‘I’m a giver too.’
‘Well, that’s us screwed.’
Ginny burst out laughing.
Will raised his palms in defence. ‘But just so you know, I promise to never oppress you.’
‘Good. So you’ll eat the breakfast I serve you.’
‘I’ll always eat the breakfast you serve me, and I won’t say a word about it.’
Ginny smiled. ‘You are allowed to compliment the chef.’
‘You look beautiful.’
He’d caught her off guard again, and she cursed the blush creeping up her neck.
‘I meant the food,’ she said quietly.
‘Can I ask, why do you dress that way? I’ve never met anyone with that look.’
Ginny glanced at her vintage top and dark skirt. ‘I feel comfortable.’ There wasn’t more she wanted to add. Not feeling as though she belonged anywhere in life made it easier for her to pretend she belonged somewhere else.
‘You look as if you time travel.’
‘Ooh, I’m sure there are women today who like deep-red lipstick.’ She pouted to emphasize her lips.
‘There are blokes that like it too. And I definitely like it on you.’
Ginny laughed.
Will pointed at her hair. ‘I like the headscarves you wear as well.’
Ginny reached up, catching her finger between the plum material and her pin curls. ‘What’s your style called?’
‘Comfy and cheap. But if you’d prefer, whenever I’m walking out with you, I can slip on a tank top or whatever it was the gentlemen of that time wore.’
‘Walking out with me?’
‘That’s what they called it.’
Ginny held back a laugh. ‘I think that meant going out with each other, you know, like dating.’
He stared at her for a while, and she couldn’t figure out what he was thinking. ‘What should we call it?’ he said, finally.
Was that her cue to label whatever it was they had? There was no way she was holding that weight. What if she got it wrong and embarrassed herself? He was still quietly waiting, chewing on a biscuit and acting rather laid-back about the question hanging between them.
Ginny swallowed hard, hoping he didn’t notice. She had to say something. ‘Road trip buddies.’
His eyes dipped to his tea as he grinned. ‘I’ll take that.’
She went to add more but the door opened and an old lady entered in need of a food parcel.
‘Hello, Mrs Banks. I’ll put some extra tins of chicken soup in for you, shall I?’ Ginny smiled at Will as she got up, then introduced him to the local resident while getting him to unfold a cardboard box.
‘Ooh, is that biscuits I see?’ said Mrs Banks.
Will waved her towards a chair. ‘Yep, and how about a nice cuppa to go with them? There’s a bit of a nip in the air out there, eh?’
