Chapter 29
The B he’s just got an edge that sets him apart from the rest of the shoppers.
I already know that me shopping for homeware with him would result in the same kind of disastrous mismatch we have in every other area of our lives, so I have no idea why I’m trying it out for size in my head.
Lando frowns down at the colours. ‘Four different sea sprays on the same chart and none of them anything like the sea?’ He leans in closer. ‘I may have Soft Sea Spray in the bathroom at Smugglers End.’
If he told me that Queen Camilla had Dusky Blush in her visitor’s cloakroom at Windsor Castle, it wouldn’t sound any more incongruous or unlikely.
I give a cough. ‘That could be a white, Lando.’
His voice rises in surprise. ‘There’s more than one?’ Then it falls again and he nudges my elbow with his. ‘As you’re the colour expert, I’ll take your word on that.’
Tia gives a shout. ‘Don’t move! And thank you! That’s another fabulous shot in the bag.’ She takes a few more, then grins at us. ‘Great! Tear yourselves away from the paint! We’ll do the lighting aisle next, then floor tiles, and after that we can move outside to the garden area.’
We must be on a roll, because the next few takes go without a hitch. Half an hour later we’re on our way outside and as we pass the pallets of plaster bags and the cement mixers, they flip my mind back to the next-door cottage.
I stop again and turn to Lando. ‘So have you ever done anything practical?’
He shrugs. ‘I’ve done bits on boats, obviously.’ His smile widens. ‘Enough to know a Black and Decker Workmate is a table not a person.’
I sniff. ‘There’s no plaster on a boat. It’s all perished in the place next door; tradies cost a fortune, and that’s if you can find them.’
Lando clears his throat. ‘Salvador’s still got his team; we’re not short of contacts.’
I’d forgotten that, but I might as well go for broke while I’m here. ‘It’s a shame it’s not on the quayside, when you’ve waited so long to live there.’
Lando frowns. ‘Smugglers End is pretty busy, and it’ll only get worse as the season goes on.’ He stops and looks at me hard. ‘Do I sense you’d rather I didn’t look around?’
I’m shrivelling under his gaze, because I’ve always been blaming this on not wanting him anywhere near Nemmie.
But suddenly I have a whole new set of warning bells jangling in my head.
It began when he snuck Angel a Hobnob that day in his living room, and it’s been building with every shop we’ve visited this morning.
I’m kicking myself for spending so long so close to him; I mean we’ve been touching so often, it’s almost becoming easy.
Since the first day he turned up on the harbour, I’ve always acknowledged feeling a draw, but now it’s growing to the point that I’m back to how I was as a teenager, when it was agony to keep my hands off him.
Having him dangling next door, in touching distance but further out of reach than ever, would be like a living torture.