Fixed Up (6 page)

‘You've come to the right place. Though I'm afraid this gentleman hasn't.' Harper looked deliberately at Luke now, giving him an exaggerated frown. She waited for him to say something. His smile radiated out at her, warming her and making her face flush. Could everyone see he made her nervous? Hastily she flicked her gaze back to the two women.

‘Take a seat, ladies.' Heavy emphasis on the ‘ladies', but still no reaction from Luke, who should have been running screaming from the room by now, driven away by twenty pairs of staring female eyes. Yet he didn't seem phased by the attention—or her purposely frosty tone.

Joan moved to a vacant chair but Shelia stepped closer to Harper. Her voice was soft but firm. ‘You've met my son, Luke? I was so excited when he showed me the brochure for this class. I've always wanted to be more adept at DIY, but unfortunately I have a medical condition that doesn't enable me to drive, so Luke kindly offered to be my chauffeur for the week. I hope you don't mind him sitting at the back of the class?'

What?
Every muscle in Harper's body screamed no.

‘I'm afraid I can't allow that,' she said. ‘It will put the other students off. The whole point of this class is the male-free environment, which allows women to pursue new skills without the constraints they might normally experience learning through other channels.' She sounded formal, like she was reciting her brochure. Looking round the class, she struggled to see agreement on the faces of the women. Come on, sisters, she thought. Doing it for yourselves?

But all she could see was admiration, as they openly stared at Luke, two younger women with their tongues bouncing off the floor.

Luke spoke for the first time. ‘I'm sorry if it's a problem, but Mum has to follow the doctor's orders. I'll take my newspaper and duck up the back. You won't even know I'm here.'

Oh yes I will.
He was impossible to miss and even more impossible to forget.

‘How do the rest of you feel about having Shelia's son here today?' Harper asked, unable to even say his name out loud for fear she'd give herself away. She wore her stern teacher face in the hope they'd get the message.

‘That's fine', ‘Okay', ‘No worries' echoed back from the class.

Damn
.
Really?
She threw her hands in the air and with a jerky nod in Luke's direction indicated her reluctant assent. She'd rather pull out clumps of her own hair than teach with Luke in the room, she thought, as she beckoned Shelia towards the empty seat beside Joan. But if she threw Luke out on his jean-clad butt he might take his relatives—her paying clients—too.

Holy crap it was going to be a long morning.

True to his word, Luke ducked into the window seat off to the side, at the back of the classroom. With a deep breath Harper began her introduction. But it was very distracting. She could hear the newspaper every time he turned a page, and his large brown boots poked out into the room. Did he really have to keep crossing and uncrossing his legs like that? Couldn't the dratted man sit still for a single second?

Focus. She needed to retain focus. It was no different to any other situation in which her work might be observed. If anything, it would make her session better, as her nerves racked up a notch and adrenaline kicked in. She worked best under pressure.

‘Today's session will partly involve you telling me a little about yourselves and your current projects,' she said to the class. ‘That way we can establish what direction you want to take this week and if there's anything in particular you want to learn.'

‘Everything,' said Shelia, eliciting a giggle from the class. ‘I know nothing.'

‘Hmm,' said Harper. ‘Let's talk about the reasons you all have for not doing any DIY in the past. Is it lack of skills? Lack of time?'
Or because you have a son who does everything for you?
She looked at the faces before her.

Slowly someone raised her hand.

‘Shoot,' said Harper. ‘We're all friends here.'

‘I've always been too afraid of doing a bad job,' the woman said. ‘Or making things worse than they already are.'

‘That's a common reason,' said Harper. ‘And the purpose of this class is to learn new skills, practise in a safe and sympathetic environment until you feel confident enough to try them at home and show your friends and family. It doesn't matter here if you stuff up. Everyone can make mistakes and not be judged.'

Except me, she thought irrationally. I know I'm being judged by Mr I-Run-My-Own-Construction-Company up the back of the room.

And the thought made her two parts crazy. She'd show him.

Harper handed out a list of topics she planned to cover in the class, then opened the floor for discussion. Wallpaper, furniture makeover and constructing a garden seat seemed to be key areas of interest and she mentally filed the information away.

‘Right,' she said, her neck stiff from her determination to not turn her head in Luke's direction. ‘To start with we are going to have a quick discussion about colour. Who's seen a colour wheel before?'

***

Luke gave the newspaper another shake. He'd stared at the page for ages, but still didn't know what the prime minister had said about the coming election, hadn't managed to grasp why the teacher's union had rejected the latest education policy initiatives, nor understood why farmers were concerned about another mid-summer drought.

He considered himself a well-informed citizen most days, but today he didn't much care who'd done what or what they'd said about it. Not while Harper's voice had him utterly transfixed. He couldn't see her, tucked away behind the newspaper as he was. Not that it mattered. In his mind's eye he saw her petite form in tight, faded jeans and flat, tan boots. A clean shirt, tucked in and belted with a leather belt. He could imagine her moving around the classroom, her hips swaying with every step. Her face would be animated, her facial expressions revealing as she spoke to the women in her low, throaty voice.

He gave up on the newspaper, closed his eyes and just listened. It didn't matter what she said. She could be reciting the world's most boring instruction manual. Her voice had a rhythm, a cadence about it that made him tune out to everything but the sound of her. He imagined her leaning towards him, her lips pursed close, the caress of her breath on his ear as she whispered her words only to him.

He ached to touch her and he gripped the newspaper so hard his thumb ripped through the newsprint, the tearing noise dragging him back to reality. He peeked round the edge of the paper.

Up the front of the class Harper paused for a second at the sound before continuing on in a firm, authoritative manner. She inspired confidence, thought Luke.

Every eye in the room was on Harper. The women listened intently, concentrating hard on her words. He watched her too, sneakily, until a strong awareness of his beating heart drove him back behind the daily news.

In a plastic world, Harper was so real, so unique; a breath of the freshest summer breeze. She had Luke hooked. And the realisation of how much he liked her didn't frighten him at all. It was a new sensation for him but one he was ready to embrace. He wanted to romance her. Shower her with gifts, flowers and compliments. She needed someone to take care of her. Fix her house, her car, her life. Keep her safe.

He could be that man. He just had to get her to
see
him.

Harper continued to talk. Papers rustled, as if the class were taking notes and every now and again a burble of laughter swept through the group. Then came the scraping of chairs and movement as people got up and moved en masse. More hilarity. Harper's voice. This time with a trace of laughter. Luke wanted to be part of it.

He folded the paper and stood up. All heads turned and Harper came to an abrupt halt, mid-sentence.

‘I'm sorry to interrupt, but it's time for Mum to take her pills.'

‘Oh. Right. There's a tap in the storeroom if you need water,' said Harper, indicating a door off to the side of the room.

Shelia, a questioning look in her eye, followed Luke into the storeroom and closed the door quietly after her.

‘What are you doing?' she whispered. ‘You're making me look like a fool. Surely I can remember to take my own pills.'

‘If you had pills to take, I'm sure you'd remember to take them. But have you remembered the reason we're here?'

‘Because I want to redecorate my house?'

‘No, because I want to spend time with Harper. That's why we're here. You haven't forgotten our prime objective already have you?'

‘Course not. Course not.' Shelia spoke hurriedly, not quite meeting Luke's eye. ‘It's just that she's so interesting and she makes it seem so—so doable. As if even a sixty-year-old woman who's never lifted a tool in her life could learn to decorate her own home. And it sounds such fun.'

‘You're going to be no help to me at all.'

Shelia laughed and patted him on the arm. ‘Well, I got your foot in the door. The rest's up to you.'

Luke tiptoed back to his window seat, resigned to another frustrating hour of fantasising to the sound of Harper's voice.

At some point he must have dozed off. He awoke with a start, opening his eyes to see Harper kicking the sole of his boot. The room behind her was eerily silent.

‘Class over then?' he asked.

‘We finished a little early. No one could concentrate over the sound of the snores coming from the back of the room.' She gave him another little kick.

‘My mother's so embarrassing. I hope you sent her out for that.'

‘I sent them all out so I could talk to you alone.'

Luke sat up. ‘I'm all yours.'

Harper pursed her lips. ‘I don't know why you came today. I'm happy your mother and aunt are joining the class but I don't think it's appropriate for you to be here. It's too distracting.'

‘You can't concentrate with me around, huh? I'll take that as a good thing.'

‘You won't take it as anything at all. This is a women-only class, so unless you suddenly grow breasts and a vagina you have no place here. I'm sorry your mother is unable to drive at the moment, but maybe next time drop her off at the gate and come back at the end of the session.'

‘I worry about her. She's had a few health scares and I don't like her doing too much. She probably shouldn't be taking this class at all, but she insisted. She's better off letting me take care of her.'

Okay, maybe the health stuff was a big fat lie, but the rest of it was one hundred per cent true. Shelia did not need to be learning DIY at her age. Frankly, Luke thought it was ridiculous.

‘Again—' Harper said ‘—not your decision. Your mother showed a lot of enthusiasm today and clearly wants to learn. You should respect that and encourage her to go for it. God knows I wish my mother was open-minded enough to learn to look after herself.' Harper's lips clamped shut and she walked away.

Luke waited a moment before stepping towards her. Harper was up the front of the room cleaning the whiteboard. She turned and shot him an angry look over her shoulder as he approached.

‘Sorry,' he said. And actually meant it. ‘I know I'm pretty heavy on my feet and I have been told in the past I snore. I shouldn't have disrupted your class.'

She kept wiping, even though the board was clean.

‘And I realise I'm not a woman and have no place here, but maybe I could help out. I have great carpentry skills and I can lend you any tools you need for your classes, save you any hire costs you might have for equipment.'

Harper's hand slowed, then stopped. He saw her inhale before she turned.

She stared up at him. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest rose and fell in a most distracting way. His gaze dropped to a thin silver chain around her neck. A tiny hammer pendant was just visible as she leaned forward. It hung in the V above her breasts, drawing his eye and stealing his breath away.

‘I don't need help.' She didn't raise her voice, but he felt its strength. ‘From you or anyone else. This is my business, my class. Mine alone. You toe the line, sit quietly at the back of the classroom or I will kick you out so hard your head will spin.'

But his head already spun.

Harper gripped the whiteboard eraser. She wished she knew how to handle Luke. She'd just given him a huge telling off and he was still smiling at her. Like she could do no wrong. And instead of really, really pissing her off, it gave her warm fuzzies she hadn't felt for a long time.

A
long
time.

He stood there before her saying, being, doing everything wrong—yet she liked him. All the women in the class had liked him too.

And she liked him
a lot
. Which brought her back to the warm fuzzy feeling that snaked through her whenever Luke was around. She had to clench everything, fists, teeth, those womanly bits she'd forgotten she had, just to stop herself melting in a tragic puddle at his feet. So wrong, because she wasn't the pathetic, puddling sort. She couldn't be. Two of them in one family was more than enough and Harper had made the conscious decision years ago to be the strong, independent one who never, ever, friggin' ever
needed
a man.

Could have a man if she wanted, yes.

But needed? Big fat negative no.

And it had become her catch cry. Her philosophy. Her mission statement as well as her mission. Men not required.

Do it yourself.

And if she didn't live the rule? All. Would. Be. Lost.

Luke didn't understand how important it was that the class was
female only
. Yet she felt she'd laboured the point enough already. What more could she possibly say?

‘The whole point of the girls-only thing—' she said it again ‘—is so they can ask daft questions. Often they know nothing. Nothing. “What's a wrench?” or “How do you make the ladder stand up?”'.