CHAPTER FIVE
Well, fuck!
Thank you very much, Dave.
Sam was going to kill him when he saw him in the morning. Of course, this wasn’t at all weird or awkward in the least.
Settling back in his seat, Charlie looked as though he had all the time in the world and wasn’t the least bit uncomfortable at being left with Sam.
Sam fiddled with the handle on his coffee cup before letting out a resigned sigh and looking up.
Charlie arched an eyebrow. “You can go if you want. I’m quite happy to sit here on my own.”
Arse.
Heat rushed to his cheeks, and Sam wanted the floor to open up and swallow him. He probably looked like a right miserable bastard, but this was Charlie Wanker Whitmore. Sam spent the last year at school hating him, and as pleasant as he seemed to be now, the idea of sitting there making small talk made Sam cringe, especially with the big fat elephant in the room.
That’s how Sam felt anyway.
Charlie appeared far too relaxed for his liking. Didn’t he feel at all uncomfortable knowing he’d put Sam’s best friend—at the time—in the hospital?
His body language suggested not. Had Charlie forgotten? Was it something that didn’t warrant a second thought these days? Tempted to just ask him about it out right, Sam opened his mouth, then Charlie smiled, all warm and easy, but it was the disappointment in his eyes that had Sam faltering.
He couldn’t do it.
Couldn’t meet his gaze and stubbornly drag up something from their past that was likely to put an end to whatever friendship might be starting between them all. That, and Dave would probably kill him.
Damn it.
“Really, it’s fine.” Charlie prompted. “You don’t need to stay.”
Forcing down the childish part of him that wanted to poke at that old wound until they were forced to address it, Sam managed to smile back and hoped it didn’t look as weird as it felt. “I don’t have anywhere to be just yet. Might as well finish my coffee.” Picking up his cup as though adding emphasis to his statement, Sam took a big drink, almost finishing it in one go.
Charlie laughed and shook his head, but didn’t comment.
“So…” Sam searched for something to say, wishing Charlie would help him out since he’d had no trouble chatting to Dave. “Cleaning? Can’t say I’d have pegged you as doing that for a living.”
“Why? Because I’m a bloke?” Charlie rolled his eyes. “You sound just like my dad.”
“No!” Sam shook his head. Christ, his mum would kill him if he ever thought shit like that, let alone said it out loud. “I always assumed that it was cleaning companies that did schools and stuff like that. Not like—” He gestured to Charlie. “—one bloke or whatever.”
“I have a company name. And it’s not just me. I have people who work for me.” He met Sam’s eyes. The disappointment from before was long gone, now replaced with amusement. “It’s hard work. I’d never get it all done on my own.”
At the mention of hard work, and despite himself, Sam’s gaze dropped to Charlie’s shoulders and upper arms—firm, solid-looking. The long-sleeved T-shirt he wore fit snuggly enough that Sam got a good idea of what might be hiding underneath.
If he was interested, which he so wasn’t.
“How did you get into it, though?” Sam shifted in his seat and focused on his cooling coffee dregs for a second. “It doesn’t sound like something you can just decide to do?”
“No.” The sigh Charlie let out gave Sam the impression it wasn’t a topic he was overly keen to talk about.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he offered. “It’s fine. None of my business, anyway.” The smile he managed this time felt more natural. Sam understood a reluctance to talk about your career history. People often gave him odd looks when he told them what he did for a living. That he’d left a well-paid, steady job to go it on his own and do something he enjoyed instead of something he tolerated.
Charlie looked up, hazel eyes catching the light. Framed by thick dark lashes, Sam was taken aback for a second at how stunning they were. He swallowed and looked away quickly. “Short version is I needed some extra money, and a mate of mine had just started this cleaning business, so I started working for him. He got a couple of contracts, enough to keep us busy, but ultimately decided it wasn’t for him anymore. I took it over, built it up a bit more.”
Sam frowned. Seemed all rather simple, but what did he know? Charlie must be doing all right if he could afford his own place.
They lapsed into silence again, not as awkward as before, but Sam still felt the urge to leave. Glancing at the dregs of his coffee, he set his cup down with purpose. “I do really need to go now.” He checked the time on his phone, and wow, it was later that he thought. He did have to go. “Got to pick up my van from the garage.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.” They both stood at the same time. “I walked here, but if you need a lift, we can nip back and get my car.” He offered Sam another of those easy smiles, as if helping him out really was no trouble.
Sam contemplated taking him up on the offer but ultimately decided against it. The walk would do him good. Help clear his head. “Thanks, but it’s okay. The garage is on the industrial estate.” At Charlie’s blank stare, he elaborated. “The one off the island with The White Swan pub on it?”
“Oh, yeah. I think I know where you mean.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Sure I can’t drop you?”
“Nah, it’s fine. It’ll only take me about twenty minutes to walk, and I was looking forward to a bit of fresh air.” Which was all true.
“Okay then.” Charlie rocked back on his heels a little, and Sam looked down at the ground.
Jeez, he was a grown man. Why was this so fucking difficult? He got the distinct feeling Charlie was doing it on purpose. “Right, I guess I’ll be seeing you at the pub soon, then.”
“Yeah, I’ll try and make it next week, or the week after.”
Sam didn’t know how he felt about that, having met Charlie again, but he managed a smile anyway. “Great.” With a small, sharp nod, he turned and made his escape.
THE WINTER SUN warmed Sam’s face as he walked through the estate in the direction of the garage. Coffee with Charlie had been… weird, but not awful like he’d been expecting. If he was honest with himself, Sam had fully expected Charlie to be a right knob, just liked he’d been at school. And Sam would probably have felt happy, vindicated, and then carried on hating him for the rest of his life.
But Charlie hadn’t been a knob. At all. If Sam hadn’t met him before, he’d probably think he was a great bloke.
And probably fancy him too.
But he did know him.
The Charlie from school and the present-day Charlie were worlds apart, and Sam wasn’t sure how to slot it all together. One thing he did know was that Dave was an arsehole for doing a runner.
Pulling out his phone, he typed a quick text. Thanks for that. You bastard.
The reply came back almost immediately. Like he’d been waiting. You’re welcome. Figured you two might want some alone time to catch up.
There’s nothing I like more than an awkward silence with my coffee. Sam imagined Dave laughing at him.
Oh come on, he’s easy to talk to. Even you have to admit he’s a nice bloke.
Hot too. He added a couple of seconds later.
Sam wasn’t touching that second text. I guess he’s all right.
Dave’s next message took a little while longer, as though he’d debated asking. Did you bring up Nigel Watts and the fight?
No. Sam waited at the traffic lights for the little man to turn green. Almost did. But didn’t seem like the right time or place.
If he starts coming to the pub with us, then I think you either need to get it out of the way now. Or let it go and forget about it.
Sam read the text twice, mulled it over as he crossed the dual carriageway.
Charlie was easy-going, friendly. Nowadays, he couldn’t help but add. Sam could easily see him slotting in with his and Dave’s group of mates.
Or if it really bothers you still, I can have a word. Tell him I don’t think it’s such a good idea after all.
Dave’s text took him a bit by surprise, but it shouldn’t have done. He always had Sam’s back. Even if it meant doing something he’d rather not, he’d do it anyway. That’s why he was Sam’s best mate. And not fucking Nigel.
Sam mulled that over too while he walked the last few minutes to the garage. Charlie had moved into a new flat, new area, and from what Sam could tell, away from his friends.
Past differences aside, Charlie had seemed okay. Sam would feel shitty if he asked Dave to rescind his invitation.
He was also Sam’s next-door neighbour. Imagine how unpleasant bumping into him would be after that.
Besides, it wasn’t as though he’d be seeing him all the time. And they had a big social circle. With any luck, he could palm him off on his mates, those with no history.
Feeling okay about the situation, Sam replied. Leave it. I’m good.
SAM WAS UP bright and early the next morning. Thankfully his cough hadn’t bothered him nearly as much, and he’d managed a full night’s sleep. He’d also managed to leave his flat without any more embarrassing run-ins with Charlie.
Glancing at Charlie’s windows as he walked down the path, Sam wondered if he was already up and gone or if he was still tucked up in bed. Warm.
Possibly naked. Or maybe just wearing underwear.
That led him to wonder if Charlie wore boxers or briefs and whether he had thighs as solid as they’d looked in his running gear. Sam was a big fan of firm hairy thighs.
When he felt himself smiling at the thought, he shook his head as if that would dispel the image. He was not interested in Charlie Whitmore.
Nope.
He might be a reformed character, but Sam still remembered the state of Nigel after he came back from A&E. Forced himself to picture it. No, he might be friendly towards Charlie, might appreciate he was attractive, but Sam wasn’t going there.
The job they were starting today was one of the bigger ones he and Dave got asked to do. Kath and Mike Watson were friends of a friend and wanted the kitchen/diner and living room decorating along with a new toilet and sink in the downstairs loo.
All before the middle of December, if possible.
It might be tight depending on how well the old flooring came up, but Sam reckoned if all went well, they’d have it done in a week or so. It led them nicely up to Christmas, and Sam was looking forward to getting stuck in. Dave was fitting the bathroom stuff tomorrow, but this morning Sam was on his own.
He pulled up on the drive—with the homeowners’ permission—just before eight thirty. The house sat in a cul-de-sac on a housing estate much like the one where Sam lived, but about five miles away. Both Kath and Mike were already at work, but Kath had assured him someone would be there to let him in.
After locking up his van, Sam walked up to the door and rang the bell. And waited.
Nothing.
Fuck, he really hoped they’d not forgotten.
Giving it a couple more minutes, he tried again.
“Coming! Just a sec.” The voice sounded vaguely familiar. Maybe Sam had met them at the pub. Wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility. But at any rate, at least someone was there to let him in.
A few seconds later, he heard a thud followed by a muffled curse. Then the door opened and—
Oh fucking hell.
Charlie stood there rubbing his arse and staring. “Oh.” He grinned, recovering from his shock much quicker than Sam. “What are the chances, eh?”
Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. He frowned, thoroughly confused. “What’s going on?”
“I’m guessing you’re the guy doing my sister’s decorating?” Charlie peered over Sam’s shoulder. “Is Dave coming too?”
“Later,” Sam muttered, still off-kilter at seeing Charlie. “So, Kath and Mike…”
“Are my sister and brother-in-law,” Charlie finished for him. “Sorry to spring this on you, but she didn’t tell me names, just that you’d be starting this morning, and could I let you in.”
“She’s not here?” Sam said without thinking, and Christ there he went again stating the obvious.
Sam shook his head and slipped his hands into his pockets. “Nope. There’s some bug going round her department, and I think a couple of nurses called in sick. Apparently they’ve juggled the shifts around, so Kath’s doing six till two all week.”
Oh. Not a lot Sam could say to that. “Okay.”
Stepping back out of the way, Charlie gestured inside. “You coming in?”
The sand-coloured hall carpet looked fairly new, and Sam needed to keep it that way. “Yeah, in a sec. I’ve got some dust sheets I want to put down in the hallway before I start. Don’t want to traipse dirt in and out.”
He glanced up to find Charlie rubbing his arse again, then put two and two together. “That bang when I arrived. Was that you?”
Charlie’s blush told him it was.
“I might have had a small mishap.” Charlie’s gaze darted to the bottom step, and Sam arched an eyebrow.
“Did you fall down the stairs?”
“I was in a hurry to get downstairs because someone was hammering on the front door—”
“I wasn’t hammering.”
“—and my socks slipped on the bottom step.”
Sam winced in sympathy. “Ouch.”
“Yeah. Thank God I’ve got a bit of padding back there.”
Not from what Sam remembered. Firm and muscular, yes. Padded? Not so much. “Right.” Sam coughed and tried to dispel thoughts of Charlie’s arse. “I better get started.”
“Oh, yeah. Of course.” Charlie’s smile was sheepish this time. “I’ll get out of your way.” He turned to walk down the hallway to the kitchen, then stopped. “I’m going to make a cuppa. Do you want one?”
Sam looked up in surprise. “That’d be great, thanks.”
With a small nod, Charlie headed into the kitchen and Sam went out to get the sheets from his van. Was Charlie going to be at the house all day? Did it matter if he was?
Sam mused on it as he got all his stuff together.
He hadn’t decided either way by the time Charlie brought him his tea. It did appear that Charlie was staying at the house, though.
Whatever.
Sam had work to do.