CHAPTER SIX
Charlie sat on his stool at the kitchen island worktop, staring at his laptop screen. The website he was working on failed to hold his attention, his gaze constantly being drawn to Sam—on his hands and knees laying new flooring in his sister’s kitchen.
Charlie’s mind had dived into the gutter as soon as Sam got on all fours and had stayed there.
Fancy Sam turning out to be the guy his sister had hired?
Charlie wasn’t surprised she hadn’t recognised him. She was seven years younger than them, hadn’t ever been at the same school. In fact, Charlie doubted she’d ever met him.
Sam had made quick work stripping the old lino off the floor and was now in the process of laying down laminate.
Charlie gave up on work and sat back to get a better view. “Wouldn’t tiles have been better in the kitchen?” When Sam glanced his way, Charlie nodded at the pile of flooring stacked in the corner. “Is it special stuff?”
Sitting up straight, Sam set his tools down with a sigh, and Charlie instantly felt bad for interrupting him.
“Sorry. I shouldn’t disturb you while you’ve obviously got loads to do.” He waved an arm around the kitchen.
“I can work and talk,” Sam replied after a moment. “I just figured you were busy.” He glanced at Charlie’s laptop.
“Oh.” Charlie gave up on work for a bit and closed it. “Thanks. I think I’ve done enough for a while.” He stretched his arms above his head, pleased when his back gave a satisfying crack, and didn’t miss the way Sam’s gaze dipped to his stomach. And yes, Charlie was aware that his T-shirt would ride up. There was nothing wrong with a little harmless flirting. Hopefully this time his showing off wouldn’t earn him an injury.
Sam’s eyes narrowed, and as if reading his mind, he said, “How’s your leg? Dave said he thought you were limping a bit the other day.”
“Yeah, I pulled a muscle running.” Not exactly the truth, but he wasn’t about to say, ‘I pulled a muscle while stretching and showing off like a tool.’ “It’s more or less back to normal now, thanks.” Wanting to keep the conversation going, Charlie pointed at the flooring again. “So is this special kitchen stuff then?”
“Yep.” Sam tapped the piece he’d just laid. “It’s got a real wood top layer and is highly resistant to moisture and temperature changes.”
Charlie smirked at his tone. “I stand corrected.”
“Sorry.” Sam let out another sigh, but this time his shoulders relaxed, and he offered Charlie a small smile that for some reason felt like a victory. “I can get a little defensive, I guess. But I’ve been at this job for about eight years now. I’ve done my research, training courses, and the like. I know what I’m doing.”
Charlie was quick to hold his hands up. “I’m sure you do. Didn’t mean to sound like I was questioning your judgement.” He grinned in an attempt to diffuse some of the building tension. “I was just curious because I’ve got wood laminate like this in my hallway—” Not any more you don’t. The reminder still pricked at him like sharp little needles in his vulnerable spots. “I used to have flooring like this in my old house, and it warped when the radiator leaked.”
Thankfully Sam didn’t mention his slip.
He didn’t say anything, and for once Charlie was eager to fill the silence. “Hey,” he said, getting off his stool. “Do you want another tea? I know workman drink loads of the stuff.”
Sam snorted but nodded. “Yeah, thanks.” He went back to laying flooring and Charlie put the kettle on.
The morning hadn’t been as weird as he’d been expecting. After coffee yesterday, Charlie had his doubts as to whether Sam was keen on Dave inviting him out with them. Not that Sam would be blunt enough to say it outright, but Charlie easily read between the lines. He liked to think Sam had warmed up to the idea a little by the time they parted ways, but he couldn’t be certain.
School felt a million miles away. Just because they hadn’t been best mates, that didn’t mean they couldn’t be good friends now. Charlie really liked Dave, would like to have him as a friend, especially with all his old mates no longer close by. He was pretty sure he’d like Sam, too, if Sam gave him a chance. Although possibly in a slightly different way. But friends would be a start.
CHARLIE STARTLED AT the sound of a key turning in the front door and glanced at the time on his phone. “Shit. I didn’t realise it was this late. We worked through lunch.” His stomach rumbled as if in agreement.
“Oh wow, it’s looking great.” Kath leant against the kitchen doorframe, surveying the floor. “I hope my brother hasn’t been too much of a nuisance.”
“Hey—”
Sam stood and wiped his hands on his jeans, a broad genuine smile in place when he turned to face Kath. “Nah,” he glanced over at Charlie. “Hardly noticed he was there.”
Charlie didn’t know whether to be offended by that or not, but then he saw the slight curve of Sam’s lips. An almost smile. He could work with that. Whatever reasons Sam initially had for not liking him, Charlie reckoned he was wearing him down with his wit and charm. Having Sam to himself for six hours seemed the way to go. A few more days and they’d be chatting like old friends.
Or new friends.
Charlie would settle for not feeling like he was missing something every time they bumped into each other. He was tempted to ask if Sam had a particular problem with him, some old school grudge he was clinging on to, but part of him wondered if he was being paranoid. It might be that Sam just didn’t like him. There didn’t need to be some underlying secret or old grievance. He could well think Charlie was an arsehole and that’s all there was to it.
So he’d work on proving that he was a likeable guy.
He caught Sam’s eye, the hint of a smile still there, reflected in the way his eyes crinkled at the corners. Charlie’s stomach gave the barest of flutters, and he sighed softly. Maybe friends wasn’t all he was hoping for, if he was honest, but was it too soon after Tim?
Not wanting to look too closely at that for now, Charlie closed his laptop and packed it away in his bag. “Right, now you’re home, I guess I’ll be off.”
Kath frowned. “You don’t need to rush off straight away. Let me make you some lunch.” She glanced around the kitchen, which was as clean as she’d left it apart from his and Sam’s mugs. “I bet you haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“No, but—”
“That’s settled. Stay for a sandwich at least. I’ve got leftover roast pork I could heat up and those rolls you like.”
“Stuffing?”
“Of course.” She gave him an expectant look, and Charlie caved, like they both knew he would.
“Okay, thanks.”
“How about you, Sam?” Kath asked, turning to face him. Sam had gone back to working on the flooring, and he stopped to look up at her, eyebrows scrunched together. “Do you fancy a pork roll, or have you already eaten?”
“Um…” He glanced at Charlie, and Charlie shrugged, no idea what he was looking for. “I left my lunch at home, so a pork roll would be great, if you don’t mind.”
“I wouldn’t have offered if I did.”
Sam smiled at her, sheepish and far warmer than any he’d sent Charlie’s way. “Thank you.”
Refusing to be jealous of his sister, Charlie hopped off the stool. “Want a hand?” he offered.
“Yeah, if you’re not busy.”
Between them, they made a lunch of hot pork rolls with apple sauce, stuffing, and gravy. The air filled with delicious smells, and Charlie’s mouth was watering by the time they sat down at the breakfast bar to eat—well, Kath sat down. Sam and Charlie stood because there was only one other stool. The kitchen table had been moved into the living room, for now, to give Sam room to work.
“Wow.” Sam eyed his plate, looking as hungry as Charlie felt. “These look amazing.” He took a big bite and let out a low, throaty moan.
Jesus. Charlie swallowed and looked away. That was one of the filthiest noises he’d heard in a long while. And that was over a bloody pork roll. Imagine how he’d sound—nope. Not going there. Especially not stood in his sister’s kitchen. “Good?” he asked, thankful his voice came out sounding relatively normal.
“Oh my God.” Sam nodded as he spoke. “So good.” He licked a spot of gravy off his lips, and Charlie only realised he was staring when he felt Kath’s gentle elbow in his ribs.
He quickly took a bite of his own food and concentrated on not spilling gravy down himself instead of watching Sam eat.
The rest of their late lunch past without Charlie making a fool of himself or Sam making any more unfortunate noises of appreciation. Charlie collected all three plates and loaded them into the dishwasher.
“Right.” He bent to pick up his bag. “I need to go.” Slipping an arm around Kath’s shoulders, he gave her a hug and a kiss. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“Okay. And thanks for this.”
“It’s no problem, really.” Charlie’s gaze slid to Sam involuntarily, and Kath raised a questioning eyebrow—he hated how she could do that. Just like their mum. Ignoring her, he said, “Same time in the morning, Sam?”
Sam looked up at the sound of his name, frowning at Charlie as though he’d spoken nonsense.
“It’ll be me letting you in again.”
Realisation dawned. “Ooh, yeah. I’ll be here at eight thirty again, if that’s all right?”
“Yep. Perfect.” Charlie smiled, but Sam had already turned back to his work. Okay then. With another goodbye to his sister, Charlie left the room and let himself out.
The day had been far more enjoyable than he’d been expecting when he’d got up that morning, and Charlie was extremely grateful for his weird working hours that allowed him to do stuff like that. It meant he had to work later tonight instead, but that was okay. He got in his car, smile spreading, already looking forward to tomorrow.
CHARLIE WOKE TO his alarm, cursing when he realised he’d already hit the snooze button twice. He was going to be late getting to Kath’s if he didn’t get a move on.
A text message chimed as he sat up and swung his legs out of bed, and Charlie’s stomach dropped a little when he saw it was from Tim.
Still coming to get the rest of your stuff tonight?
Yeah. He typed back. Is 7 ok?
Charlie didn’t work on a Friday night, but if he went at seven, he could meet a couple of his mates for a quick pint while he was over that way. And he’d probably need a pint and some company after seeing Tim.
Yeah that’s fine. See you later.
Setting his phone on the bedside table, Charlie shook off the lingering feeling of loss that resurfaced when he thought of Tim and headed for the shower.
New day.
New possibilities.
That’s what his mum always said to him when he was feeling shit, and she was right. His thoughts automatically went to Sam and the morning ahead at Kath’s house. “Friends,” he muttered to himself. “I just want to be friends.”
He made it to Kath’s for eight twenty, the morning traffic thankfully light for once. No sooner had he taken off his shoes and hung up his coat, when a sharp knock sounded on the door and Charlie smiled as he opened it wide to let Sam in.
“Morning.” Sam smiled back, tentative, but that was progress.
Charlie stepped back. “Come on—”
“I still can’t believe it’s your sister’s house we’re working on,” Dave shouted from the road as he appeared from behind the van parked outside.
Oh.
So he wasn’t getting Sam all to himself today.
Charlie shouldn’t have been disappointed. He liked Dave, and Dave was far friendlier towards him than Sam. He should be thrilled, excited even, to have someone to chat to who actually liked him. But Charlie’s smiled faltered for a second before he caught himself. He grinned and yelled back. “Yep. Small world.”
“I’ll get the sheets out of the van, then.” Sam gave him a curious look before returning to the van, passing Dave on the way.
Dave stopped just outside the door and leaned against the wall. “Are you staying here while we work?”
Charlie frowned. “I was going to, why? Is that a problem?”
“No. Just that the downstairs loo will be out of action today, and I’ll also need to turn the water off at some point, so just wanted to warn you.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah, the suite in there’s old, so there’s no compression isolators fitted. I’ll give you plenty of notice, and there’s an upstairs bathroom, isn’t there? Just use the loo up there for today.”
“Okay.” He smiled like he knew exactly what Dave was on about.
Sam appeared then, armed with sheets, so Charlie left them to it, grabbed his laptop bag, and went to set up in the kitchen.
He came to an abrupt halt at the kitchen door. The floor was finished. Turning to look over his shoulder, he said, “What time did you leave yesterday? Midnight?”
Sam straightened from fixing the dust sheets and came to stand next to him. “About seven, I think, in the end. I wanted to get it finished since I was so close, and Kath and Mike said they didn’t mind, so…” He peered past Charlie into the room. It brought him close enough for Charlie to get a good whiff of whatever he’d showered in that morning—something citrusy and fresh. The hair at the back of his neck looked a little damp, and Charlie had the sudden urge to reach out and touch it, to see if it was.
He crossed his arms. “It looks really good. I bet they were over the moon.” The wood was almost white in colour and made the room seem brighter than it had looked before.
“Yeah, they seemed pleased.”
The pale-yellow walls looked a bit out of place now, and Charlie gestured to them. “Aren’t you painting in here too? I thought it would’ve been easier to paint, then lay the floor. No?”
Sam turned to look at him, expression hard to read. Charlie would say he looked a mixture of pissed off and amused. “Are you implying I’ll get paint all over everywhere?”
“No. Not at all, I just thought—”
To Charlie’s surprise, Sam laughed. It was the most open and relaxed Charlie had seen him yet.
Of course, it was gone as soon as it appeared. Sam schooled his features into his usual stoic expression. But Charlie had seen it. There was light at the end of the tunnel.
“No, you’re right,” he said. “Ordinarily it would’ve made sense to paint everywhere, then lay the floor, but Kath wants everything done by next Friday so they can put the tree up at the weekend.”
“Tree?” Charlie asked, confused.
Sam looked at him as though he was crazy. “Their Christmas tree.”
“Ohhh!” What a fucking idiot. “Of course. I forgot its December tomorrow.” Kath always did like to get her decorations up early. “I’m surprised she’s not badgering you to finish quicker.”
“Yesterday was the earliest we could start. Anyway, if we get the living room and hall painted in time, then I’ll do the kitchen, but it’s not essential. The kitchen floor, the living room, and the hall were her priorities.”
Charlie nodded.
The mention of Christmas brought with it the unpleasant thought that he’d be spending it on his own this year. No lazy morning in bed, opening presents with a glass or two of Buck’s Fizz. Well, he could still do that, but it would only be him and Storm this year.
Not quite the same.
“Right. I better crack on,” Sam said, already backing away from the door.
“Yeah, of course.” Charlie sighed, then walked over to his spot at the island and got out his laptop.
THE KITCHEN SEEMED quiet without the sounds of Sam working.
Even though Charlie could hear him and Dave working out in the hall, it wasn’t the same as yesterday, and Charlie spent the next couple of hours restless, unable to concentrate on anything. By half ten he gave up.
Poking his head round the kitchen door, he stopped short at the sight of Sam rolling paint onto the wall. The muscles in his back and shoulders moved with each smooth stroke of the roller, the material of his T-shirt pulled taught. Charlie sighed. Sam was hot to look at—jury was still out on his personality since he seemed to have something against Charlie—but thinking about anything beyond that left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. A lot like betrayal, which was ridiculous because he and Tim had been over for a while before he moved out. It wasn’t sudden. Their relationship hadn’t ended overnight; they’d both known it was coming.
Charlie watched for a couple of seconds more before he remembered what he’d been about to ask. “Anyone fancy a tea?” It came out rather louder than he’d meant, and Sam jerked, almost dropping the roller.
“Shit!” He fumbled with it, smearing paint along his forearm, and Charlie laughed.
“Sorry.”
Eyebrows raised, Sam glanced up at him. “Yeah, you look sorry.” He smiled though, so Charlie grinned back. “And yes, I’d love a cuppa.”
“Me too.” Dave poked his head out of the downstairs loo. “But I hope you already filled the kettle because the water’s still off while I finish fitting the sink.”
Arse, had he?
“One sec.” Ducking back into the kitchen, Charlie checked the kettle, relieved that it was almost full, and he wouldn’t look like a tit. “Yeah, we’re good,” he said, walking back out to the hall. Turning to Dave, he asked, “How do you take it?”
“Strong, with one sugar, thanks?”
When Charlie didn’t ask Sam the same, he caught Dave giving Sam a questioning look. “I made him enough tea yesterday to know how he takes it,” Charlie offered. “I’ll see if I can rustle up some biscuits too.”
Feeling oddly embarrassed, though he couldn’t put his finger on why, Charlie retreated to the kitchen and flicked the kettle on.