Take My Breath Away by Ali Ryecart
Chapter Eight
PERRY
It’s early, barely light, but I creep downstairs to the kitchen as quietly as I can. I’ve had more sleep in the last day than I’ve had in weeks, but I’ve been awake for almost an hour and I’m desperate for a cup of coffee. The most basic instant will do, although I’m sure a man like James wouldn’t have any of that in the house.
I wonder if he’ll mind me helping myself like this. In fact, I wonder if he’ll regret his actions. Bringing me back here and assuming some kind of responsibility — although I’m not his responsibility at all — is a huge gesture. I’m glad of it, more glad than he could know, but I can’t rely on it for too long, and I’m determined to get myself sorted out as soon as possible. Because I can sort out my own life, and take responsibility for myself. I did it pre-Grant and I can do it post-Grant. If I make it my mantra, recite it like a prayer morning, noon, and night, I might even come to believe it.
There is instant coffee, it’s a small jar of something good, but there’s also an all-singing, all-dancing coffee machine and I know exactly how to work it because there’s the same model at work. I hadn’t noticed it yesterday, but I wasn’t in a fit enough state to notice very much at all.
It doesn’t take me long to get the thing going and I throw nervous glances towards the open kitchen door. I’m sure James wouldn’t mind, but it does feel a little strange to be tip toeing around his kitchen and making myself at home.
Pouring myself a cup, I stand by the doors leading out to the long back garden. The sun’s only just coming up, and a light mist hangs in the air, softening the summer sunrise.
It’s a lovely garden, mature and secluded, and although we’re in the middle of busy Highgate, no houses intrude on its privacy. It’s a world away from the flat I shared with Grant… I press my head against the cool window and my breath leaves a little circle of mist. I’ve got so much to do and think about, and honestly, it feels overwhelming.
“Oh God,” I whisper.
“Almost, but not quite. But I’m working towards it.”
I swing around, almost dropping my coffee. James is standing in the doorway.
He’s in running gear, the Lycra moulding itself to his flat stomach and strong thighs, and outlining the impressive bulge between his legs. His face is a little flushed, and his ash grey hair’s sweat soaked and plastered to his head. He’s fit and strong, and even hot and sweaty, he looks incredible. But it’s not so much his physical presence that makes my mouth water, it’s his confidence. It’s so well honed, it borders on arrogance. Maybe it comes with age and experience, or maybe it’s just because he’s James. Whatever it is, the whole silver fox thing’s as sexy as fuck.
My breath hitches, my mouth goes dry and my heart almost crashes through my ribcage as he strides towards me, full of purpose. He stops at the sink where he fills up a pint glass and glugs it back as I gaze, transfixed, at his Adam’s apple moving like a piston.
“That’s better.” He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth before he narrows his eyes and gives me his lopsided smile.
“I’m sorry, I hope you don’t mind?” I croak as I hold up my mug. “I just thought—”
“Of course not, I want you to make yourself at home. Did you sleep well?” he asks, as he leans against the edge of the sink.
I nod. “Whatever it was you gave me, I had the best night’s sleep in a long time.”
“Good. I stink to high heaven so I’m going to jump in the shower. You get the breakfast on, and I’ll be down in about twenty minutes.”
James doesn’t give me time to answer as he swings round on his heel and heads out of the kitchen. I stare after him for a moment, before I open the fridge and get to work.
* * *
“That was great, thank you.” James mops up the last of his egg before flopping back into his chair with a satisfied smile on his face.
A small thrill runs through me. He’s been doing everything for me since Friday night and if I can repay him, even if it’s just with cooking breakfast, then I’m happy for it.
“No problem, it’s the least I can do.” I clear my throat, ready for what I need to say next. “I’ve been thinking.”
That’s stretching it a little bit but one thing I do know, in all this mess, is that I need to at least try and present myself as being proactive and not the pathetic specimen he picked up in the café.
“It’ll take time to get myself sorted out, I know that, so that means I’m going to start looking for somewhere to live, from today. A room in a shared house will probably be the best, because I wouldn’t be tied into any long rental agreements.”
A room in a shared house, where you have a bit of shelf space in the fridge, and somebody steals your milk… God, I thought I’d left that behind when I stopped being a student. But being somewhere I can give short notice, somewhere cheap, or cheapish, not having ties to anything or anybody, is going to be important if the secret dream I’ve always harboured has any chance of becoming a reality. The ideal would be to crash with Alfie, but the truth is I have no idea when he’ll be back.
“Even a house share will mean putting down a hefty deposit,” James says, his voice measured. “Also, you need to buy yourself a whole new set of clothes. Very lovely though your suit is, I really do think you need a few more items in your wardrobe, and I don’t think my old sweats are fit for much beyond these four walls.”
I stare down at the hoodie and trackie bottoms I’ve put back on. They swamp me, and the cuffs are turned back. Clothes. How could I have forgotten? I need at least one more good suit, which will set me back. As for the rest it’ll have to be from somewhere cheap and cheerful. Fighting through the Primark hoards for the best in nylon doesn’t fill me with joy.
“I get paid in a couple of days time, so I can get a few things then. At least Grant won’t be able to get his hands on any of my salary this time.”
“Don’t you want to stay here?” James asks, as a tiny frown furrows between his eyes. His gaze is steady upon me, serious and almost a little disappointed, although I’m sure I’m imagining that bit.
I lick my lips. They’re suddenly dry and this is turning out to be harder than I thought it would be. I was expecting to see relief in his eyes, despite what he’s said about me staying. Because it’s what people do. They say things they don’t mean as they try to be nice. I’ve just smashed into his life, so why would he want me hanging around?
“No, it’s not that, it really isn’t. You’ve made me very welcome, but…” I struggle to find the words.
“But?”
James is still looking at me, his head tilted slightly to the side. There’s a stillness about him as though he’s waiting for me to make the next move. He’s giving me no choice but to make it.
“I’m in your house, which means I’m in your way. I don’t want to be that, not after everything you’ve done for me. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
“In my way? It’s a big house if you haven’t already noticed. You’re hardly going to be in my way. And besides you’re going to be at work all day, and so am I. Also, I’m quite often out late into the evening. In fact, I’m not here very much at all.” The corner of his mouth twitches in the smallest of smiles, barely noticeable. And something passes behind his eyes, giving me the feeling there’s more to what he’s just said than the bare words.
“But I still don’t understand why you would want me here?”
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them.
He leans forward, his gaze cool and steady and never leaving mine. It’s irresistible, like a magnet, and I can’t pull mine away even if I want to.
“Because at the moment you need all the help you can get, and I’m more than willing and able to give it to you.” His voice is low, almost a purr. His feline eyes, moss green and unreadable, fix on mine.
Seductive.
The word’s a gun shot in my head. I try to swallow, but my throat muscles have seized up.
His eyes narrow as a smile plays on his lips.
“Of course, I can’t force you to stay here, though I hope you will. Just think about it for a moment. You need somewhere safe and settled and that’s what I’m offering for as long as you need it. Don’t tie yourself up in knots about being in the way or cramping my style.”
Cramping his style? I can almost see the quotes around the words.
“You’ll be doing nothing of the sort. But it’s up to you. All I would say is think about it carefully before you make a decision, because rash decisions have a way of coming back to bite. Promise me you’ll do that?”
Rash decisions coming back to bite… I’d moved in with Grant just weeks after meeting him, and I’d not only got bitten, I’d got chewed up and spat out.
James is looking at me, waiting for my answer. Not pressing me, just waiting for the one and only answer I can, and want, to give.
“I… Yes. Thank you. But just for now, until I sort myself out.”
“Just for now,” he says, quoting my words back at me. “You want your independence back. I understand, I really do, but for now it’s settled?” He raises a brow and I nod. “Good.” He says the word with a hard finality, letting me know that for now the conversation’s over.
I set about making some more coffee as James fills the dishwasher.
“Your books, I put them out the way. I didn’t want them to get any more food splattered than they have already.” He nods to some shelves on the other side of the kitchen. My sugarcraft books, the ones I rescued from Grant’s. “They look very complicated. I had a look through them. I hope you don’t mind?”
“Yes, they are and, erm, no I don’t.”
I can feel the heat burning up my face. They’re a clue to that secret ambition of mine, but for now I don’t want to say anything. It feels too fragile and ill-formed and if I expose it to the light of day, and James’ assessing gaze, it might just dissolve to nothing.
James smiles, small and almost secretive, which makes me feel like he’s reading my mind. And perhaps he is, because he doesn’t ask why I have two very big, and very well used, books on advanced sugarcrafting.
