Page 5

Chapter three

Catalytic oxidation: a process whereby the rate of oxidation of a compound is rapidly increased by the use of a catalyst. Example: use of appropriate filter media accelerates the oxidation of iron, allowing it to be precipitated and filtered out of water.

“ S o let me check if I have this right.” Luke pauses to have a sip of his lager. “Your job is to get iron out of water by turning it into rust.”

I laugh, spearing a chip with my fork and stuffing it into my mouth.

“Well, sort of. My team’s job is to make sure that the water we process is pure enough to drink and use.

That does include removing dissolved metals, like iron.

And yeah, we mainly remove that by oxidising it so that it precipitates out, which we’re then able to filter out. ”

He nods thoughtfully. “Nominative determinism,” he eventually says.

“Bless you?”

He chuckles. “It’s just that observation that people tend to end up in lines of work that are related to their names. Like loads of people called Butcher end up actually being butchers, and all that. You literally work with rust.”

I smile over the table at him. “I mean, it’s not exactly rust…”

“Close enough.” His teeth shine white in the candlelight.

He’s wearing a comfortable-looking cashmere V-neck jumper over a chequered shirt with the top button unfastened, and showing me tantalising glimpses of dark blond chest hair as he moves.

He leans in whenever I speak, and I keep catching whiffs of the same cologne he wore on our last date.

For our second date, Luke’s suggested a midweek dinner at an unassuming pub in Didsbury, which is within walking distance of where he lives and only a short drive for me. The staff are friendly, the ambience is warm and welcoming, and my food is gorgeous.

I’d been worried that the connection we’d shared on the first date might have been some sort of fluke, but it seems so far like things are going strong.

We’d texted a fair bit in the three days between Sunday and today anyway, and this evening the conversation has just flowed as if we’ve known each other for years.

It feels effortless on my part, and as nearly as I can tell he seems to be enjoying my company.

The only thing distracting me is watching those perfectly formed lips as he eats his dinner, knowing as I now know how soft those are and how good they felt against my own mouth. But I don’t want to put him off, so I stay on my best behaviour for now.

“So what about you?” I ask over a mouthful of lemonade. “I mean, I know you’re an architect. What buildings do you design?” Is that a stupid question? I’m not even sure.

He nods. “The firm I’ve joined actually takes on a pretty wide range of projects.

Community buildings, conservation work, offices, all that and more.

My area is sustainability - making sure our builds are optimised so that energy consumption is reduced as much as possible.

A lot of it is about insulation, heat recovery from ventilation systems, and airtightness.

” He grins. “This is usually where peoples’ eyes start glazing over. ”

“People mustn’t be very clever then,” I say smartly, and instead of finding it rude, he snickers. “I mean, if you want to talk efficiency and optimisation, find a friendly engineer. It’s practically the whole point of any kind of operating system.”

I’m acutely aware that things are going well - things seem to be going so well that I’m freaking out in the back of my mind.

I can’t remember the last time I’ve been on a date that has felt this natural.

And so, it’s impossible to completely drown out that little whisper in my head, that’s been asking: And if even this one doesn’t work out, what chances are there left for you then?

Today must be a good self-esteem day though, because with only a little effort, I give that voice a kick in the seat of the pants and continue to enjoy my evening.

He convinces me (with very little effort) to share a slice of cheesecake with him.

It turns out licking my lips has the effect of making his sea green eyes darken a shade, and making him shift in his seat.

The effect is also reproducible on repeat testing.

“Careful, Charlie,” Luke warns, though there’s only humour in his voice. “Naughty boys don’t get nice things.”

Now it’s my turn to squirm in my seat. I know I’m blushing, and he looks a little smug, so I snipe back, “If you were planning to send me off to bed without dessert, you’re a bit too late.”

He hums noncommittally. “That’s true.” He looks pointedly at the cheesecake, which has almost disappeared - almost all of it into my gob.

“Whoops.” I grin at him. “Sorry.”

He chuckles, and pushes the plate towards me. “It’s alright, poppet. Have the last bit.”

And I do, while pretending that being called a pet name hasn’t made me feel fuzzy and warm inside.

When we leave the pub, Luke asks me if I want to nip over to his house for a coffee.

I’m a bit surprised, but I figure I’m totally up for it if he is.

We jump into my car, and he’s polite enough not to comment on the mess of raincoats, magazines, grocery bags and umbrellas that clutters the back seats.

It’s a literal two-minute drive before we’re pulling into his driveway in a quiet cul-de-sac in West Didsbury, which looks the picture of suburban bliss.

His house is a detached residence with an exposed brick exterior, and there’s a sleek-looking black saloon car parked next to mine.

“I’m trying not to feel too jealous at all the space you have here,” I tell him as we shed our coats and shoes in his small foyer.

He grins. “After years of living in a shoebox in London, I just absolutely had to have some space for once. It’s still a work in progress, mainly because I only want to get stuff that I actually like, but it’s started feeling like home now.”

“It’s pretty awesome,” I say, looking round the living room he’s led me into.

There’s a massive mirror high on one wall, making the already spacious room appear larger.

A huge telly is suspended across the other wall, and I spot a games console attached to it.

A glass-fronted bookcase in natural oak stretches across one corner, half-filled with books and small decorations.

A square coffee table with a glass inlay pulls focus to the middle of the room, and comfy leather couches face it on either side.

Two stand lamps illuminate the room with a warm glow.

It’s not showroom-tidy, in that there’s a pair of sneakers shoved into a corner, a couple of creased architectural magazines on the table and a mostly-empty coffee cup on the table (which Luke quickly spirits away), but it’s definitely a far cry from the mess of my flat on the Salford Quays.

I make a mental note to do an intense spring clean before I ever let Luke step foot into my place.

Luke returns pretty quickly with two mugs of coffee.

“Decaf as promised.” He winks. “Wouldn’t want you wired all night again.

” We’d texted late into the night after our first date, at least in part powered by the caffeine trip from the many, many coffees I’d chugged during the day.

He sits down next to me, his broad thigh close to but not quite touching mine.

“Thanks.” I sip, and shift in my seat, unsure if I’m meant to be… initiating something. Just go for it, Charlie. “Should we… can we kiss again?” I’ve thought about it so much over the past few days. More than just thought about it, to be honest.

He sets his cup down and smiles. “I was hoping you might want to.” He shifts closer and his thigh brushes mine, sending sparks of electricity up my spine. He leans in, less tentatively than last time, and presses his lips to mine.

This time I’m more confident, knowing that I have implicit permission.

A couple of seconds into the kiss I lift my hands to his shoulders, and let them roam over his arms and torso.

He seems to enjoy this, if the quiet sounds he’s making into my mouth are any indication.

Heartened by the response, I let my hand roam lower.

Luke tenses a little and gently catches my wrist. “Whoa, Charlie,” he says softly. “Slow down.”

Oh. Oh crap.

I zip right to the edge of the couch. He lets me go instantly, even as I start speaking. “Shit. I’m sorry. I thought…”

Luke’s also speaking at the same time. “I’m sorry, Charlie. It’s not that I don’t… I just…”

We both stop talking simultaneously.

I’m the first to restart. “I thought… when you asked me over for coffee…” It’s hard to speak past the lump in my throat. Maybe it’s my heart, which is pounding a mile a minute in my chest.

Luke winces. “Oh. That is… Yes, I see what happened.”

I’m paralysed by a combination of horror and complete, utter mortification. “I’m sorry. I should go.”

He reaches out to hold my hand, and even though the touch would have delighted me a few seconds ago, right now I barely register it as a comfort. “Please don’t, Charlie. Not like this. Let me explain.”

I blink at him. “You don’t… there’s nothing to explain. I… I should go.” My heart continues to beat at my ribcage, trying to drown everything else out.

His green-eyed gaze bores into me. “Stay. Please. Just a few moments.”

I stare at him for a long second, and nod numbly.

He sighs, and looks down at our joined hands for a second.

“I’m sorry you got the wrong idea, Charlie, and I’m even more sorry that I’ve upset you.

” For the first time, I realise that he looks as wretched as I feel.

“I should have been clearer. I asked you back here because it seemed like we were having a great time, and I wasn’t quite ready to say goodnight yet.

” His thumb strokes over my knuckle, and I realise my breathing is slowing, even though I hadn’t even been aware that I’d been hyperventilating to begin with.

“I may have also been hoping for a bit more making out.”

The admission surprises a short huff out of me. He gives me a cautious grin and continues.

“I really, really like you, Charlie. And that means that I want to take all this slowly. Maybe I’ve misunderstood, but I… I had a distinct impression that you wanted me to be an old-fashioned gentleman. And I wanted you to have everything exactly as you wished.”

I frown. An old-fashioned gentleman… there’s something tantalisingly familiar about his voice saying those words, but I can’t quite make the connection.

I mull over it for a few seconds, before I realise that I’ve just been staring at him like a creep.

“I’m just really…” I blink hard at the sudden tears that have sprung up, and I look down so that he can’t see me.

“I’m embarrassed,” I make myself admit croakily. “And you must think…” I can’t continue.

“Poppet.” I find myself enveloped in a tight, warm embrace.

Luke’s hug might be a tiny bit magical, because even the full-on meltdown I’d worked myself into seems to halt in its tracks, giving way in grudging steps to a soft calm.

I wind my own arms around him cautiously, reassured when it only makes him squeeze me tighter.

At some point he presses a few soft kisses to the top of my head, and it’s strange how that seems more intimate than the times his tongue has been in my mouth.

He shifts after a while, but only so that he can look me in the eye.

“Just continuing on from that,” he says in a low voice.

“If you want to know what I think, that you want more with me - it makes me very, very glad.” I shiver at the hunger in his gaze.

“And I’m very much looking forward to the things we’ll do together, hopefully very soon. ”

I swallow, and his pupils dilate even further so that his eyes almost look black in the lamplight. “Okay,” I say stupidly. “That’s… good.”

He gives me another quick kiss, followed by another which is deeper and longer, and a third.

“Right,” he says after an eternity, pulling back slightly. At some point I’ve practically ended up in his lap, and he doesn’t try to shift me. “I think we’d better stop, because, Charlie Rust, you are sorely testing my resolve to be a gentleman tonight.”

I’m feeling cheeky enough to bat my eyelashes at him. “Oh really.” I’m aiming for coy and coquettish, but I suspect I probably just sound like a camp cartoon villain.

He pokes my side, and I squeak, because I’m extremely ticklish. “Yes. Don’t tempt me, poppet. I’ve made a promise and I’m keeping it.”

I squint at him as I disembark his lap reluctantly. “A promise to whom?”

He shakes his head, a fond smile turning his already handsome face into a work of art. “It’s not important. Now pick up your cup, we’re drinking coffee now.”

“What a horrible thing you’ve just asked me to do,” I say gloomily, and he laughs.

I leave only a little later, after a long hug and a lingering kiss at the doorstep.

I realise that I already miss him, and alarm bells should be ringing in my head at how quickly I’m falling for Luke Irons, someone whose name I barely remembered a week ago.

But instead, there’s a sweet, fluttering feeling in my chest. I’ve not felt it for so long, I’ve almost forgotten it. It feels like hope.