by JF Holland
“Is she really not your type?”
“It’s not that,” Leonard sighed, pulling up beside the little church where Michael’s funeral was taking place.
“What’s the problem?” Jaden asked, turning to him.
“I like her too much, but at the same time, she annoys the arse off me,” Leonard scowled, shaking his head. The woman drove him up the wall, she was constantly arguing with him and trying to pay her way. He’d been brought up in a time when women expected to be taken care of. Modern women, although they had their good parts, had annoying habits, like independence and knowing their own minds. Letting the thoughts go, he turned the engine off and alighted, grabbing his coat out of the back and slipping into it. Jaden was a little slower, Maya appearing by the passenger door as he finally got out, straightening his own suit jacket, finger running around the collar of his shirt.
Leonard left them to do the lovey dovey, and made his way towards the others who were all waiting by the front of the small church. The hearse pulled up and jaw grinding he folded his arms before him and bowed his head. As the doors opened on the cars following, Cathy’s loud sobs could be heard and Leonard swallowed. This was wrong, they should not be burying a 15-year-old lad, he’d had no life at all, no chance to fall in love. His head came up at that word as he looked around the others, Maya leaning into Jaden, Sam with his arm around Helena and he blinked.
Bollocks, he was in trouble.
Chapter Twenty-Two
J ill kept checking her phone, but Leonard had gone on radio silence, even though he’d said he’d call.
Arsehole.
Well, she was not going to be the type of woman who waited around for a phone call. Then found herself picking it up and checking it was indeed switched on. Disgusted with herself, she put it in her back pocket and made her way into the kitchen. Her eyes once again moved to the empty spot on the counter and a lone tear trailed down her cheek. Brushing it away, she opened the fridge, and had her head in it, rooting through the contents for something to eat when her phone went.
“Ouch, son of a bitch,” she groaned, straightening up and rubbing her forehead as she pulled her phone out.
“Jill, you there?”
“Hi Amanda,” she sighed, slamming the fridge door and glaring at it as she left the kitchen and dropped onto the sofa.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, just tired. I was trying to figure out what to eat,” she told her.
“It’s nearly 9 in the evening. Why have you not eaten before now?” came Amanda’s rebuke and she sighed.
“I’m not hungry,” she told her, head dropping back on the sofa.
“I know Moby’s gone, but you must eat,” Amanda told her gently.”
“It was awful, coming in from work and him not at the front of his bowl to great me,” she sobbed.
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry I’m not close enough to give you a hug.”
“I know,” Jill sighed, blowing her nose and wiping her eyes. “How’s Polly?”
“She’s good, she sends her love.”
“Tell her, love her back.”
“Will do, now how’s that man of yours?”
“Pfft,” Jill replied.
“Uh, oh, is there trouble in paradise?”
“I don’t understand him, Amanda.” Jill sighed.
“I thought he was the best thing since sliced bread?”
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Jill sighed.
“What’s he done?”
“It’s what he hasn’t done.”
“Spill, and hang on while I take a seat. I have a feeling this may take some time. Okay, I’m sitting, now tell me all about it,” she cooed.
“He won’t… he’s not…”
“He won’t, he’s not, what?”
“He won’t sleep with me,” Jill sighed.
“You’ve not slept with him?”
“Well, he’s slept with me, he’s just not…”
“The horizontal shuffle,” Amanda supplied. “But I thought he’d been giving you the big ‘O’?”
“Well, yes, but not through…”
“So the train hasn’t entered the station yet then?”
“Good analogy, and no. Maybe he doesn’t like me.”
“Don’t be silly, he’d be stupid not to like you, and from what you’ve told me he’s not stupid. Plus, he’s taken you to a posh restaurant and the ballet.”
“You’ve not seen the way women throw themselves at him Amanda, it’s bloody weird.”
“Please, do you not remember how it was with me and Polly in the beginning?”
“Oh yes, I’d forgotten about that.”
“Yeah, well I haven’t. It’s damn unsettling when you are eating a meal and people come over hitting on your date,” Amanda told her with a sigh.
“Yeah,” Jill sympathised.
“Anyway, how am I meant to compete with those women. I mean, I’m not exactly runway material.”
“Of course you are, just a pocket rocket version,” Amanda replied, making her laugh.
“Umpa lumpa proportions,” Jill replied dryly.
“No, just small and curvy. You have a woman’s figure, fifties pin up, you know hips.”
“Don’t I know it. It’s just a pity I didn’t get the boobs to go with them.”
“You have nice boobs, small and perky.”
“Eew, that sound wrong coming from you.”
“It did actually. I feel kind of skanky now, like eyeing up my sister.”
“Ha-ha-ha,” Jill laughed.
“So, are you okay now?”
“Yes, I will be.”
“Oh, and Jill, give him some time, okay?”
“I’ll try.”
“Good, right I’m off, Polly’s waiting for me in the bathtub.”
“Lovely, visual, thanks for that,” Jill told her with a shudder.
“You’re welcome, love you Jilly-bobs, speak soon.”
“Love you too Amanda, have fun,” with that she pressed end on her friend’s assurance that she would be.
Sitting back, she stared at her now blank phone screen. Her finger hovered over the button to turn on her menu, but she held off. She knew he’d been to a funeral today, Thomas had told her in work. She’d felt dreadful, he’d not said a thing about it to her last night. No wonder he hadn’t understood her upset over the loss of her beloved goldfish, he’d known he was attending the funeral of a 15-year-old boy. Not any boy, but one he knew and had found, having to break the news to his parents. God, she’d felt dreadful all day. She dropped her phone and pushed up off the sofa again, because her stomach was rumbling now, she needed sustenance.
Once again, she had her head in the fridge rooting through the contents, when the doorbell went.
“Motherfucker,” she groaned, banging her head again. Straightening up, before she shut the fridge door. This time she kicked it after glaring at it, and then hobbled to the front door.
Chapter Twenty-Three
L eonard had spent the day, trying not to give into the urge to ring Jill. Even going so far as to hand his housekeeper his phone and sending her home with it. However, he’d given in and drove to the woman’s house to pick it up again a couple of hours later. The middle-aged woman, had opened the door and slapped the phone into his outstretched hand with a “phone her,” growl, before shutting the door in his face.
Obviously, his foul mood as he’d stomped around his house had gotten on her nerves. Or, maybe it was the number of times he’d asked her advice on what women liked doing.
Now here he stood on Jill’s doorstep, Chinese take-out in hand, a bouquet of red roses and a box that was making mewling noises.
“I’ve lost the plot,” he mumbled, looking over his shoulder to check that no one could see him. Then rolled his eyes, turning back as he heard Jill hopping down the hallway and swearing up a storm.
“Motherfucker,” rather a strange greeting, don’t you think?” Leonard asked with amusement as she stood with the
open door in her hand. She looked flushed, and there was a red lump on her forehead, he noticed as she blew her hair out of her eyes.
“Leonard, come in,” was all she said, then hobbled off up the hallway again and disappeared through the living room doorway.
Closing the front door, he went after her, finding her on the sofa cradling her right foot.
“What have you been doing?” he asked, putting the food, flowers and box on the floor beside the sofa and squatting before her.
“I had a fight with the fridge and it won,” she told him dryly, her hand over her big toe.
“Let me see,” he told her, reaching for her foot.
Sighing, she removed her hand and leaned back against the sofa, hissing as he prodded her foot.
“It’s just bruised, you are going to have one on your forehead too.”
“I know,” she mumbled, rubbing at the spot and sighing. “Motherfucker, gave as good as it got,” she told him dryly.
Laughing, he shook his head as he got up, and removed his long duster coat, placing it over the arm of the single armchair.
“What had the fridge done to you to deserve the beating it gave you?” he asked her laughingly as he picked up the flowers and handed them to her. “Here, for you,” he mumbled, sobering and moving from foot to foot.
“You bought me flowers,” Jill blinked, staring at him as he stood there, in yet another designer suit, looking uncomfortable. “Thank you, they’re beautiful,” she told him hiding a smile as she stuck her nose in the red roses and sniffed.
“I asked for unscented, so they don’t detract from your own scent of honeysuckle,” Leonard replied with a shrug.
“I have a scent,” Jill sniffed her armpit, trying to figure out if she smelt funky.
“Yes, you always smell of honeysuckle and clean rain,” he informed her, hands in his trouser pockets, as a hint of red stained his cheeks.
“Thank you,” Jill replied, shocked, he’d given her a compliment, but looked extremely uncomfortable while doing so. Then she sniffed, appreciatively, the smell of cooked food, noodles, beef and mushrooms and a few other things assaulted her senses. Her stomach rumbled and he looked at her, eyebrow raised.
“I was looking for something to eat, I banged my head twice and then the door went. I then kicked it for good measure,” she shrugged.
“Not a good idea to pick on something bigger than you,” he replied dryly, then leaned over and picked up the boxes.
“I brought supper, I believe you mentioned something about a banquet at the local Chinese. ‘Fu Young’s’ was the only one I could find when I drove around your neighbourhood,” he told her as he passed her the boxes.
“You brought me flowers and food?” Jill asked, speechless.
“Oh, and this,” he added, again bending and picking up the other box by the side of the sofa. He then carefully placed it on her knee and took the flowers and other boxes from her and retreated into the kitchen.
Jill watched his retreating back and then heard cupboard doors opening and him messing in there. A scuffling sound came from the box on her knee and her attention was drawn to it. There were holes cut into the top of the box, and she realised it was breathing holes. Curiously, she opened the lid, and a little black head popped out, bright blue eyes stared at her and a soft mewl left its mouth.
“You bought me a kitten?” Jill asked, swallowing as she lifted the small fluffy bundle from the box and held it against her chest, rubbing between the ears. It let out a loud contented purr, and she smiled, a tear sliding down her cheek.
“Did I do wrong? I thought it would be company for you after you lost Moby. I did think about getting you another goldfish, but it wouldn’t be the same, and felt a little like trying to replace what you’d lost.” He shrugged as he leaned against the door frame, one leg crossed over the other.
“She’s beautiful, thank you.” Jill replied, swallowing the lump in her throat at his thoughtfulness.
“It’s a he, and he’s called Fluffy,” Leonard told her with a slight smile, “Fluffy-Jay to be exact,” he told her, smile turning to a grin, his smile spreading as he eyed the jet-black kitten and held up a little red collar with a bell attached. “He’s called a Bombay, and is meant to have a very friendly disposition even though he looks a little like a miniature panther or black jaguar,” he informed her with a little glee. “His eyes may not stay blue; they may end up more of a golden amber as he’s only 8-weeks-old.”
“He’s beautiful,” she whispered, her chin rubbing between the cat’s ears.
“So you’ll keep him?”
“Oh yes, I will. I love Fluffy-Jay already,” she informed him, and he grinned again, before pushing off from the doorframe and heading back into the kitchen.
“Where do you keep your vases?” he asked appearing at the doorway again.
“I’m not sure I have any, but if I do it may be under the sink unit,” she told him, holding the kitten up to her face and rubbing her nose with his. Leonard grinned before going back into the kitchen.
“Two birds, one stone,” he mumbled to himself.
Smug bastard had taken the piss out of him this afternoon. He’d not realised until he’d gotten home and thought about their conversation as he’d been too lost in his own mixed up thoughts about Jill, and Michael’s death. Let’s see how Jaden likes it when he realises that Jill has a little black kitten called Fluffy-Jay, he chuckled gleefully, as he rooted for a vase.
Finding one right at the back, he moved things around and pulled it out. He closed the door and rinsed it under the tap before filling it with water, then used the scissors which he’d found in the drawer to cut the cellophane off the roses. He dropped them into the vase and gave up trying to be artistic, just made his way back into the front room with them. He put it on the little coffee table she kept pushed by the side of the sofa.
“Thank you,” she murmured. “They’re lovely, and he’s just so adorable. I hated coming in from work tonight and not finding Moby waiting at the front of his bowl to greet me,” she told him feeling stupid.
“You’re welcome, and I’m sorry you lost your pet.”
“Leonard?”
“Are we back to that?” he asked, brow raised.
“Fine, Leo,” she replied and he smiled. “Why didn’t you tell me you had to attend a funeral today?”
“Thomas has a big mouth,” he scowled. “To be honest I was not looking forward to it. There has been too much death just recently, and the loss of such a young cub was not only unexpected but heart wrenching,” he told her with a shrug. Jill frowned at his use of cub, but let it go, thinking it was just his way of talking about a teenager.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
“I will be, and I’m much better now I’m here with you. Now are you ready to eat?”
“I am, but what about Fluffy-Jay?” Jill asked, Leonard again eyed the kitten with amusement.
“I have a small cat bed, tray, food and other bits in the boot of the car. The breeder supplied me with everything you’d need for him. I’ve even set up a vet’s account for you for his injections and flea and worm treatment, and of course to have him neutered once he’s old enough. I’ll take him for that one if you’d rather not do it,” he informed her, hiding another grin as he made his way in the kitchen and began putting plates on the breakfast bar.
Chapter Twenty-Four
L eonard had spent the night with her, again refusing to have sex, trying every trick in the book not to; which she still couldn’t get her head around to be honest. He’d lay curled against her back, fitted black silk jersey boxers on, hard as steel, but had refused. She’d brought Fluffy-Jay up and he lay curled in his little sleeper that Leonard had bought, curled around a teddy, purring contentedly. He’d hissed at Leonard at one point as he’d removed him from her so she could eat. Leonard, being Leonard, had of course hissed back, flashing his own dental work, and the kitten had backed down. Obviously, she’d found him arguing with a kitten hilarious,
so had laughed until her sides hurt. Leonard hadn’t taken kindly to it, so had sulked through the ribs course, but was back to talking to her by the time they’d gotten to the chow mein.
She found him confusing. He was sweet and kind, and charming, but she’d also found some of his answers to questions to be evasive. He was definitely hiding something from her, as he always seemed to weigh up his words before he spoke about his friends. It was if he was constantly on guard, in case he let something slip, but this only made her more determined to figure out what it was. She’d asked what Luc did, trying to garner more of his life away from her, but she’d ended up more confused than ever. He’d told her that he was an architect but that he flew. When she’d asked him if he flew to his job, he’d told her he flew everywhere, much easier when he had his own wings.
Now, what kind of an answer was that?
Was Luc ex-forces? She knew the air force classed themselves as having wings, or was it that he’d died? She worried her bottom lip at the idea, because Leonard didn’t talk about him as if he was no longer here. He confused the hell out of her sometimes. There were also certain words he used or turns of phrase that weren’t modern. He also spoke of events that had happened hundreds of years ago as if he’d been there, which was preposterous.
“Good morning, are you ready to break your fast?” he asked, sitting up and stretching.
See, such a weird turn of phrase.
“I am,” Jill replied, letting it go. Leonard leaned over, brushing a kiss across her lips, then slipped from the bed before she could deepen it. He kept his back to her, and she rolled her eyes, because seriously, did he think she’d missed the two man tent he had going on in his boxers. “I’ll nip down and put the kettle on, what do you fancy?” Jill asked, clambering out of the bed as elegantly as a baby hippo. Fridays may be the end of the work week for her, but after the week she’d had she was absolutely shattered. She’d had a rollercoaster of a week with a certain raven-haired man, who was presently on his tiptoes, trying to tuck himself away without trapping himself with his zipper. She shook her head at his antics. Then a thought struck her.
