“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says stiffly.
“Fine. Lie to me.” My eyes skate over him. “Tell me you didn’t settle Nora’s vet fees.”
“It was merely an accounting decision.”
“Whatever the reason, thank you. It came at a good time.”
“The balance—”
I hold up my hand. “I get it. Nora gets it when you get it. The house, I mean.”
“Precisely.”
I turn back to the window and realize we’re not heading in the direction of the hotel. “Where are we going?”
“Just to Mayfair.”
Mayfair. Another of London’s fancy boroughs. “Want to tell me why?”
“We have an appointment.”
“Wedo?” I ask, half-amused. “Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Huh.” I flop back against the buttery leather, suddenly disconcerted. “Just pointing out the obvious here—I’m kind of a mess.” Messy bun, messy black jeans and T-shirt, and a cardigan covered in dog hair.
“Hmm.” Oliver’s eyes run over me critically. “Actually, it might be a problem. You seem to be dressed like a burglar.” He smiles to take the sting out of his word, but I am dressed head to toe in black.Apart from the dog hair.“All that’s missing is a balaclava.” His gaze slides over my hair. “With hair like that, you’d be caught in no time.”
It’s hard to ignore what is clearly a compliment. I try anyway.
“Thief or not, you can’t go wrong with black. Except when you’re dealing with white dogs,” I add, plucking at stubborn, wiry hair.
“I like to see you in green,” he murmurs. “Like the dress you wore to dinner.”
“The one with pockets?”
“Yes, the pockets. Perhaps that’s why I liked it so much.”
Pleasure bursts inside me. His compliments. His words. The little in-jokes we’re having. Until I remind myself I can’t trust any of it.
“It would be very impractical for a day at Nora’s.”
“But perfect for greeting me at the door, a smile on your face and a martini in your hand.”
“How very 1950s of you. Also, dream on,” I add as his lips quirk. I ignore my phone as it buzzes.
“Oh, I do. I dream of all kinds of things.”
My heart skips, then stutters.He doesn’t dream of this being real.
“Nora told me Mitch turned up at the sanctuary this week.” The words tumble in a panic from my mouth.
“Oh?” He reaches for my hand, and I recognize his response as a stalling tactic. “Did she say anything about his visit?”
“Just that she threatened to sic Lamb Chop on him.”
“Lamb Chop?”
