‘Well … I’m shy, you’re outgoing. I alphabetise my books; you probably stuff them into bookshelves any-old-how. Not that there’s anything wrong with that,’ I added to soften the blow.
Luke Harte held his hands up. ‘Wow. You’ve definitely got me pegged. I do shove all my books on to the shelves in random order. How did you know that? Do I look like a messy, couldn’t-care-less kind of a guy?’
As he moved under the gazebo light, I noticed that his eyes were a very nice shade of blue.
‘Erm. I don’t know. I just guessed about the books. Or rather, I just know that I’m weird compared to most people when it comes to these things.’
‘Quirky, not weird. And opposites attract, remember. Clichés are clichés for a reason, as a very wise man once told me.’
I noted a wobble in his voice and I was intrigued. ‘A wise man?’
‘My father. He … he died a few years ago. We’re all still reeling from it. My family, I mean. It’s literally the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life.’
‘Gosh. I’m so sorry.’
Luke nodded. ‘Thanks. It was grim, but we’re all moving on now. Mostly. Anyway, are you close to your parents?’
‘Not at all, unfortunately. I’m an only child … not planned, I think. I always felt a bit … superfluous.’ I rolled my shoulders. ‘But hey. They’re okay, really. They live in Scotland now.’
‘That’s a shame.’ He seemed genuinely sympathetic. ‘Are you going to tell me your name now? I feel at a disadvantage. Especially now that we’ve … you know. Shared things.’
I managed a teasing glance. ‘I don’t think I will. Besides, there are plenty of other, prettier girls here for you to chat to.’
‘Is that so?’ A furrow appeared in his brow. ‘What if I said I liked girls in short, stripy dresses who alphabetise their books?’
I felt laughter approaching. ‘I’d tell you it was a phase. One I’m sure you’ll grow out of very soon.’ A giggle escaped.
‘Ouch! That hurt, Stripes.’ Luke clapped his hands to his chest, miming pain. ‘But that just shows that you haven’t got me pegged, after all.’
‘Oh?’
Luke leaned against the post and folded his arms across his chest, decapitating the Foo Fighters. ‘Because if you knew me better, you’d know that I don’t go in for phases. Things I care about, I stick with. My family and my career, to give you a couple of examples.’
I considered him. He was definitely younger than me, in his early twenties, I would say at a guess.
‘I’m a paramedic, for my sins.’ Luke’s mouth twitched. ‘Soon to be, anyway. I know, I know; you think I’m doing it for the glory. I expect you think I support Man United, too.’
I was impressed; I admit it. Which was ridiculous. He saved lives, but so did lots of people. It suited him though. It gave his good looks and charming patter credibility. Which made him seem even more attractive. Dammit. How very annoying.
‘If you’d seen some of the things I’ve seen … injured children, domestic abuse, stuff like that.’ He looked serious for the first time, his mouth settling into a sober line. ‘But enough about me … what do you do?’
‘I work in this book shop.’ I cringed, thinking this must sound rather rubbish compared to being a paramedic. Luke looked interested, however, so I carried on. ‘It’s lovely and my boss is this sweet, old guy who’s really nice to me and pays me far too much, but it’s not necessarily my vocation, you know?’
‘Do you know what that is?’
I shook my head and laughed. ‘No! Not exactly. I studied literature, but I’d really just be happy to do something that made me feel … uplifted. It doesn’t have to be something incredible like being a paramedic, but something fun. Something … positive. That probably sounds strange. Sorry.’
‘No, it doesn’t.’
Luke’s mouth curled up as if he was thinking about something and he drummed his fingers on his arm. I wondered if it was a habit that might become annoying, then decided that it wasn’t. And that I was getting ahead of myself.
‘I know this might sound a bit weird, but if you really want a change, my mum could do with an extra pair of hands in the family business. It’s a florist.’
A florist? I faltered. I thought about it. I supposed it could be rather lovely working with flowers. Apart from condolence ones, presumably. I had always loved flowers, but I was relatively clueless about the different kinds.
‘Think about it,’ Luke said. He added a casual shrug. ‘It’s in the centre of town and the pay isn’t bad at all. I know my mum could do with some help, so if you’re really pushed, it’s an option.’
‘Okay. Thanks. That’s really kind of you.’
‘I’m not being kind, if I’m honest. The job is real, but I’m also trying to engineer a situation where you won’t be able to reject my advances so easily.’
That lovely smile again. I was seriously in danger of becoming smitten with Luke Harte.
‘I should go … Dee’s calling me over …’ My voice registered my regret.
Luke stopped me by taking my hand. ‘Listen. Stripes. You’re the most fascinating girl I’ve met in ages. You’re funny, you’re super-organised – which I love, incidentally – and you’re beautiful. Quirky-beautiful. That’s the best kind, by the way.’
That did it for me. Luke Harte was too much for me. When had anyone told me I was beautiful, let alone ‘quirky-beautiful?’ I was scared. Petrified, in fact.
‘I – I have to go,’ I mumbled, stumbling away from him. When I reached Dee, I stole a glance over my shoulder, my heart beating a bit more quickly than usual. But Luke Harte had gone; melting into the darkness like a ghost. It was almost as if our chat hadn’t happened.
I spent the next month thinking non-stop about Luke bloody Harte. About him asking me out, about me saying no. About me telling him about my idiot of an ex-boyfriend and about him opening up about his dad. I don’t think I’d ever spoken to a stranger about myself so much.
Then one day, he just turned up. Dazzling Luke Harte turned up in the little book shop I worked in, wearing his teal paramedic’s outfit and claiming, with a mischievous smile, to be in the mood for book-buying.
‘Fill your boots,’ I said, delighted to see him. I watched in amusement as he carefully selected books about caring for gladioli, the Second World War and the practicalities of owning a greenhouse.
‘Actually, I’m not really here to buy books,’ Luke sheepishly confessed after presenting my boss with a twenty pound note, with the change to go in the charity box on the desk. My boss gazed at him adoringly.
‘No?’ I said.
‘No. I’m here to ask you out again and I’m not taking no for an answer.’
