It Started With A Tweet(75)

He sits down on a leather couch in Jack’s office and pats a spot next to him for me to sit on. Reluctantly, I sit down next to him and as I do, I get a whiff of his aftershave which makes me want to lean over and nuzzle his neck. I think being finally clean has heightened my sense of smell, as I’m not just smelling myself anymore.

‘So tell me more about yourself.’

‘Um, well, you know the main bits. I got fired, I’m living with my sister –’

‘Yes, yes, but who is Daisy?’

‘Well,’ I say, getting a sense of déjà vu about the date with Dickhead Dominic. ‘I like to go hiking.’ I’ve never done as much off-road walking as I have in the past two weeks. Surely that has to count for something.

‘I like to ’ike too. You must join me on a walk round ’ere. It would make the scenery even more beautiful.’

I almost close my eyes to appreciate his sing-song voice. It’s funny as I’ve been around Alexis a lot over the past few weeks, but this is the first time I’ve been alone with him where his attention is solely focused on me. And did I mention he smells really good?

What was it Erica was saying about a holiday romance? And what with Jack and Jenny, then perhaps I’ve been looking in the wrong direction. Especially now we’ve got doors on our bedrooms – that’s a real game changer.

‘Stop it,’ I say, playfully giggling and hitting his arm.

‘It is true. You are the ’ighlight of the area.’

I’m about to protest, but my ego could do with a bit of a boost.

I’m trying to think of a witty reply, better than my goofy thanks, when Alexis leans over to me as if he’s going to kiss me. For a second I’m going to let him, before the phone rings, making us jump.

I laugh awkwardly as we wait for it to finish ringing, and the answerphone clicks in.

‘Me again,’ rings out Jenny’s voice. ‘Just realised it’s the dance on Friday – promise me I’ll see you before then. Ring me ASAP.’

‘Oh shit,’ I say out loud. Now Jack’s going to know that someone deleted an earlier message. I jump off the couch and go over to it.

‘What are you doing?’ asks Alexis coming over with me.

‘Oh nothing, just making sure that it’s working,’ I say, leaning over it, and I’m about to hit the delete key when he grabs my hand and spins me round.

‘Where were we?’ he says, a smile on his face that could melt my heart and drop my knickers in an instant. Only I have to be strong and delete that message, but every time I turn towards the phone, Alexis spins me round a little more.

In the end, I stop. I can always sneak back later to get rid of it.

‘I’ve got to get back to the farm,’ I say to Alexis, who seems to have cheered up no end. ‘I’ll see you at home later.’

I drop his hands and run out of the room quickly before he can protest. Right now, I need to get away from Alexis and the Lynx effect before I do something silly.





Chapter Twenty-Three

Time since last Internet usage: 2 weeks, 4 days, 19 hours, 48 minutes and 5 seconds

After yesterday’s near kiss, I’m not wildly ecstatic about spending the morning painting the lounge with Alexis, but the walls aren’t going to paint themselves. At least it’s a big room, and hopefully the paint fumes will drown out his aftershave. I’ve realised that being down in the dumps about my lack of career prospects is not going to get any better by kissing the handsome Frenchman. He’s not a frog, after all, who’s going to magically turn into a prince and solve all my problems.

‘You ready to commence?’ says Alexis with a smile. He climbs down a ladder, having masking taped the edges of the newly installed windows.

He goes over to the industrial tin of white paint that we’re using to coat most of the farmhouse walls with, and prises off the lid. His arm muscles flex as he does so, and I try not to look. I keep telling myself it would be a bad idea, as how awkward would it be living and working in this small house if we hooked up?

‘So, shall I do this one?’ I say, picking the wall with the doorframe that leads to the kitchen, as it looks like the one that requires the least amount of attention to detail.

‘OK. I start ’ere,’ he says, pointing to a section right next to where I’m going to be working. So much for me keeping my distance. He pours the paint into the roller tray for me before doing the same for himself.

There’s something very satisfying about painting on a virgin, plastered wall. I roll on a few lines of white and, unlike the stripping, what I’ve done is immediately visible.

Thanks to yesterday, there’s a slight tension in the air and I can’t work out if it’s frisson or awkwardness. I just wish Rosie were working with us with her endless chatter.

‘So, do you like it up here?’ I ask, trying to fill the void of silence.

‘Up the ladder?’

‘Up here, in the Lake District, this part of England,’ I say, remembering that I have to be more specific to ease the translation.

‘It is a beautiful part of the world. Everyone is very friendly. If you wake early tomorrow, you come with me for a walk.’

‘Perhaps I will.’

We go back to our painting and I wonder if I’ll wake up alert enough to go with him, as for some reason the Cumbrian air keeps me in a deep sleep.