Page 6 of After Felix (Close Proximity #3)

CHAPTER FOUR

FELIX - TWO WEEKS LATER

I’m pottering around in my kitchen when I hear a knock on the roof and a cautious “Felix?”

I pop my head out of the door and grin at Max. “You found me, then?”

“Might have been easier if you’d told me that you lived on a narrowboat.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” I cock my head to one side. “You coming onboard the Aunt Sally or just going to stand out there like a garden gnome?”

“A garden gnome?”

I nod, repressing a smile. “Yes, one of those little potbellied ones with a fishing line and a constipated expression on his face.”

He laughs, but his eyes are already everywhere, taking in everything about the boat’s shiny blue-and-red painted exterior.

We might have spent our entire time together over the last two weeks testing out the durability of the mattresses at various hotels, but I’ve noticed one crucial fact about Max.

He’s fucking nosy. There isn’t anything that doesn’t interest him, and once that interest is caught, he becomes very intense about knowing everything on the subject.

I suppose it’s what made him a superb journalist. People are like puzzle pieces to him, and he has a great charm about him that people respond to.

I don’t share his nosy characteristics. I’m sure anyone shagging him would want to know everything about him, but I’ve totally avoided it.

Instead of researching him like I originally planned, I’ve avoided it.

I’m not sure why. I told myself it was rude to research him, but I think the truth lies in the slight twinge that tells me this man is dangerous to my aim of zero involvement.

He’s too handsome, too charming, too funny. Max Travers is just too much.

He breaks my chain of thought by grinning at me. “This is amazing . How long have you lived on here?”

“I’ve had this mooring for a few years. I moved around the first couple of years that I had the boat, but then I settled here.

I like Little Venice. It’s right in the centre of things, but it’s really quiet.

There are some brilliant pubs and restaurants too.

” He opens his mouth to undoubtedly ask me more questions, and I roll my eyes.

“I’ll give you the details, but I’m letting you know now that there’s a time limit on this interrogation. ”

“Interrogation?” he says, stepping aboard. “What interrogation? You use the strangest words.”

“It’s the thing you do to everyone who is doing something that interests you. It crops up at the oddest moments.”

“I don’t have the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

I shake my head. “Oh, really? It wasn’t you, then, who tied me to the hotel bed last week and then went out to the other room to sign for room service. How long were you gone for, Max?”

He scrubs his hand through his hair, looking embarrassed. “Half an hour?”

“Yes, I must say that’s definitely one for my memoirs. I can’t describe how lovely it was to lie there and count the seconds while hearing you ask about the fascinating intricacies of the old dumb-waiter mechanism. It’s got to be the single most riveting sexual encounter I’ve ever had.”

He laughs. “I do like to come first in things. My mother always said it was a fault in my character. ”

I shake my head. “Coming first is actually a compliment to the other man or so Trigger-Happy Terry told me last time I slept with him.”

He laughs loudly. “At least you’ll remember me.”

“It’s a good job the waiter didn’t come into the bedroom, or we’d both be memorable for all the wrong reasons.”

He cocks his head to one side as if suddenly noticing me. “What are you wearing, Felix?”

I look down at my outfit of pyjama pants, an ancient hoody, combat boots, and my grandad’s old tweed coat. I’ve accessorised this charming outfit with a rainbow-striped beanie. “Erm, warm clothes? It’s only spring, and it turned very cold this week.”

“Well, that’s just stupendous. All this glamour just to shag me. I can’t think why I didn’t have to fight my way through a long line of suitors.”

“It’s their lunchtime,” I say solemnly. “They’ll be back at two.” When he laughs, I grin at him. “It’s bloody cold on the boat. April isn't exactly balmy this year.”

He shivers suddenly as if he’s just felt it. “Why is it so cold? Is it normally cold on boats? What do you do when it snows and what?—”

“Oh my God ,” I say loudly. “This is press intrusion at its best. Why don’t you thrust your microphone in my face while you’re at it?”

He winks. “I’ll keep my microphone to myself for the moment, Felix. A man must have some decorum and not just thrust it willy-nilly.”

“Is it because your microphone malfunctions?” I say sympathetically. “Because I’m sure it happens to a lot of men.”

He bites his lip. “Does it?”

I shrug. “Who fucking knows? I don’t hang around after microphone failure. I do have standards, you know.”

He returns to his original question like a heat-seeking missile. “Why is it so cold in here?”

I roll my eyes. “The boiler’s packed up. I’ve got a space heater, but it doesn’t give off enough warmth to heat a gnat’s chilly backside.”

He studies me and then grins widely. “This is perfect.”

“It’s perfect that I’m freezing to death? That’s quite heartless, Max. ”

“No, I can fix the boiler for you. Saves you the cost of a plumber.”

“You’ll do what, now?” I ask warily and watch as he takes off his motorcycle jacket and the black jumper underneath it. “Wait. What are you doing?”

He rolls up the sleeves on his long-sleeve grey T-shirt. “I told you. I’m going to fix the boiler.”

“Is that after you get your plumbing qualifications?” I ask uneasily, following him as he makes his way unerringly to the little engine room. “Oh Max, you can’t do that,” I protest as he removes the boiler cover and looks at the innards with entirely strange enthusiasm.

He looks up. “Why not?”

“Well, you’re wearing a Gant T-shirt,” I say, eyeing the soft grey crewneck. “You’ll get mucky.” I pause. “Oh, and you don’t have any plumbing knowledge.”

“It’s lovely to watch your priorities in action. It’s quite fascinating.” He winks at me. “And how do you know I don’t have plumbing experience? Did you read my book, after all, Felix?”

“Of course not.” I sniff. “It’s holding up my table.”

He laughs, his teeth white in his stubbled face. “Well, I do know a lot about boilers. I like finding out about stuff like that. I love engines,” he says enthusiastically.

“I love Jaffa cakes. Doesn’t mean I can make or repair them.” I scratch my chin. “You really don’t have to do this. We’re not about that.”

“And what are we about?” He seems amused.

I shrug. “I don’t know. I have a hole. You have a dick. That’s it.”

“Wow, it’s like we’ve been written in the stars. Move over, Romeo and Juliet.” I huff with laughter, and he grabs my nape, kissing my cheek. “Relax. I just have a vested influence in not fucking someone who is attempting to be the world’s skinniest human ice cube.”

“That’s all right, then,” I say, relaxing slightly. Then I stiffen. “Wait. I’m not skinny.”

“No?”

“No. I am wiry and very fit.”

He starts to laugh. “You are as far away from being fit as Jacob Rhys-Mogg is from having a pleasant personality. You were puffing when you had to race to get to the bar at last call last night.” I glare at him until he finishes laughing.

“Listen, it’s all good, Felix. I’ve repaired all sorts of engines and machinery.

I wouldn’t be alive now if I couldn’t do that.

I’ve repaired car engines in deserts and jungles and warzones. Now, do you have a pump plier?”

“Is that a sex toy?” I ask. “I’m afraid I’m a teeny bit vanilla, Max. I just have the one dildo and my hand.” I laugh as he makes flapping motions with his hands for me to move out of his way. “I’ll go and ask Rob, my neighbour. I usually just borrow tools off him.”

He shakes his head in disapproval, and I make my escape as he turns happily back to the recalcitrant boiler.

I lean against the wall when I’m out of his sight. It makes me uneasy to see him doing this for me. I dare say I’m being ridiculous. The man hasn’t proposed on bended knee. He’s just helping me out the way a mate would, with the added bonus of getting to stick his hands in an engine’s innards.

I bite my lip. It’s just that I try not to need people for anything. I do everything myself and don’t rely on anyone, and I’ve got a sneaking feeling that it would be way too easy to get used to having Max at my back. He’s just so competent and strong. Reassuring in a very charismatic package.

I give an exclamation of disgust. Get over yourself, Felix. He’s just helping out. Give it a few weeks, and you’ll never see him again. You’ll go back to being on your own, and he’ll go back to charming the pants off men in bookshops and never give you another thought.

I nod determinedly, already feeling better, and step off the boat to borrow some tools for him.

An hour later, after getting a load of my own work cleared up, I pop my head into the engine room to find Max and Rob bent over my boiler, conversing very happily in what appears to be a foreign language.

Max has a streak of oil running down his face, blood on his knuckles where he’s obviously hit himself with something, and black streaks over his T-shirt and jeans. He seems lit up from within.

“How are we doing?” They turn to me, looking as if they’d forgotten I was even on the boat. I suppress a smile. “Any joy?” I eye their clothes. “Beyond the illogical lure of boiler grease. ”

“I think it’s done,” Max says.

Rob squeezes past me, heading for the living area.

“Heating is coming on,” he calls after a moment.

Max fist bumps the air. “Yes!”

I shake my head. “I think it would have been cheaper to call a plumber than to destroy your very posh togs.”

He looks down, as if remembering that he was wearing clothes, and then shrugs. “I fit in better now, seeing as you’re dressing like an extra from Les Misérables .”

“I dreamed a dream,” I declare dramatically, and he laughs.