Thanks to everyone that's still reading and reviewing :)
Sometime later…
She wakes early and is trying to cajole herself out of bed when she is forced to by the sound of her doorbell, dazed and disorientated at the thought of who might be ringing it at this hour.
When she answers it, a man in a gold and beige polo neck and an unusually bright smile is standing there, gift wrapped box in one hand, and clipboard in the other.
"Sign please," he sing songs.
"Er."
"Ruth Evershed?" he chirps, to a similar melody. She feels like punching him just for being so chirpy at this hour, but the twinkling of a shiny ribbon reminds her that she should just smile back and be gracious.
"Yes."
"Then sign please."
She grabs the pen and literally drags it back and forth in the box, her eyes still bleary and her body still a little uncoordinated.
He wishes her a wonderful day, and she pads back inside and curls up on the sofa with her newly acquired box and an old fleecy blanket.
"What do you think I've got then, Fidg'?" she asks, to the cat that crept in while she was at the door. "Hmm, what's in here?"
He meows loudly, more than anything because he wants feeding, and she tickles it under the chin with her fluffy-socked foot. "Yes, I know, Mummy should open it; then she'd know."
He cocks his head, looks at her, and walks off, leaving her to untie the thick brown and gold ribbons without an audience. Slowly, she slides off the wrapping and lifts the thick, gloss cardboard lid and beneath it are the perfectly wrapped shapes of 100 red foil hearts. She smiles, and runs her finger over their uneven forms.
Her phone rings and, immediately, she knows it will be him and then wonders just how specific a time Harry had made the people at Thornton's commit to and, more worryingly, what leverage he used to get them to carry it through.
"They're lovely," she sighs, in place of saying hello.
"I'm glad you think so," he murmurs, seductively, and her stomach flutters in response.
"What's the occasion?" she asks, and then wonders if perhaps she's just ruined the romance of it all.
She's greeted with a chuckle down the line followed by his amused voice. "I knew you wouldn't remember," he informs her and she can picture the exact look of smugness on his face.
"Are you going to enlighten me, then?" she asks, hopefully, despite knowing that he won't.
"No, I think I'll leave you to think it over whilst you get ready for work."
"Insufferable man," she huffs, teasingly, and enjoys his answering laughter.
"Good job you love me, really, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is, now leave me alone so I can get dressed for work."
"Ok, see you soon," he replies.
"Harry?" she says, totally serious all of a sudden.
"Yes, Ruth?"
"I love you," she says, softly, and it makes him smile.
"I love you too, sweetheart." He ends the call and stares at the phone for a moment, replaying the sound of her voice in his head. He chuckles to himself as he wonders how long it'll take her to work the date out.
--
"Figured it out yet?" he murmurs, directly in to her ear, as she helps herself to some water from the cooler.
She takes a moment to enjoy the way his warm breath washes over her ear before she turns to face him. "I have, actually," she informs him, triumphantly, and briefly touches her hand to his chest and smoothes his tie down. "You're an old romantic, Harry Pearce."
He's glad that it's still early enough for it to be just the two of them and takes advantage of it by unexpectedly pinning her against the wall. "Less of the old, thank you very much," he growls, good naturedly, and she feels her heart skip a beat.
"Or else?"
"I won't take you out for dinner to celebrate," he counters, immediately, thoroughly enjoying their flirtation.
"You don't have to," she tells him, seriously, and he raises an eyebrow at her in question. "You can come to mine and I'll cook."
"If you prefer," he answers, with a smile. He's not bothered where they go as long as they're together.
"I do. After all, it is our one month anniversary," she whispers, playfully, before leaning up and catching him off guard with a fleeting kiss, "and I think I'd like you all to myself."
"Are you mocking me, Miss Evershed?"
"Wouldn't dream of it, Harry," she replies, airily, and he can't help but laugh. He loves how comfortable they are with each other now and is so thankful that they found their way to one another eventually.
"Glad to hear it," he growls, lowly, and gives her a smouldering look.
"Don't you have work to be doing?" she asks, cheekily, when he still hasn't moved a few minutes later. She's aware of the time and knows he has a meeting with the other Section Heads shortly.
"Yes, I'm a very busy and important man," he informs her and puffs his chest out a little bit for effect, which makes her giggle, "but I've always got time for you." His words are delivered with a soft smile and her stomach flip flops at the absolute sincerity of his tone and the love shining in his eyes.
"I'm very glad about that," she whispers and reaches up to squeeze his bicep, gently, before turning and walking back to her desk. She feels his eyes on her as she crosses the Grid and smiles happily to herself; it's turning out to be a wonderful day.
--
She leaves work a little early, catching his eye across the office, the unspoken understanding that she is leaving to get ready.
When she gets home, she rifles through her wardrobe. She has always made an effort where he's concerned, ever since she can remember, but since they've officially become an item, it seems to have become harder and harder to dress herself without over analysing everything about the outfit. Tonight is no exception and she feels some kind of unspoken expectation that tonight will be perfect, especially after the wonderful way the day started.
She leafs through a rather unused end of her wardrobe, fingers running over dresses she's never worn or haven't seen daylight in far too long. She finds the one she has in mind, a deep, dark red wrap over dress which falls to the knee, and holds it up for inspection. He's never seen her in anything close to this, and she's very aware of that fact; she knows it will emphasise her décolletage, her waist, her hips, and just imagining the way she knows he will look at her makes a tingle run down her spine. She wonders if the sudden change will be too much, too obvious, though, and wonders if he will read more into the provocation of her outfit than she intends. She stares at the dress some more, as if doing so might reveal some miraculous answer, but it doesn't. She thinks about the alternative choices, but she wants something different from the usual mix and match combo of pretty blouses or fitted tops, nice skirts or smart jeans, and eventually commits herself to removing the hanger from the dress and laying the material on the bed next to a pair of black opaque tights and a long necklace.
Outfit organised she heads downstairs and starts to prepare their food, wondering if she has enough time to have a soak in the bath whilst the lasagne is cooking. She convinces herself she does and heads back upstairs the second the pasta is in the oven. She's humming to herself as she flits back and forth between her bedroom and the bathroom and catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she is messily pinning her hair up. She smiles at the happy and carefree woman in the glass and reflects that she has rarely seen herself looking so content. He has a lot to answer for, she thinks, and at some point she'll make sure to thank him properly for it.
Get your minds out of the gutter, we don't mean she'll be thanking him like *that*!
More soon...