His face split in a wide grin. ‘I always do.’
Oh, yes...
She caught Patsy’s eye and hoped she hadn’t said that out loud. Judging by the eye-roll, she didn’t need to. ‘Have you sold the house yet?’ she asked.
‘No, but I’m working on it.’
‘If there’s anything I can do—’ she produced a business card ‘—give me a call.’
‘I can’t afford help,’ she said. ‘That’s why I’m here. I’ve offered my family a week in the country in return for their help cleaning the place up.’
‘Well, now, I can’t afford to take my boy away this half-term. If you need more hands, I’ll work for board and country air.’
‘Well, thanks. The more the merrier.’
‘Clear it with Darius and give me a ring,’ she said, glancing at her watch. ‘See you later.’
Tash pressed herself against the wall as the truck started up and Darius joined her as it slowly pulled away, the crated horse lashed down in the back. They watched it pull out into the main road and disappear, then he looked down at her.
‘You look like ice cream. I’d kiss you,’ he said, ‘but I stink.’
‘It’s a good stink.’ Earthy clay, freshly sawn pine mingled with the sharp scent of honest sweat and, lifting a hand to his face, she rubbed her palm against his beard. ‘And I want to try this.’
He lifted her hand, touched it to his lips. ‘That’s all I’ve got,’ he said, tucking her arm around his waist and, with his arm around her shoulder, headed up the street. ‘I haven’t been to bed since I got out of yours.’
She stopped. ‘You took time out to take me to Hadley Chase when you were that pushed?’
‘Don’t...’ He touched the space between her brows. ‘Don’t frown. I was already struggling. The house, a whole lot of mess being dragged up from the past... You fired me up.’ He unlocked the door to a small mews cottage at the end of the street. ‘How do you feel about being my muse?’
His muse? For just a moment the image of herself as his inspiration sparkled in her imagination. She forced herself back to earth. ‘It sounds a bit Pre-Raphaelite to me. I’m getting images of scantily dressed women lounging around a cold and draughty studio while louche men discuss their vision. I think I’ll pass.’
‘I didn’t say becoming my muse, I said being her.’
‘I don’t get a choice?’
‘Neither of us do, apparently.’
‘Oh... Well, I’m glad to have helped,’ she said, leaning against him briefly. ‘Have you eaten?’
‘Patsy kept me fuelled up. Have you been trying to get hold of me?’ he asked, taking a phone out of his back pocket. ‘The battery on this is flatter than a pancake.’
‘I did leave a message, but I thought if you were working you wouldn’t pick it up.’
‘It’s that important?’
‘I haven’t sold the house,’ she said quickly, ‘but it was too important to leave to chance.’