Fixed Up (10 page)

‘Thought you'd already worked that out.'

Luke laughed again, shoving his gloved hands deep into his jeans pockets and rocking slightly on the balls of his feet. For some reason he reminded Harper of a cowboy, all swagger and confidence. Though he had more than just attitude and the perfect butt for denim. If that's all he had she could easily dismiss him and forget his smile and the glint in his eye. Though it would be harder to forget that kiss.

What caught her was the way he cared.

About people, things. Maybe even about her. She could find no other explanation for why he was in her garden, chopping and stacking her wood as this wild and windy day swirled around, enveloping them in a cloud of leaves and sawdust.

Her throat tightened, suddenly dry.

He couldn't care about her. It was all wrong. She was all wrong.

She pulled her earmuffs back over her ears, retreating into her little bubble of confusion and they finished the work in silence. Harper ignored Luke's questioning looks as she swept the driveway clear, her mind racing.

‘We're done,' she said at last.
You can go now.

Luke pulled off his gloves, dumped them on his canvas bag, fiddled about with his chainsaw. Her eyes were pulled to denim stretching tight across his thighs as he squatted beside his bag, tidying his gear away.

She forced her eyes to focus on her wrist watch. ‘That took nearly five hours. Three of them with you helping. I owe you for three hours work.'

‘What?' Luke stood up, wiping his hands on his shirt. ‘You're not paying me for this. It was a friend helping a friend out of a situation.'

‘I don't use my friends like that.' Harper pulled off her own gloves, twisting them in her hands. ‘I'd like to pay you for your time.'

‘Keep your money. I won't take it.' Luke's eyes narrowed, his voice a little chilly now, his lips pressed tight. The way he looked at her made her breath hitch and her throat jam. She tried to clear it so she could explain.

‘You have to take the money. I—I'm uncomfortable with people just doing stuff for me.'

‘All people, or me specifically?' Luke rubbed the back of his neck, before reaching towards her with a jerky movement and taking her hand. Leading her to the front steps, he sat, pulling her down beside him. ‘Spill.'

Harper tried to gather her thoughts, which cascaded riotously between panic and pleasure as Luke continued to hold her hand, his thumb rubbing gently back and forth across her palm. It was soothing, but also distracting, so she pulled away and tucked both her hands under her thighs. She tried to laugh.

Failed.

Luke regarded her with his steady gaze. The glint in his eye was gone but the smile was back. Patient. Trust me, it said.

She wanted to trust him. She bit her lip and looked down at her scuffed work boots. Her back ached but she resisted the urge to rub it and readjusted her sitting position instead.

‘I'm a crap storyteller,' she said, dragging her gaze back to his stormy blues.

‘I've heard you spin a few yarns in class. Sounded good to me.' He nodded encouragingly.

Harper puffed out a quick breath. ‘I just have this thing about men doing stuff round the house for me. Men who are supposed to be my friends, I mean. I have a rule.'

‘And the rule is—?' Luke's voice was low, composed and she longed to spit out all her stupid frustrations.

‘Oh for Pete's sake. I don't let my boyfriends help around the house because I don't want them to think I owe them anything.'

Luke's lips twitched. ‘Am I your boyfriend now?'

‘Grow up. We're not fourteen.' Harper glared at him, aware a tell-tale flush crept across her face. She turned away and caught a glimpse of her reflection in the glass of the front window. She looked tired, grumpy—and suddenly she was sick of it. Sick of worrying about Annie. Sick of trying so friggin' hard to
not
become her mother. It was too easy to be weak-willed. Too easy to lose your reputation. Too easy to be easy. She had to make Luke understand why rules were necessary.

‘My mother was a disaster.' Words blurted out of her, faster than speeding bullets. ‘She couldn't do a thing for herself. She tried to bring Annie and me up on her own, but she was bloody useless. I know I sound horrible, but she was. Useless. And that was when she remembered we were even there.'

‘What about your father?'

Harper pushed her hands deeper under her thighs. Her eyes searched Luke's face. ‘I don't have one and Annie's died when she was a baby. Piecing it altogether now, as an adult, I think Mum lost it after he died. She used to cry a lot.'

‘And you? How did you cope?'

‘I was only five. I think I was angry that he'd gone. And then I suppose I just forgot.' She kicked her boots against the step as if dislodging a stone. A puff of sawdust fell from her socks.

‘I remember when I was little, there was a storm, like the one last night, and a section of our roof blew off. Mum cried. We couldn't afford to fix it. But then a few days later it was fixed. Mum had a new boyfriend and it just so happened he owned a roofing business. Then it was pipes. Mum needed the ancient copper pipes replaced so the next boyfriend was a plumber. I still remember the shiny new taps … It took me ‘til I was twelve to see the pattern. All I'd noticed up until then was that every time Mum had a new boyfriend, I had to keep out of the way and look after Annie.' Harper sniffed, hoping she didn't sound bitter. Or worse, sorry for herself. It was what it was.

‘You're clearly nothing like your mother.' Luke said. ‘Your tree fell over and you started chopping it up all on your own. I don't know another woman on the planet who'd do that. I don't know another woman who owns a chainsaw, much less knows how to actually use it.' Luke laughed. ‘Jeez, normally you wouldn't get me within fifty metres of a chick with a chainsaw.' He had that glint in his eye again and he reached over to pull her hand out from under her, toppling her off balance so she leaned against him. He spoke softly, his voice a whisper in her ear: ‘You, Harper Cassidy, are nothing like your mother, and as you insist I'm not your boyfriend you don't owe me a thing.'

Harper's nose pressed against Luke's shirt. He smelled hot, sweaty and very comforting. Her senses reeled, her eyes closing as she took a surreptitious breath.

‘Okay,' she said. But it wasn't. She'd spilled too much personal information. He knew too much about her now. And even though he'd been totally relaxed about her freak out, she couldn't help feeling embarrassed. The memory of his lips on hers surged back to the surface. Lips like those were rule breakers and once the rules were broken she'd be following her mother straight to hell in a shiny new hand basin.

Luke sat dead still. Maybe if he didn't move, Harper wouldn't either and he could savour this moment, which felt like a major breakthrough. He wasn't sure why she was sniffing him, he imagined he smelled pretty rank, but hey, he was happy if she was happy. Whatever turned her on was fine by him.

He was starting to feel pretty turned on himself now.

‘Will you come out for dinner with me tonight?' he asked.

‘What?'

‘I think you heard me. Yes or no?'
Stop pissing about, Harper. I know you know I really like you.

Harper looked at him. ‘Yes, but it's not a date. It's my treat—as a thank you because you helped me out today.'

He was tempted to tell her she was annoying and difficult and that she didn't deserve him. But he didn't.
You're a prize idiot. She doesn't give a shit about you as anything more than a friend.

Luke pulled himself away. ‘I'll head home to shower and pick you up at seven-ish?'

Harper nodded. ‘Or I could pick you up.'

‘No.
I'll
drive. See you at seven.' He hoisted his gear up and headed out to the truck, too afraid to look back in case she changed her mind. She might think it was on her terms, that it wasn't a date and that she was paying, but he knew differently.

To Luke it was the chance he'd been waiting for. The night out with her he'd wanted since the day they met, and he wasn't going to let Harper stand in the way of a great date with Harper.

When he returned at seven-o-one to pick her up, she was waiting for him. Dressed in tight jeans and a silky top, she sat on the top step of her front porch, pretty much where he'd left her earlier. Beside her sat a glass of white wine, a discarded paperback and a pair of sandals. It seemed promising she was painting her toenails what could only be described as harlot red. Definitely a positive sign.

‘Ready to go?' he said, unsure of correct greeting etiquette for date slash non-date situations.
Friendly cheek kiss, handshake, fist bump?

‘Just need to give my toes a couple of minutes to dry. Would you like a wine?'

‘No thanks.' Though the thought of a quick glass of Dutch courage held a certain appeal. Harper looked stunning. Dark shiny hair hung loose, framing her face and making her brown eyes appear larger than ever. Her lips were glossy and her skin glowed. His hands itched to touch her. But the window of opportunity for the casual ‘hello' kiss had already slammed shut.

Luke waited while she put her belongings inside and locked the front door. A strappy purse appeared from somewhere and she tossed it over her shoulder. Carefully she edged the freshly-painted toes into delicate sandals and they walked towards his car, a sleek black BMW.

‘No truck?' Harper sounded surprised.

‘Nope. It's a gas guzzler. Doing my bit for the environment with this baby.' He reached to open the car door for her, but she beat him to it, pulling the door handle and sliding into the vehicle. By the time he walked round to the driver's seat and climbed in, Harper had her seatbelt on and was all settled.

‘You can't help it, can you,' she said.

‘Help what?'

‘Doing things for people. Opening doors, running errands, chasing around to make sure everyone's happy.'

‘Not everyone, no.' But Luke remembered the dinner reservations he'd booked and suddenly wished he hadn't. It'd seemed a good idea at the time to book them into his friend Jay's restaurant. He was Jay's biggest supporter. Literally. Luke had stumped up the cash for Jay to open the restaurant, always convinced his friend was an extremely talented chef who deserved his own place. He usually loved taking people to Jay's.

Did he have time to tell Jay and the staff to pretend they'd never seen him before? Luke experienced a strange thud in his stomach as he turned the key in the ignition. Harper had him second guessing himself as bad as a girl. He took a deep breath, checked his side mirrors and pulled out into the tree-lined street, which was still scattered with branches after the storm.

Luke had always thought Jay's restaurant was the perfect destination for a romantic dinner. Classy without being formal or too stuffy, it appealed to all the senses. Fantastic scents wafting from the kitchen made Luke's mouth water as he and Harper followed the waiter to their seats, and music playing softly from hidden speakers filled the spaces between chitchat. He slid into the cosy booth opposite Harper, waited for her to put her purse aside and get comfortable. She fidgeted, rubbing her hands up and down her jeans a couple of times before pushing them under her thighs.

The fact that she looked nervous helped quell the faint rolling in his own gut and he relaxed into the cushioned seat.

‘Lucky for you I don't take up much leg room,' said Harper as she, too, wiggled back into the cushions. Their feet bumped under the table anyway and she quickly adjusted her position. He smiled. For a non-date, this sure felt very first-datey. He drummed his fingers thoughtfully on the table, his usual sense of ease returning as she smiled back at him.

‘You should smile more,' he said.

‘My sister tells me I'm a grumpy cow. A party-pooper. I think she called me a complete killjoy only last week.' Her smile shrunk and her shoulders drooped a little.

‘I meant it as a compliment. You have a beautiful smile. I just haven't seen it much.'

‘Oh.' Harper's cheeks were flushed. Her hair looked even glossier in the soft lighting as she fiddled with the menu.

Luke had another revelation as he watched her.

He was falling for her.

Really falling for her. As in falling
in love
with her. And he'd only known her a few weeks. He couldn't even blame it on any amazing physical connection because they'd only locked lips once and that kiss had turned to shit.

Maybe it'd been love at first sight. The thrill of her tumbling into his arms and making him feel like a hero. The attraction had been there right from the word go. He'd never pursued anyone as much as he'd pursued her.

Yet apart from the odd glimmer of interest, there'd been no real indication whatsoever she returned his feelings. To the contrary, she'd stated repeatedly, pre-kiss, that she was too busy to go out with him, and post-kiss, that it had all been a disaster and she wasn't interested.

Though she'd certainly seemed interested when she'd had her hands in his hair and her tongue in his mouth.

Where did a guy go from there?

***

Halfway through the meal Harper started to relax. She hadn't intended to and the initial process of relaxation was gradual and sneaky, her body tuning into its surroundings without her mind's permission. First her toes, then the muscles in her legs, then the aching lower back traitorously settled into the soft and welcoming booth, lulled by the music and the deep timbre of Luke's voice. She told herself it was because she was tired after the rigours of the day, all the while knowing she lied.

She enjoyed Luke's company. It wasn't a crime to admit it, surely? He had lots to say and an entertaining way of saying it, he looked good and knew the best things to order from the menu. The perfect dinner companion.