He gave me a grunt of disapproval, then wheezed as he trundled away towards the lounge, his chubby bottom swaying like he was doing the samba. After cleaning up the kitchen, I put the kettle on. I needed more coffee and a bacon sandwich to soak up some of last night's alcohol. I leaned over the sink to look out of the kitchen window and saw Heath bending over as he finished shaping the bottom of my holly bush. How had I not seen him in the village before? Especially if he did the gardening next door. I mean, Miller's bottom would have taken gold medal in the sexy arse Olympics, but Heath's definitely ranked of all of the male bottoms I'd ogled. Which I did more times than was probably healthy. I'd say a definite bronze medal. He didn't have quite as much curve as my former gold medallist, Alec Wright, who'd now slipped to silver medal position.
I sighed as I thought of Alec. I'd admired him from afar for years when I'd been in young farmers', but he was five years older than me and had gone away to university, then moved to London, and finally relocated to New York by the time I came of dating age. He'd settled back near Dilbury and I still saw him now and then, usually on a Thursday night in The Cock & Bull, but he only had eyes for his great love. It was high time I found my own. I opened the kitchen window.
'Want a cup of tea?' I called. Heath straightened up and turned to look for me, smiling when he saw me framed by the window.
'I'd prefer a coffee, if that's ok? Black, no sugar.'
'Of course it is. I'm making a bacon sandwich if you want one, too,' I offered.
'I'd love one if you don't mind.'
'Crispy?'
'Is there any other way to eat bacon?' he scoffed, running the back of his hand over his forehead, where a slight sheen of perspiration was forming as the sun moved higher in the sky.
'Exactly!' I nodded. How people could eat flaccid bacon, with the fat still raw and chewy, was beyond me. That was one of my secret tests for a man, after meeting the bottom-approval criteria. Did he like crispy bacon? Maybe I ought to check Heath out against my other criteria. 'I'm thinking we'd better head to the bedroom next, before you get all hot, sweaty, and dirty out there.'
'I have been known to get hot, sweaty, and dirty in the bedroom too, you know,' he chuckled. Humorous. Tick. Another item off my list.
'Do you flirt with all of your customers?' I called.
'Only the pretty ones who offer me bacon sandwiches,' he replied with a wink. Tick, tick. What girl didn't love a good wink from an attractive guy? Hmmm, maybe I should forget about Miller, who lived thousands of miles away. Heath hadn't knocked the air out of my lungs like Miller had when I'd first seen him, but I was beginning to really like him.
I made our drinks and smiled shyly when his fingers brushed mine as I handed his over, then I returned to the kitchen to busy myself with breakfast. I berated myself for running through my remaining criteria. On the one hand, it was so shallow to have a list when it came to a potential mate, but on the other, who didn't have a preconceived idea of their ideal match? You had to find them attractive, and there had to be key personality traits that told you if you were likely to be compatible. It was just odd that I hadn't met anyone who even came close in the last eighteen months, and suddenly, in the space of two weeks, I'd met two.
As breakfast was ready so quickly, Heath didn't have a chance to go and sort my shelving unit first. He'd wolfed down his sandwich and was lying on his back on the floor, his head and shoulders in my cupboard under the sink, before I'd had a chance to start on the second half of mine. Eating that portion took a lot longer as I sat staring at his toned body while he worked to fix my leak. I blushed as he suddenly slid out and caught me staring at him, and I started choking on some of my sandwich.
'Done. You just had a loose connection on the pipework, so I tightened it for you.'
'Great, thanks,' I spluttered, banging my chest as I tried to catch my breath. He shot to his feet and grabbed a glass off the long shelving unit, which displayed all my mugs and glasses, then poured me some water and handed it to me to gulp down as he patted my back.
'Ok?' he eventually asked. I nodded and gave him a grateful smile. 'Let's get these shelves done in your bedroom, then I can sort the door and do your hedge. I'll make some notes on what needs doing in the back garden and we can agree on a time for me to come back and do that, then fix a regular schedule.'
I was sitting with my feet up, MacBook on my knees as I ran through Georgie's accounts, when the sound of the noisy hedge trimmer starting up made me jump, breaking the usual tranquillity of my countryside home. I pushed my lap tray to the side and went to look out of the lounge window.
'Holy hotness, bush trimmer,' I murmured. He'd stripped off his top and was hard at work, bare-chested. I quickly tapped out a message to Georgie.
Get yourself over here ASAP. Take the field footpath and come in the back way, through the lounge patio doors x
What's up? I'm just finishing off Portia the poodle's blow-dry! she replied.
Well, if doing that is more interesting than a half-naked man in my front garden, one who could audition for The Chippendales, then I guess I'll just have to enjoy the view all on my own!
'What do you think, Chubbers?' I asked, as I shoved my phone back in my pocket and went to give him a head scratch after he snorted himself awake. I got the usual blank, uninterested expression I always got, unless food was involved. 'Fat lot of use you are,' I huffed, then moved back to the window to enjoy the view. Phew, this was one vista I could get used to. I began to curse myself for not making more of an effort when I hastily dressed in a pair of leggings and a loose-fit t-shirt this morning, desperate to get rid of my childish pyjamas.
'Ok, ok, I made it, and Portia's not happy to be abandoned and put in a cage mid-pamper,' came Georgie's voice, panting hard behind me as she burst through the open doors. 'Please tell me I didn't just race around here for David Jones with his shirt off?'
'Oh, I think you'll find it worth the journey,' I confirmed without breaking my gaze to turn and look at her.
'Oh, hello!' she uttered as she came to stand next to me. 'It's like we're in the middle of a Diet Coke commercial. Who's that??!!'
'My new gardener, Heath. And he's been flirting with me.'
'Please tell me you flirted back, because if you didn't, I could be tempted.'
'Sort of, but you know my flirting skills are pretty non-existent.'
'Is he single?' she asked, hip-bumping me over so she could get a better view.
'Hey, my view and my gardener,' I protested as I jostled her back over.
'You invited me, so don't be a mean hostess,' she countered, giving me a shove.
'Oi!' I cried as she braced herself at my window, palms planted firmly on the windowsill, legs straight and strong. I grabbed her from behind and started tickling her ribs, where I knew she was sensitive.
'You've had him all morning,' she shrieked as we tussled for pole position. 'Give me a minute to enjoy it. Oh no, he's looking over at us staring at him,' she giggled, dropping like a stone to hide under the window and dragging me down with her.
'Way to embarrass me,' I moaned as I crouched down next to her, both of us palming the wall.
'So what's the deal? Is he single? Are you going to forget about this whole Miller thing and go on a date with this hottie?'
'I haven't asked him. It's not exactly the sort of question you can ease into casual conversation with someone you just met.'
'Not the sort of question the old Abbie would ask. But after our discussion last night, where you were going to forget all about the delectable Mr. Davis and find someone closer to home, the new Abbie should be getting right in there.'
'You don't go from shy girl to shameless flirt overnight, Georgie Basset. It takes time.'
'It's not like I'm suggesting you turn into the village slut, particularly as that position's already taken by Rowena the barmaid, but what's the harm in asking if he's seeing anyone, seeing if he fancies a drink one night?' she asked.
'Well, David told me he is, but what if he's some kind of gardening lothario, with a woman at every job? I don't want to look desperate. I mean, he must get women throwing themselves at him.'
'I can see why,' Georgie nodded. 'How are my accounts looking? Can I afford a gardener?'
'Hey, I saw him first, go get your own,' I scowled, reaching up to grip the windowsill with my fingers and slowly pulling myself up to peek over the sill to see what he was doing. Georgie popped up beside me.
'Where did he go?' she pouted, as we craned our heads left and right, only to find he was nowhere to be seen. 'Me want more.'
'Maybe he needed a bigger tool,' I suggested, waggling my eyebrows at her. 'I did have a big bush.'
'I reckon he's already got an exceptionally big tool,' Georgie giggled, bumping my shoulder. 'He looks the type.' We both froze as we heard a polite cough from behind us.
'Please tell me he hasn't come around the back and has been standing there, watching us watching him, and is now listening to us talking about him,' I whispered, too embarrassed to stand up and turn around.
'You look,' Georgie whispered back.
'No, you look,' I pleaded, wanting the earth to swallow me whole.
'What happened to "I saw him first, go get your own?"' she protested under her breath.
'Are you both ok?' came Heath's voice from behind us.
'Damn,' I muttered, screwing up my face as Georgie broke into a fit of the giggles next to me and dropped her forehead to the windowsill. 'Ermmm, yes, just doing a … woodworm check. You know old cottages, all kinds of problems.'