Chapter Eighteen
‘Was this the kind of thing you had in mind?’
I tore my eyes from the intricate pen and ink drawing in my hands. Even though he’d only had a couple of photographs to go on, Rhys had managed to perfectly capture the lines of the house and had even included small details, like the bird’s nest in the tree beside the front door and the trailing wisteria that spilled from the garden wall onto the driveway. The Dexters, the couple who’d lived in the house for over thirty years, were going to love it.
‘You’ve absolutely nailed it,’ I said, looking up at him with admiration.
‘Great. I’m glad you like it.’
I still wasn’t certain if inserting a business element into our friendship was wise, but it clearly didn’t seem to worry him.
‘I’ll transfer the money to your bank account this afternoon. But I still don’t think you’re charging me enough.’
Rhys half perched on the corner of my desk. ‘Are you sure you’re good at this negotiating stuff, because I’m pretty certain you’re not supposed to persuade me to ask for more money.’
‘I just want to keep this professional.’ I softened my words with a smile. ‘That way I can call on you to do more of these without feeling guilty.’
‘There’s no need for you to feel guilty, Ellie. Not about anything.’
I swallowed uncomfortably, uncertain if we were still talking about commissioning him as an artist, or something else altogether.
I’d been thrown off-kilter ever since he’d walked into my office that morning, carrying two cups of coffee and a bag of pastries.
I’d been midway through what was turning out to be a very tricky conversation with a new client, who wanted every single clause of a boilerplate tenancy agreement explained to them ‘as though I was five years old’. Frankly, it would have been easier getting a classroom of primary school children to understand it than the man on the end of the line.
I mouthed a silent ‘Sorry’ to Rhys, followed by a less easy to lip-read ‘This might take a while.’
He mimed, ‘That’s okay. Take your time.’ At least I think that’s what he said. Staring at his lips had a way of making me lose focus, and I needed all my concentration on the call.
Setting the takeout cup and the pastries in front of me, Rhys had taken himself off to the opposite side of my office with his coffee, settled onto the client sofa, and begun leafing through one of the glossy magazines fanned out on the table beside him.
Half of my brain was engaged with soothing the nervous new landlord on the phone, but there were more than enough cells left to appreciate just how good Rhys looked that morning. He was wearing a pale chambray shirt with the cuffs rolled up, and casual trousers teamed with boots that looked worn enough to be comfortable. It was a good look on him.
The sunlight filtering through the stained-glass window above him brought out midnight blue highlights in his dark hair. It would have made for a stunning photograph, but if Rhys caught me secretly snapping one, I wouldn’t blame him for taking out a restraining order.
When my new client had asked every last question known to man, I was finally able to end the call.
Rhys set aside the magazine and gave me a smile that made my stomach flip.
‘You’re really very good at this, aren’t you?’ he asked.
‘Don’t let one half of a phone call fool you. I’ve made more than my fair share of mistakes since setting up in business.’
‘I don’t fool easily,’ Rhys said. ‘And as for mistakes, well, everyone makes them. It’s how you move on, it’s the things they teach us, that’s what’s important.’
‘Well, I think I’m very much a work in progress,’ I said, willing myself to keep this light and breezy, which was becoming increasingly hard with those green eyes studying me the way they were doing right now.
And how is that, exactly? Old Ellie popped up to ask. Just out of interest.
As though he likes what he sees?
It wasn’t hard to imagine her shaking her head in disbelief. It was troubling to realise that former me was starting to sound increasingly like my mother in her critiques, as though a vacancy had opened up and she’d slipped right into the role.
A ringtone that wasn’t mine interrupted the moment, which perhaps was no bad thing. Rhys pulled his phone from his pocket and glanced down at the screen. Whatever he saw there brought his brows closer together and made frown lines appear on his normally unmarked forehead.
‘It’s fine if you need to take that,’ I assured him.
He shook his head and silenced the ringing. ‘It’s not important,’ he said and some feminine instinct that was buried deep inside my psyche told me that the caller had been Annalise. I knew it with a certainty that defied all reason. Perhaps I was becoming more like Mel than I realised.