Chapter 16 ROSE
ROSE
Angelos climbs out of the car, throwing a backpack over his shoulder, his friend Charlie right behind him. Usually he’d run into my arms, but I can see he’s trying to act cool in front of his friend. “Sup, bruh.”
“I’m your mother. Not bruh.” I ruffle his hair and kiss his head despite his protest as he shrugs away from me. “I have your favourite sweets in the cupboard.”
“Muuum, I’m almost a teenager.”
“Can you not eat sweets when you’re a teenager?”
Helena walks up the drive, nearly tripping in her heels as she peers over her sunglasses at Dan.
He strides over to us, tugging a white t-shirt over his deliciously inked torso that’s like a work of art sculpted by the great Italian Renaissance artists. “Did someone say sweets?”
“Who are you?” Angelos asks, staring up at him with a frown.
My heart beats in my neck, and my stomach flips as if I’m in the air about to nosedive into the Mediterranean sea. I’m trained in emergency situations. But I’m not prepared for this.
Helena steps in front of Angelos. “Hi, I’m Helena.” She holds out her hand.
Dan caresses it and brings it to his lips. “Pleasure.” His eyes flick to mine, twinkling with a smile. “I’m Grace’s gardener. Hasn’t she mentioned me before?”
Arsehole.
Helena narrows her eyes at me. “No, she hasn’t. I can see why she wouldn’t want to share you. You’re very good at what you do, aren’t you?”
Dan chuckles. “The best in the business.”
Angelos crosses his arms. “Mum, since when do we have a gardener?” He studies Dan. “You look like my uncle.”
I wince, knowing that’s impossible, but can’t help but notice the resemblance too.
Angelos always looked more like Elio than he did me, but I figured it’s because he’s another male in the Conti family.
Thankfully, skipping the harsh features from my father.
“Take Charlie inside. The sweets are in the kitchen.”
Helena raises an eyebrow, biting back a smirk. “So, Grace, how long have you had a gardener?”
Dan scratches the back of his neck. “Specialist service. Grace has a very demanding bush—takes an expert to handle it.”
I choke on my own breath, my cheeks on fire.
“What kind of services does a specialist gardener do?” Helena stares at me over her sunglasses, her eyes wide like saucers.
“Trimming, pruning. Grace keeps me on my toes.”
I’ll step on his bloody toes in a minute.
“All right, let’s go inside. Dan needs to get back to work.” I wave my hand, gesturing Helena down the drive and into the house. “He’s meant to be working, not flirting.” I turn my head back to him and glare as I walk towards my front door. “Weeds need to be dealt with.”
“I’m working on the weeds, don’t worry,” Dan says, full of laughter, his nose scrunching in that irritating way.
I don’t dare look back in case I decide to murder him after all.
“Take your shoes off,” I call to the boys before they bound up the stairs.
Helena stumbles into the house behind the boys. “What the actual…” Her sunglasses rest on the tip of her nose, hanging low like her lax jaw.
“Ugh, not you as well. He’s already bewitched Mrs. Aranda next door.” I rub the soles of my feet, brushing off the dirt before sliding my feet into my flip-flops near the door. Should have put them on before. I roll my eyes at my own stupidity.
She drops her bag onto the kitchen worktop and closes the door to the kitchen now the boys are upstairs. “Spill the tea. I want all the details.”
I flick the switch on the kettle and lean back against the fridge door while chewing on my lip. “There’s nothing to tell.”
“Liar. How long has he been tending your bush?”
“I don’t need a man to tend to my bush.” A smile pushes my cheeks up. “I have a beautician for that.”
Her long nails tap against the glass chopping board. “And when was the last time you visited her?”
I shrug, pulling out two mugs, contemplating whether I should make Dan a drink as well. “About six months.”
“Six months?” she yells. “You need to book her in. If I was single and had a gardener like that, I wouldn’t be wasting his skills on topiary.”
I spin around and grab three tea bags for three mugs. “Please, I don’t need a therapy session on my waxing schedule.”
“No. You need a therapy session on him. The gardener. I saw the way you were with him. I’ve never known you fawn over a man before, so spill the tea.” She points a finger at the mug I’m stirring. “Not that tea, though. I’m parched.”
“He’s just here to trim my hedges.” And annoy the hell out of me. I grab the milk from the fridge and drop a splash into each mug.
She cackles. “Please. He’s trimming more than your hedges. Or at least he wants to. Is it me, or does he give off an ‘I’m your new obsession’ vibe? The way he was looking at you was intense.’”
I slide her mug of tea over to her. “Be back in a minute.” I lift Dan’s mug from the counter.
Helena perches her bottom on the breakfast bar stool and smirks behind the mug as if she knows I’m hopelessly attracted to my gardener.
Dan’s on his knees, weeding my border when I step onto the lawn.
“I made you a drink,” I say, towering above him, contemplating pouring it over his head.
He glances up at me with a wide smile. “Thank’s, Grace, I’m dying of thirst here. My mouth’s as dry as a desert.”
“Probably all the lies you keep telling. You should try keeping your mouth shut.”
He takes a sip of the drink with a chuckle. “Next time, I’ll let you do the talking. You can tell your friends and neighbours how you stabbed me in the back.” He smiles sarcastically.
“I think it was you that stabbed me in the back, pretending to be in love with me just to gather intel.” I wish I’d let him die of thirst. Smug bastard.
“Enjoy your drink. I only added two laxatives. But it should be enough to expel all your bullshit.” I turn around and storm back into the house.
Not giving Dan time to bewitch me with his smile or arm porn.
Helena shuffles on her stool in glee. “I knew it. You’re all flustered.”
I let out a long breath. “It’s complicated.”
“So you are fucking?”
“Keep your voice down. We’re not fucking.”
She blows into her hot drink. “But you want to. Admit it.”
“Fine,” I sigh, trying to act nonchalant.
It’s pointless denying that I want to have sex with him.
I mean, he’s like chiselled Italian marble.
Any girl with the best will in the world would crumble, eventually.
“But you’re not getting a single detail from me.
You’ll have to settle for your fantasies.
Just don’t go imagining things while I’m here.
And for the record—nothing has happened. ”
“Yet.” Her eyebrow rises again, and I know I’m in trouble. “Okay, but if he asks you to water his plants, you better let me know.”
I snort into my tea. “I don’t think he’s that kinky.”
“Have you stalked his Instagram? What’s his name? Or should I just call him Mr. I’m-going-to-make-your-knees-weak?”
“His name’s Dan Bianchi. And I’m definitely not stalking him.”
She’s already tapping her phone. “I am.” Her face frowns. “Huh? There’s nothing coming up for him.”
“I don’t think he has social media.” I’ve already searched many times over the years.
“Oh, I thought he’d want to show off his garden tools?”
I nearly spit out my tea this time. “What do you mean, garden tools?”
“Come on, Grace.” She leans in, lowering her voice like she’s telling me a deep secret. “We both know he’s got those big… gardening hands. And you’ve seen his arms. Don't even pretend like they don’t make you wonder how he’d handle… other things.”
I roll my eyes, but my heart’s racing, and I can feel a blush creeping up my neck. “You need to get your mind out of the gutter.”
“Gutter? I’m in the penthouse. I know exactly where your mind is going. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice how he fills out his jeans. The way he tugged that white t-shirt over his chest? Don’t lie. You were practically drooling.”
“I wasn’t drooling,” I snap, my voice louder than I meant. But it’s no use—she’s grinning as if she’s just won the lottery.
“Uh-huh,” she says, sipping her tea as if she’s just had the juiciest gossip of the decade. “You don’t have to admit it, babe. Your blush says it all. I mean, I can’t blame you. Dan is—chef’s kiss. He’s definitely got that ‘I’ll break your heart but I’ll be worth it’ vibe.”
Don’t I know it?
“Fine, whatever,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “But I’m telling you, there’s nothing happening between us. He’s just a guy who is good at pruning roses.” He certainly cut me down many years ago.
She bursts into laughter. “Oh, Gracie, keep telling yourself that. But we both know you’re counting down the days until he’s pruning more than just your… bushes.”
The kitchen door creaks open. We both stare at Dan. His grin couldn’t get any wider, as if he’s heard everything we’ve said and his ego’s about to explode.
He lifts the mug. “Thanks for the tea.”
Helena’s phone pings, and she rolls her eyes. “I gotta go.” She walks past Dan and into the hallway. “Charlie, we’re going.”
I follow her into the hallway. “Thanks for bringing Angelos home.”
“It was worth the thirty-mile round trip just to… you know.” She winks as the boys come downstairs, then air kisses my cheek. “Get it, girl.”
“Thank you for having me over last night. Mrs. Eseloma,” Angelos says.
“No problem. See you at school tomorrow.” She and her son wave as they walk to their car at the bottom of my drive.
I hug Angelos now his friend’s gone, and kiss the top of his head. “I’ve missed you. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, can we get a takeaway?” He looks up with his beautiful silvery-blue eyes that are all too similar.
“Sure. Why not?” I follow him into the kitchen, but halt in the doorway.
Dan stands there frozen in place, mug in hand, eyes glued to my son. Dan’s gaze cuts to mine, sharp and questioning. The mug in his hand trembles ever so slightly.
I take it from him and place it in the sink. “Anyway, it’s been a long day. Thank you for your help…” I smile through gritted teeth. “…with my bush.”
Dan doesn’t move. He just stares at Angelos. Or, more accurately, stares at the features that mirror his own.
My chest tightens. It’s so hard to breathe in here. I open a window, needing fresh air. Needing a distraction from Dan.
Angelos opens the fridge, rummaging around like it’s just any normal Sunday, helping himself to a can of fizzy pop.
“Don’t you have to get off now?” I say as I turn around from the window.
Dan looks up at me, his eyes full of questions and memories, like looking into a window to our past.
“You’ve already been so helpful. I couldn’t possibly ask you to stay any longer.” I widen my eyes and move around Angelos, rummaging through a cupboard for a takeaway menu.
My hands press against Dan’s chest as I try to usher him to the doorway, but he’s unmoving.
His gaze still fixed on Angelos as he asks, “How old is he?”
His voice is calm. Too calm.
But his eyes say everything.