Fixed Up (5 page)

Smiling goodbye to her last student, she sat down, pulled out a piece of paper and scribbled down some quick notes. She packed the remainder of the tools and equipment into the small storage room attached to the classroom, then grabbed her bag and dashed to the community centre's main office. Mr Thompson, the centre manager, stood in the hallway jiggling a bunch of keys in one hand, ready to begin his round locking up the building for the night.

‘Mr Thompson,' Harper called out down the corridor, keen to nab him before she drove home. He looked up, his elderly face a round moon stretched wide by a welcoming smile. ‘Finished for the evening, Harper?'

‘Yes. We had a fun class. You probably heard the banging.'

‘Your classes are certainly the loudest in the centre. I'm glad we're using the room up the far end of the corridor for the yoga class. They like their peace and quiet.'

Harper smiled. ‘Endless hammering would intrude on those meditative moments … I wanted to speak to you, if you have a minute.'

‘Certainly. Everything's going well I hope?' Harper saw the familiar flicker of doubt in his face. Courteous as he was, he'd never said outright that he thought Harper's women-only classes were too ambitious, that he didn't think she'd ever get enough takers. But she knew that's what he thought.

Yet another doubting man to be won over.

She took a deep breath. ‘I'm thinking about offering daytime classes over the holidays but before I go any further I wanted to make sure the room would be available. Maybe for three weeks, starting the fifth of January, Monday to Friday?'

‘Oh.' Mr Thompson blinked. ‘Do you think you can organise classes at such short notice? We normally plan our courses well in advance to ensure the enrolment levels are high. You aren't giving yourself enough time.'

‘I know it's short notice but I need to try. I can't afford to sit around all summer twiddling my thumbs. I need to get my name out there.'

It wasn't the right approach; Mr Thompson looked more doubtful now. ‘The thing is, when the centre installed the workbenches in that room it was under the strict proviso that different groups would have access. Flower arranging, craft club, you name it. Quite a few others use that room.'

‘I know, but not over the holidays, surely?'

‘No, because holidays simply aren't a popular time for people to enrol in courses. But funnily enough, this isn't the first request I've had for the room these holidays. The gardening club instructors were murmuring about holding a couple of extra meetings there, too. ‘

‘They could go anywhere! And I think DIY courses are different. People are used to thinking about DIY on their days off. Maybe the holidays are the perfect time to run my courses. I was thinking mornings, for around three hours.' She smiled what she hoped was a persuasive and confident-looking smile.

‘You've thought about this, have you?' said Mr Thompson, with a slight frown.

‘Absolutely,' she replied.
For at least five minutes.
‘Please, I'd really like to try. See how far I get with pulling it together.'

‘All right. But Harper, you'll have to pay a full weekly rental on the room irrespective of how many students enrol, and if you are the only class using the centre during that period the costs normally shared by other users will need to be covered by you alone. It'll prove to be quite expensive if you don't fill your class.'

She hadn't thought about how that would eat into any profits, but she smiled and nodded anyway. ‘How about I get back to you in a day or two with a more concrete plan?' she suggested.

‘You're really quite determined to do this?' Mr Thompson's tone was still full of doubt, but his expression was kind. ‘Go ahead and start planning, but just remember Harper, if you can't get the numbers, we'll have to cancel the class.'

Harper thanked him and headed towards her car. Her mind buzzed, torn between enthusiasm and fear. She had three weeks.

Three weeks to recruit enough students to make it a viable proposition. Three weeks to prove Mr Doubting Thompson wrong. And then another three weeks of teaching to keep her head above water and have something to show Cliff King.

But anything that kept her mind off Luke Colton had to be a bonus.

***

‘Darling, I appreciate the time you took to get these samples, but they're not really … me.' Luke's mother, Shelia, looked a little dismayed as she surveyed yet another array of swatches, cards and samples in front of her. Luke picked up one he could now see was particularly nasty.

‘Sorry. I just wanted to help,' he said. ‘I can get some more tomorrow.'

‘You must have better things to do. I can sort this out myself. It might be fun to go to the home depot.'

Luke tried to keep the dubious look off his face. ‘It's just as easy for me. They know me and I have a trade account. And you haven't renovated before. There's more to it than just slapping paint around.'

‘Which is why I thought I'd sign up for that DIY class.' Shelia bounced on her toes as she presented him with a familiar-looking brochure.

‘DIY Divas?'

‘Yes. I saw the brochure on the passenger seat of your truck. You obviously picked it up then forgot to give it to me. It looks fun. And it's just women, so there won't be boys like you there to laugh at us.'

‘That's a terrible idea.' Luke struggled to mask the horror on his face at the thought of his mother let loose with a power tool. ‘I only had the brochure because I know the woman who runs the class.' He took the brochure and turned it over. Harper's face, which he'd looked at hundreds of times in the last week or so, smiled sweetly back at him. Funny how someone could look so different in a photo, yet the essence of their strength and passion still remained. Why had she brushed him off so easily? He wondered what he was missing.

Shelia peered over his shoulder. ‘She's pretty.'

‘You think?'

‘Someone sounds a bit … wistful?' Shelia nudged him gently. ‘How well do you know this girl?'

‘Not at all. Maybe I should sign up for her class too.' He forced a weak smile.

‘We'd never squeeze you into a dress and heels. Not one that'd cover up all your chest hair, anyway.'

‘Are you seriously thinking about doing her class?'

‘Yes. I googled her and then phoned. She has a week-long course starting after New Year. Auntie Joan's keen and a couple of the girls from book club. It's painting and decorating, so you'll have to let me choose my own samples after that.'

‘But it's not necessary for you to do her class when you've got me to do things for you. I'm in construction, remember? And I always get my guys to give Auntie Joan a good deal.'

‘Well, maybe Joan and I want to join the revolution. When we were growing up, it sounded good to say girls could do anything, but then we just went off and had babies and didn't bother. We need to try new things while we've still got it in us. And this Harper looks nice. Understanding …'

‘She's certainly dedicated.'

An idea started to form in Luke's mind. The next best thing to being Harper's student himself would be to have his mother and aunt as her students.

‘Hmmm, you might just be onto something.' Luke scratched his chin.

‘Luke? Is there something you're not telling me?'

‘Kinda embarrassing. I wanted to ask Harper out but she turned me down before I even got that far. She's all about the job at the moment. That's why I had the brochure. Not because I thought you should do the class.'

‘Are you blushing? I don't think I've seen you blush over a girl since you were about sixteen. This Harper
has
got you in knots—Joan and I will have to see what we can do about that.'

‘NO WAY. You're not doing anything to wreck my chances with this woman. I can wreck them quite nicely on my own.'

Shelia grabbed the brochure again. ‘She
is
pretty. You two would have gorgeous babies. I can't remember how it works, would you have blue or brown-eyed babies do you think?'

‘Perfect example of why you and Joan shouldn't be allowed within twenty kilometres of Harper.'

‘You know I'm kidding.' But Shelia let out a big sigh. ‘I'd love to see you settle down with someone—be happy. You never seem to find the right
type
of girl. But Harper … oh I want to rush out and meet her this very minute. Let's google her again. I know there were more pictures on her website.'

‘I've seen them already. She's cute. But like I said, she told me she was too busy to go out with me.'

‘Which is totally different to not liking you. How could she resist my gorgeous boy?'

‘God, Mum. I'm not three years old.'

‘Exactly. You're thirty-one and the clock's ticking.'

Luke's smile was confident. ‘Men don't have to worry about ticking clocks, that's a chick thing.'

‘And I'm a “chick”. My grandmother clock is ticking. You owe me grandbabies. You will drive me to the class and we will come up with an excuse for you to stay for the whole session each day and Harper will get to know you.'

‘Like, you're a mental health patient who needs to be supervised around sharp objects?'

‘Ha ha. Though the health angle is a good one. Why don't we say I have a heart condition and I'm not allowed to drive? You have to drive me there and because it's so far from home it's easier for you to stay than to leave and drive back three hours later …'

‘You are such a schemer.' Luke clamped his lips together, swallowing his laughter. ‘It might work if I didn't have better things to do with my day than lurk around with my mother.'

‘For love, it's worth it. And because you're such a control freak you can oversee my learning.' Shelia winked at him as she stuffed the fabric samples and paint swatches willy-nilly into a plastic bag and thrust them back to Luke. ‘I can't wait.'

‘That plan's as transparent as this bag. If Harper sees through us we'll both look stupid. She's not the type who likes to be messed with.' That was for sure. She'd have his guts for garters first.

‘Happy to look stupid if it'll win my boy the girl of his dreams and open the door to the revolution.'

Luke scratched his head, frowning at his mother's enthusiasm. He could never deny his mother anything—hadn't been able to since his father's death—but attending Harper's class? That was pushing it. ‘Don't you dare mention
any
of this to Joan. She's even more obvious than you are when it comes to matchmaking.'

‘Of course darling. You can rely on me not to let the cat out of the bag.' Shelia's blue eyes twinkled with mischief.

Luke groaned. ‘Whose terrible idea was this?' His mother, subtle as a sledgehammer, would do more harm than good and Harper would run a mile.

But desperate times required desperate action. He couldn't think of anything else to do. Harper was all about work. This way he'd at least get to see her and have another crack at getting her to like him. Joan and Shelia were two perfectly legitimate clients, genuinely wanting to learn DIY skills.

As plans went it was flaky; but it was a plan.

And it was all he had right now.

‘Firsts' always made Harper nervous. First dates, first kisses and her first session with each new group of students. Today's class was particularly nerve-racking. In the last minute rush she'd spent more time publicising the course than she had preparing the teaching program.

From the brief enrolment information she'd received she could see her new students were another mixed bag. The class, advertised as painting and decorating, had attracted predominantly older women, inexperienced, and not really sure what they wanted to learn. Maybe they were at a loose end over the summer holidays? Maybe DIY had become trendy among the older set? Whatever the reason, Harper hoped it would go well. With her background in interior design, painting and decorating were her forte and she loved sharing her knowledge with women, both young and old.

She stood up the front of the class, reading over the enrolment list again. Two names blared out at her: Joan and Shelia Colton. Funny, ever since she'd met Luke Colton she seemed to think she saw him everywhere. Suddenly, tall, dark-haired guys were in her supermarket, her favourite café, walking past her door making her nose twitch and her heart beat a little faster. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help checking to see if it was Luke. And she couldn't explain the pricked balloon feeling when she realised it wasn't him. He was long gone.

It simply didn't make sense that the memory of him still made her pulse race like a formula one Ferrari, when
she'd
given
him
the flick.

Loud footsteps clacked up the corridor, spurring her to open the classroom door. Greeting the newcomers, she settled them at stools behind the workbenches. Polite small talk and shuffling bags filled the room while they waited for the last few women to clomp their way up the hall. Harper prepared to greet her final two students, eager to get things started.

What she wasn't prepared for was the sight of Luke Colton. She froze.
What the hell is Luke doing here?

That much testosterone in a room full of women did not go unnoticed. Every head swivelled to look at him. Several pairs of eyes lit up.

‘Lu—uke?' Harper said, her voice little more than a squeak. Had her constant thoughts of him conjured him to her? She cleared her throat, dragged her gaze to the two women standing before her. ‘You must be …' It had only been a millisecond since she'd seen their names on her list, but her mind had gone blank.

‘I'm Shelia and this is Joan. We're here for the DIY class,' the older looking of the two women said with a friendly smile. A smile just like Luke's.