Loud eyes. Contorting face. Some kind of horror...
Her heart lurched. ‘What?’
His hand shot out, stretching into the void between them. ‘Don’t move—’
But she couldn’t not move because her back foot was already descending, going down, down into...
Oh, God!
Nothing. Air instead of floor. And then everything was tilting, rushing in, out, spinning past, ceiling, plaster, her own hands clawing at frantic air and then somehow, somehow, Will was there, seizing her elbows, yanking her hard against him as he launched himself backwards, dragging her clear.
Cripes! He was breathing hard, panting warm gusts into her hair. ‘Are you okay?’
Was she? She was shaking all over. Vibrating. She could feel her heart banging against her ribs, banging against his chest, but banging was beating, and beating was good. Beating meant she was alive. Alive, and in his arms—his, of all people’s—being held tight, so tight and close that she could smell the warm, lingering trace of soap or shower gel, or maybe it was cologne. Whatever!
Why was she even noticing that? The scent of him, the way he was just the right height. For what? Why, when her head was still reeling, was it running off on stupid tangents, coming up with insane ideas, such as how good it would feel to snuggle in closer and stay there, just breathing, feeling close and warm, feeling safe, feeling—
‘Quinn...?’ He straightened suddenly, leaning back to look at her. ‘Are you okay?’
Concern in his eyes, kindness, turning the air soft, filling it with some sweet, tugging charge.
She nodded. ‘Yes. Thanks to you.’
He shook his head minutely, as if he didn’t want to hear it, but why wouldn’t he want to? He’d saved her from an almighty tumble. Her stomach dived. Or something worse.
She checked in, taking inventory. No hat, no phone. Fallen, dropped—lost. Without her even noticing. A blind second...a broken link. A gap in her memory. And then the world was trying to tilt, or maybe it was her head reeling again. She forced herself to breathe, reconnect with his gaze.
‘Will, what happened?’
His eyes held hers for a beat, then his features set hard. ‘Oh, nothing much. Just a minor, complete absence of floor.’
She blinked. ‘What?’
But before he could answer she was moving, twisting out of his arms, turning to look back along the corridor. For a long second, she was silent, taking in the sight he almost hadn’t seen himself, wouldn’t have seen at all if he’d been remotely interested in the dilapidated ceiling. A hole. Four floorboards wide, its edges rotted and crumbling.
‘Oh, my God.’ Her body seemed to deflate and then she was turning round again, her voice close to a whisper. ‘You’re right.’ Her eyes flickered, taking a moment to settle on his. ‘Complete absence...’
The state of her... Ashen-faced. Shock beating behind her lovely eyes. His heart kicked. Why the hell hadn’t this wretched building been checked for safety before their visit? All very well dishing out safety helmets—which, by the way, seemed to come off far too easily—but what about the fricking floorboards, actual holes that people—Quinn—could fall through? If he hadn’t been here...
His heart kicked again, nailing him in the stomach this time. If he hadn’t been here, spreading his gloom about, she would never have been walking backwards in the first place, trying to enthuse him, get him to see the good. He felt his insides shrivelling, his mouth drying to dust. This was all his fault.
‘Thank you, Will...’ Her hand was on his arm, squeezing gently, warmth in her gaze, pouring out gratitude he didn’t deserve. ‘If you hadn’t been here...’
‘Don’t.’ He swallowed hard, removing her hand as gently as he could manage. ‘If I hadn’t been here, you wouldn’t have been anywhere near that hole.’
She let out an incredulous breath. ‘Hang on a minute.’ Her eyes were striking up, pinning him. ‘You’re not blaming yourself for this, are you?’
‘Who else? If you hadn’t been trying to get me onside—’
‘I’d have still walked along here, eyes on the ceiling, taking photos...’ She was shaking her head at him, frustration brimming. ‘It’s what I do, Will. All the time. I get distracted, caught up in what I’m doing.’ Her lips pressed together, tight with impatience. ‘If you knew me at all then you would know that about me, know that I’m not just saying it. This time it was the staircase, the stairwell. I was walking up, taking pictures—thinking about the space, what I could do—and, before I knew it, I was on this floor and then you came...’ She shrugged, sighed. ‘But if you hadn’t I’d have carried on, blazing my own ill-advised trail.’
He felt his heart cramping. Why was she doing this, trying to make him feel better? She owed him nothing. Especially after the unforgivable way he’d behaved towards her at Dad’s funeral. And feeling guilty about it straight afterwards, still feeling guilty, didn’t make him a good person.
But she was good through and through. Oh, he didn’t know her, no, but he could feel her, the sweetness in her, the warmth. He’d always been able to feel it. It was why he’d tried to reach out to her when she’d first arrived at the house, because he could see what she was, couldn’t bear that she was hurting and alone. Even Dad had succumbed, hadn’t he? Let Quinn run through him like a hot knife through butter, bringing out his hidden sides. Dad, who hadn’t been given to warmth, letting his hair down, smiling. Dad who’d made hard work of everything except, ironically, work itself.
Making hard work of things. As he did. Was doing right now. Whoa! Was he turning into Dad? Resistant. Armoured. Or was he there already, stiffly cast in the old man’s mould? No more the open-hearted eighteen-year-old he’d once been but thirty-one and calcified.
He touched his face. Hadn’t he felt these muscles rebelling just minutes ago when she’d made him smile? Jaw cracking, pain blooming. The price of a smile. The price of being Will Thacker. Oh, he might have been sticking to the script he’d written for himself, to make nice with Quinn for the sake of the project so she would roll things along quickly, but fact was, deep down, he was still fighting it tooth and nail, wasn’t he? Setting his face against it so hard that she was having to sing for her supper, work to drag a shred of interest out of him, and that wasn’t fair, wasn’t right. His heart pulsed. See how it had nearly ended.
He lowered his hand, drew her back into focus. He had to do better, apply himself properly. Not for Dad’s sake, but for hers. He inhaled deep into his lungs. It wasn’t as if he didn’t have the skills. No, he couldn’t see through crumbling plaster, but he knew how to bring a project in, and yes, renovating a building was different to developing a new site, but it all boiled down to planning, budgeting, managing, which were definitely his bag. So, no more making things hard, for himself or for her. Especially her. He set his lips. And he wasn’t letting her take the blame for what had happened either.
‘I’m not buying it, Quinn.’ Her chin lifted in a gesture of defiance, but that was all right. He was feeling sure-footed now, lighter somehow. ‘I think you’d have stopped at the head of the stairs, looked around, then gone back down because, whatever you say about getting caught up, I think you’d have been mindful that we’d be wondering where you were.’ He opened his palms to push the point. ‘So you see, my fault.’
Her brow pleated. ‘Are we still arguing about this?’
‘Absolutely.’
Her gaze tightened on his, as if she thought she could make him fold with her eyes, and then she was puffing her cheeks out, giving up.
‘Well, you’re right about one thing. I do try to be mindful.’ Her eyes flashed. ‘But I’m also right because I do get distracted...’ She frowned, considering for a moment, and then her eyes brightened. ‘Why don’t we go halves?’
Sharing the blame. Not as convivial as sharing a pizza—which he could totally murder right now—but it was something. Better than stringing this out anyway, which was the likely alternative since she seemed to be as stubborn as he was. Besides, wasn’t working together all about compromise?
‘Okay.’ He sighed, labouring it to make it seem like he wasn’t a pushover. ‘If you insist. We can split it.’
‘Cool.’ She beamed a triumphant smile but then suddenly her gaze stilled. ‘We’re going to have to zip it too because I just remembered what Julia said outside...’
‘About what?’
