“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. Ididfeel 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?”
“Nope. Him and Calum are off today.” The woman lit a cigarette and regarded me with a piercing gaze. “You’re Kim’s fella, ain’t ya?”
“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?”
“To a charity? Nah. Ain’t got it in me, mate.”
I couldn’t think of a sensible solution, and from the slump of Kim’s shoulders, neither could he. “Is there nowhere you can get more wood from?”
“Today?” Kim shook his head. “The only way is to collect it ourselves, but even if I pull all the guys from the workshop, it’ll take all day, and we don’t have the time to lose.”
“I can help? The guys can keep working and—”
“Thanks, but you and me can’t bring in enough on our own.”