Junkyard Heart (Porthkennack Book 7)
Page 11
I did have shit to do. Working for myself was a train I could never get off, but then, Kim knew that better than anyone, and the promise of an evening with him was likely all the motivation I needed to get my arse in gear anytime before midnight. “I can probably get there around eight. That cool?”
“Aye. If I’m late, let yourself in. I never lock up.”
The Londoner in me shuddered, but my parents hadn’t seen their house keys in years, and it was the Porthkennack way to put their trust in the morals of the local criminals. Besides, Kim’s lax security wasn’t the point. Last night had been magical, but in all the heady distraction of topping Kim, I’d neglected to say the one thing he’d likely needed to hear the most. “Kim, I’m sorry.”
He frowned. “What for?”
“For making you feel like shit. I never meant to. It was just, hard, you know? I’d kind of set myself up to be a terminal bachelor, and then I met you, and my brain exploded—”
Kim silenced me with a kiss. “Jas, it’s fine. I get it, I really do. You aren’t the only one who weren’t set up for something like this.”
There was so much more to say, and I wanted to throw myself at his feet, beg his forgiveness for ever making him feel like he wasn’t good enough for the pound-shop commitment I’d offered him so far, but a firmness in his gentle smile silenced me. He clearly didn’t want to hear it.
With a rueful sigh, I kissed his cheek, lingering over his lightly stubbled jaw, breathing in the clean, woody scent that was uniquely him. The booze I’d drunk the night before was long gone, but I still felt drunk . . . drunk on life, on sex, on him. Only the knowledge that the sooner I left him, the sooner I’d see him again, drove me to haul myself out of the ridiculous pink car.
I watched him disappear into the distance, my chest warmly tight, and the memory of sinking my cock into him abruptly eclipsing everything else that had happened. God. The craving to just be in his company was all-consuming, but the desire to fuck him again was something else—something that I could lose a whole day to if I didn’t get moving. Was it truly so hard to tear myself away from my dirty daydreams?
Apparently so, but I did it anyway. A bucket of coffee called my name, and I spent the rest of the day prepping for my next job and doing the mountain of admin I’d been avoiding. I was on my way for a much-needed shower when I remembered Red’s envelope, stuffed and crumpled into the back pocket of my jeans.
Jeans that I’d left carelessly on my bedroom floor.
Naked, I padded back to retrieve them, and the envelope slipped free as I picked them up. I slung them onto my bed, caught the envelope before it hit the floor, and turned it over in my hands. It smelled of Red—of musk and sunshine—and I tore it open with a pounding heart.
Jas,
I’m going to try and say what I meant to say the first time we spoke, though to be honest, I feel like we met a long time ago . . . perhaps we did, but I digress.
Kim means the world to me. For many years he was my world. I lived for him, and him for me. But life went on around us, and things changed. We changed.
Do you believe in the stars, Jas? Because I do, and I saw them align when you and Kim came together at that gig. Like you need him as much as I know he’s always needed you.
Don’t let the past, or even the present, cloud your destiny. Let yourself be happy.
And take care of my boy. You both deserve it. I won’t ever be a stranger, but you probably won’t see me for a while, and that’s for the best.
I love you both,
Lena xox
Wow. I folded the letter with exaggerated care and tucked it into the envelope. Red’s words had been much as I’d imagined they would be, but I was sorely unprepared for the emotion ripping through my soul.
I sank onto the edge of my bed and sat on my shaking hands. Kim’s bond with Red was nothing new, but the faith she’d placed in me by entrusting me with her most precious thing made my heart beat so fast I felt sick. Because Kim was fast becoming my most precious thing too, and I couldn’t shake the sensation that I didn’t quite deserve him.
The shadow of self-doubt niggled at me well into the evening, to the point where I even shut down my computer and cleaned the flat—something I never did unless Laura was coming round. By seven o’clock, the place was spotless, a fact I was equally proud and disturbed by, though I’d run out of time to brood on it.
I set off for the farm, taking advantage of one of autumn’s rare warm nights, and walked through town, pausing to shoot the odd long exposure down the beach, chasing the setting sun. My luck ran out as I turned in land, though, and it began to rain. The nice kind of rain first, pleasant and refreshing, but then big fat drops fell from the sky and soaked me to the skin.
Laura rushed out to meet me when she spied me traipsing up the mud-slicked drive. “You should’ve called. Your brothers could’ve driven the car into town.”
It hadn’t occurred to me to ask, but I was grateful for the towel and cup of tea Laura thrust into my hands once she’d got me inside. “How’s the barn coming along?”
“Much the same as it was yesterday,” Laura said dryly. “Though we had a visitor this afternoon. Honestly, I don’t know how Kim does it. He must work day and night.”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
Laura sighed. “Everyone we know, I suppose. I think your dad will die with a spade in his hand.”
It wasn’t hard to imagine. Belly Acre Farm was my father’s lifework, and I’d been raised to believe that his—and Laura’s—work ethic was how life should be. Shame my own had consumed my life so much of late I’d actually been rather lonely, until I met Kim.
The heat in my cheeks caught Laura’s eye almost before I’d sensed it myself. She pinched me with a smirk that wouldn’t have looked out of place on Gaz. “Do I take it that you’re not here for your dinner?”
Despite the lingering disquiet in my veins, I couldn’t help but grin back at her. “Nah. I’m just here for the car.”
“Hot date?”
“I hope so, but I’m okay with anything warm.”
Laura beamed and opened the fridge. She pulled out a giant Tupperware box and pushed it against my chest. “Casserole, in case you don’t get round to cooking.”
“Love you, Ma.”
I took the Tupperware and escaped to my car, still blushing like a motherfucker, though I couldn’t deny that Laura’s obvious glee had made me feel a hundred times better. She’d always been my biggest champion, more so than my real mother, but she’d never held back from telling me when shit was a bad idea.
The drive to the commune took barely ten minutes, a far cry from my perilous bike ride the night before. I drifted through the orchard, buzzing at the prospect of seeing Kim. A few people were lingering outside their trailers, cooking over open fires now the rain had eased. Some waved, some nodded and smiled. Most paid me no heed, like Kim had nighttime visitors all the time. Perhaps he did.
Stop it.
I silenced the devil on my shoulder, a leftover gremlin that Rich had so kindly left behind. I believed in Kim and me with every day that passed, and I’d be fucked if I’d wreck it with the crazed paranoia I’d run all the way to Porthkennack to escape. Red was right: Kim deserved better than that—we both did.
Shame Kim wasn’t home. My knock went unanswered, and after a brief wait, I opened the trailer door to empty space and silence.
Disappointment surged through me, my craving for Kim at an all-time high, but there was little I could do but stick Laura’s Tupperware in his tiny fridge and search for some entertainment while I waited for him. I ended up in the back room, camera in hand, lanterns lit. It truly was a beautiful space, and I entertained myself by taking macro shots of the bristles of Kim’s used paintbrushes.
And that was exactly how he found me a few hours later. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea it was so late, or I’d have called.”
In truth, I’d lost track of time too, and I’d given up checking my phone when it had bec
ome obvious that it wasn’t going to ring. “Don’t worry about it. I found something to do.”
“So I see.” Kim dropped his bag on the floor and ventured closer to peer over my shoulder. “Is that lens one of the close-up whatsits?”
“A macro? Yeah. Wanna see?”
“Damn right.”
I passed Kim the camera and tried not to get a boner over how good my two favourite things looked together. “What do you think?”
Kim lowered the camera and blinked. “That’s some crazy shit. It looks like tie-dyed hay.”
“Cool, eh?”
“As cool as you are.”
I snorted. “Not very, then. Gaz has been calling me a bloody anorak my whole life.”
“Gaz is a dick.”
“There is that.” I reclaimed my camera, turned it off, and set it safely aside. “A lovable one, though. Both my brothers are. Can’t stand them, but I’d never be without the daft twats.”
“I have mates like that.”
“Makes me glad to be a loner. How was your day?”
“Long.” Kim ran a hand through his hair with a weary sigh. “Inking and sanding . . . think I’ll be doing both in my sleep tonight.”
“Can we do it together?”
Kim’s face brightened considerably. “You’re staying?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Oh, I’m going to have you, Jas. Make no mistake about that.”
And have me he did. It was gone midnight by the time we peeled ourselves from the floor and dove into Laura’s casserole. “Are you going to the autumn fair next week?”
Kim glanced up from slicing the best-looking sourdough loaf I’d ever seen outside London. “I was supposed to be, but I don’t think I’ll make it now.”
“Why not?”
“I need every minute to make the barn opening.”
Guilt burned a path to my gut. I set my fork down. “Have we asked too much of you? It won’t be the end of the world if everything’s not entirely ready on the day. No one will have died.”
“Except me, of embarrassment. I made your dad a promise, Jas. Besides, he’s paying me a lot of money to get it right. I can’t let him down.”
I hadn’t paid much attention to how much anything in the barn was costing, least of all the furniture, because I knew my dad well enough to know he’d have paid Kim a fair price for his work. But in the same vein, my father was so laid-back that Laura often joked that he waltzed through life horizontal. Swinging jokes aside, it was hard to imagine that he’d get on Kim’s case about deadlines. Who cared if a few chairs turned up a few days late?
Kim cared, apparently . . . enough to push his food away and tug at his scruffy hair. “I’m on track, but the thought of falling behind keeps me up at night.”
“It shouldn’t.” I cupped his chin and gently forced him to look at me, taking in the suddenly obvious lines of fatigue on his face. “Trust me, my dad would rather cancel the whole thing than know you were working yourself into the ground.”
Kim’s scepticism was clear, and there was little I could do to ease the stress from him except coax him into finishing his dinner.
After, I washed up while he dried. “I’m taking a day off tomorrow,” I said. “Burnout, you know?”
Kim dropped cutlery into a drawer. “I thought we were done with that conversation?”
There was no malice in his tone, but I studied him anyway. “I’m talking about me. I’ve worked every day for weeks, and I’ll chuck my computer out the window if I don’t stop soon.”
“At least you can stop.”
“Only because I make myself, because I know the consequences if I don’t.”
“Yeah? Sent your PC flying before, have you?”
“It was a Mac, but yes. I’ve had a few expensive temper tantrums.”
Kim grinned, which was a relief, though part of me wanted to shake him into taking me seriously. “I can see that, actually. You’ve got a wild streak in you.”
The wildest side Kim had seen of me was with my trousers down, but I let him have that one, especially when I remembered that he’d seen what I’d done to my Hoxton flat. I’d let him have anything to see him smile. “Anyway, I know you’re busy, but do you want to do something? Lunch? A walk? A drive? There’s some shots on the moors I want to get now the weather’s gone all gloomy again.”
“Shots? Thought you were taking a day off?”
“I am.”
“Don’t sound like it.”
I poked my tongue out and flicked water at him. Soapy drops hit his face and clung to his jaw.
“Oh yeah?” He grabbed my wrists and spun me round, backing me fiercely against the sink, his face, his lips, barely an inch from mine. “Don’t tease me with that tongue. Drives me fucking mad, no matter how knackered I am.”
A shiver ran through me. I licked my lips, absorbing Kim’s low growl. “I won’t have to tease you if you give me a straight answer. Want to do something tomorrow, or not?”
“Man, I’d love to spend the day with you, doing all the shit you just said, and more, but I gotta work, Jas. I told you; I can’t stop.”
I can’t stop. Everything about those three words was so fucking unhealthy, but the sense of unease that had been so strong only moments ago was being fast eclipsed by Kim’s hips grinding against mine. In the haze of his lips on my neck and a growing boner, I struggled to blurt out a response before the power of speech deserted me. “Fuck it. I’ll come to work with you. Now, are you going to show me your bed, or what?”
The next day found me trailing Kim around his workshop, shoving my camera in his face, and asking him a million questions he clearly didn’t have time to answer. Though, to be fair, he put up with me with an easy smile.
Midmorning, I brought him some tea. “Am I getting in the way? You can say if I am; I won’t be offended.”
“You’re fine.” Kim barely glanced up from his work. “Don’t think anyone round here is going to complain about having a tea fella in for the day.”
That, I could believe, because Kim wasn’t the only one who’d been hard at work since he’d opened the workshop at arse-o’clock that morning, and his three colleagues had seemed extraordinarily grateful for the chipped mugs of builder’s brew I’d passed their way. “Still, not helping much, am I?”
“I don’t need you to help. Your company is keeping me sane.”
I nodded slowly. Kim’s mood was becoming increasingly tough to gauge, but it was obvious that he enjoyed his work, even if he did have far too much of it. I did feel more than a little guilty for my part in his fatigue, though. We’d gone to bed at a touch before midnight, but it had been gone two before we’d found sleep.
Like he’d heard my thoughts revisit those heady few hours spent in his bed, Kim looked up and met my eye with a grin that lightened the fevered atmosphere of the workshop. His smile was like a warm breeze. I love him.
Stop it.
But I do.
Around midday, I retreated to make the lunch run. The workshop was due a wood delivery to finish the final batch of chairs for the barn, and my car was in the way.
I drove to the seafront and went to the sandwich shop beside Blood Rush. My sleep-deprived body craved a pasty, but I didn’t have the patience for the queues. Instead I ordered enough doorstep chicken sandwiches for a small army and stepped outside for some air while they were made.
Curiosity drew me to the studio’s window. They’d changed the photographs, swapping out the vintage images for brighter, bolder shots of the resident artists: Brix, Kim, Calum, Lee, and Jory. Each artist clearly had their own style, but there was a harmony running through the images that drew them all together. I’d always found tattooists fascinating, and this eclectic bunch more than most—
“Can I help you?”
I turned to face the petite woman who’d emerged from the studio. It took me a moment to place her as the sole female artist in Blood Rush’s window of fame. Lee, apparently. “Brix around?”
“I’m Jas, if that helps.”
“Not really. I knew that already.”
Okay. I turned my attention back to the window. “Which work is yours?”
I waited for Lee to point to the dark geometric designs that seemed to suit her intensity. Her jerked nod at the delicate watercolour pieces caught me off guard, but what the fuck did I know? “They’re gorgeous,” I said. “I feel like I’ve seen that one before.”
Lee followed my finger to the seahorse design at the back of the display. “You probably have if you’ve been hanging around Kim’s place. Brix bullied me into painting it a few months ago, and it’s on Kim’s bathroom door.”
Of course it was. I’d seen it this morning when I’d stumbled into the shower, but Lee was gone before the blush reached my cheeks, and the girl from the sandwich shop called me inside a moment later.
I drove back to the workshop with my giant bag of sandwiches, hoping that my bounty would help me persuade Kim to take a break before I left him to it for the rest of the day. It would be a tough ask, but the signs of burnout in him were ominous, and there were certain times that my life would’ve been a whole lot easier if some fucker had just brought me a sandwich.
But when I pulled up outside the workshop, it quickly became clear that no picnic was going to fix Kim’s day. I got out of my car and approached where he was standing forlornly by a huge pile of what smelt like rotten wood. “What the fuck?”
He sighed. “You can say that again. What a crock of arse.”
I picked up a damp plank of wood. It was soft, like a stale biscuit. “What happened?”
“I get wood from a social project over near Dartmoor Prison. They get the lags to collect it and bag it up, then I buy it, and the funds go to art projects or some shit. They’re usually really good, but this lot must’ve got rained on. No good for nothing now.”
“You can’t send it back?”