They were sitting so close to each other that he could see her lips trembling, the rise and fall of her chest. He saw one tear dribble out. He lifted his hand and wiped it carefully away with his thumb. Evie bit her lip.
Oh, God.
He slid his hand into her hair and she leaned slightly towards him.
Their lips were only inches apart now. He loved her skin, the shape of her cheek, the feel of her hair. He leaned further towards her. He wanted to taste her again, learn the shape of her body again. He wanted a repeat of that night in Vegas, except sober.
She turned her head towards his. They were going to kiss. This had been building for years, really. He moved a little closer.
Evie sighed and parted her lips.
And then very suddenly pulled away from him.
And, Christ, rightly so. She had a boyfriend apart from anything else.
He let go of her and drew back and she shook her head and fumbled for the door handle behind her.
She practically fell out of the car in her hurry to get out.
‘Goodnight,’ she said. ‘And thank you again.’
Dan sat and watched until she was safely inside her front door and then smacked a palm to his forehead. What the hell had that been? Again, she had a boyfriend, for Christ’s sake. If you had a partner, you didn’t kiss someone else. And you didn’t kiss someone – however briefly – who you knew had a partner. That moment had almost become something that they’d both said they’d never do. God.
He wasn’t going to be giving Evie a lift anywhere again in a hurry. Far too intimate. There was something about him and Evie in a car together.
Eighteen
Then – Christmas 2019
Evie
Bloody London. Bloody car. Bloody British Rail. Bloody Christmas bloody presents. Bloody bloody everything.
Obviously, some might say that Evie should have checked that her car would start before she’d spent one and a halfbloodyhours traipsing backwards and forwards between her flat and the car parked two roads away in thebloodydrizzle with bags-for-life full of presents and stuffing all those presents into the car. But it had never broken down before.
Obviously, if she hadn’t got a parking ticket last time she double-parked outside her flat shewouldhave tried to start the car before she filled it to the brim with presents and suitcases, because she’d have tried to drive it round to the flat, and then she’d have found out sooner that the engine was just going to splutter over and over again during the dozens of times she turned the key in the ignition, sometimes coming tantalisingly close to making a proper revving sound, but never actually starting.
And,obviously, if she’d known she was going to break down on the twenty-third of December when all seats on all trains to anywhere near the Cotswolds were booked solid other than a few incredibly expensivefirst-class ones, she would either have booked a reasonably priced seat a long time ago or gone for premium car breakdown cover.
But she hadnotchecked and shehadfilled the car and there was no chance of anyone coming to fix the car fordays, if notweeks, and she did not have an affordable train ticket andwhat was she going to do? She didn’t want to spend Christmas by herself in London. She didn’t want to spendallher disposable income for the next six weeks on one return train ticket for a ninety-mile journey. If she did manage to go, shedidwant to take all the presents she’d bought for her mum and Autumn and everyone else. And some clothes and toiletries. So cycling wasn’t an option even if she was fit enough to cycle all that way and even owned a bloody bike.
What was she going to do?
Coach. There were coaches.
She got her phone out and googled. No. There were no seats on any coaches to anywhere vaguely near home before the twenty-seventh.
She really wanted to stamp her foot.
She did stamp it. Ow, ow, ouch. She’d stamped it far too hard. Owwwwww. Now she’d probably broken a metatarsal or something. Ow.
Right. Deep, deep breaths. First she was going to text Sasha and her mum and tell them that she would not be joining them for the Melting Bishop Christmas tree walk at 2 p.m. today, and then she was going to unpack the car and while she unpacked she was going to try to think of a solution.
A message from her mum pinged through just after she’d lugged her third lot of presents back into the flat.
Everything will be fine. Going to work something out and will come and get you by car by end of today. WE WILL RESCUE YOU. Love you. LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU LATER xxx
Evie sniffed. Shereallywanted to get home today and even though she was going to be twenty-eight tomorrow she was going to have to lether wonderful mum do a big round trip to London and rescue her.
