I dared to lift my eyes. Aiden was lining his boots up next to my shoes, and when he met my gaze, his grey eyes were soft. He wasn’t angry. Not at all.
I peeled myself off the wall and offered him a shaky smile. He accepted with a dip of his chin. Something about that simple movement always made my stomach twirl. Actually, everything about this man made my soul sing. My cheeks hot, I dropped my eyes back to our feet.
I clapped my hand over my mouth, trying to trap the laughter threatening to burst out.
Aiden’s eyebrows rose.
“Your socks,” I wheezed.
“My…” He followed my gaze to his feet. Pink socks with cartoon eggplants, peaches, and water droplets. A deep shade of red burned up his neck all the way to the tips of his ears. “Goddammit. Sorry, Lola. I forgot.” He rushed to tug the pink socks off and stuff them into his boots.
My chest shook with laughter. “Where did you get those?”
“Harry.” Frowning, he shook his head. “Another one of hishilariousChristmas gifts.”
“They actually are hilarious, you know.”
“Careful. You might end up on his Christmas list.” Aiden glanced around the hallway. “Where should I drop your groceries?”
“The kitchen’s this way. Follow me.”
And he did.
6
He Didn’t See Anything but Her
Aiden
Lola tossed a nervoussmile over her shoulder as she dashed through her living room. She straightened a pink woollen throw over the threadbare patches on the couch and snatched an empty glass from the only free spot on her coffee table not covered in jigsaw puzzle pieces.
“How’d that get there?” Her laugh was strained. “I promise my place isn’t always this messy.”
I loomed like an awkward lump in the hallway, but my eyebrows crept up. There was that word again.Messy. Lola sure was house-proud.
I’d never seen someone so worried about shoes before. She’d gotten herself all flustered. She still was. Her teeth had found a new home buried in her bottom lip. I’d bet that if she’d planned my visit better, she’d have cleaned every inch of the cottage until it sparkled.
I followed her down the hallway, taking a deep breath before heading into the gloom. Lola’s place wasn’t built for a man my size. I was a giant smashing through a doll’s house. My shoulders brushed close to the exposed brick walls, ancient beams so low I stooped to avoid knocking my head. The faint tick of a clock bouncing somewhere in another room didn’t help the anxiety coiled tight in my chest. Too many dark corners and close spaces stirred the ghosts in my mind.
But the tired old bones of the cottage were cosy, thanks to Lola’s personal touches. Lots of floral. A hell of a lot of pink. Warm. Welcoming. A lot like her, really.
I snuck a peek through the open door at the end of the hall. Lola’s bedroom. It had to be. The white comforter was folded down to reveal perfectly tucked pink sheets. I gulped. I’d had a lot of dishonourable thoughts about what I’d like to do with Lola on those sheets.
“Here’s the kitchen,” she squeaked.
I looked up, but my jaw dropped. A cooking bomb had gone off. Stacks of bowls and scattered ingredients covered the wooden countertop. A floury handprint marked the fridge.
Lola’s shoulders scrunched up to her ears. “I’m a free-spirited cook.”
My laugh seemed to ease her nerves. “You don’t say.” I scanned the chaos for a free spot to leave her groceries. “Busy breakfast this morning?”
“I baked some muffins to take over to Brooke’s place.”
I plucked a lonesome blob of purple off the chopping board. “Blueberry?” I popped it into my mouth.
“The best kind.”
“My favourite is apple.”
