Oliver looked as though he might have quite a bit of it. His forearms were thickly-haired and there was a small tuft of hair poking over the top of his shirt.
I opened the studio door and Oliver carried the canvases in.
“Just put them over there,” I said, pointing. “Against the wall. I’ll unwrap them later.”
“You’re an artist,” he said, looking around the room.
I laughed. “Right first time.”
He laughed. His teeth, perfect. His smile, one that lit up his whole face.
“Sorry about before,” he said.
I furrowed my brow. “Before?”
“When I looked over the gate and you were…”
He left the sentence hanging. We both knew what I was…
“If it wasn’t a problem for you then it isn’t a problem for me,” I said.
He walked back towards the door and stopped in front of me.
“It definitely wasn’t a problem for me,” he said, his smile growing. “I did go to the front door first, you know.”