Page 26 of How to Find a Romance in a Bookshop

“And you managed to insult her without even saying anything,” Ross marveled. “Truly, this is your superpower.”

“Actually, I did speak,” Petra admitted. “I followed up the eye roll with something about kids not knowing how to behave because the parents don’t have a clue either. He was being a little monster; she should have been intervening.”

“Way to keep digging,” Ross said, amazed. “And you can’t make the grandparents take the rap, to be fair.”

“Yes, I can!” insisted Petra. “This is generational misbehavior. It was probably her bad parenting that’s made bad parents. She’s totally responsible.”

Ross cocked his head disbelievingly.

“Just speaking the truth as I find it,” Petra insisted sulkily.

“Like I said,” Ross replied, placating now, “it’s your superpower. Never change.”

Petra grunted. The superpower thing was a matter of opinion. She herself had discovered there was little enthusiasm for straight-talking.

“What are you doing tomorrow night?” he asked, as they both contentedly gazed into the flames.

“Friday? Hanging out with you here in front of the fire?” Petra hazarded, passing him the chocolate hobnobs. “Unless you’ve got other, exciting plans?”

“I do, actually.”

“Gosh, good for you,” said Petra, trying not to feel miffed. It was Friday night, after all. People were allowed to have other plans, and kicking back with your friends—okay, your one solitary friend—eating chocolate biscuits and chatting about stupid things she had said wasn’t the most thrilling prospect in the world. Although she personally couldn’t think of anything better.

“But you’re not doing anything?” Ross persisted. “Even on Valentine’s Day?”

Of course, Petra thought. It wasn’t that she totally didn’t know what the date was—she had just done the Valentine’s Day window display—but the whole concept of romance felt very distant from her own life. Irrelevant, in fact.

“Sadly, no one is—what’s the expression?—‘laying siege’ to me currently,” she told him. “Thank you for asking—and for making me feel like a loser, by the way.”

“You’re welcome. ‘Laying siege’? Seriously?”

“Yeah, whatever . . . it’s been a while,” she admitted. “I’m not up with the terminology. So anyhow, what have you got lined up? I want to know everything about your hot date.” Petra was frankly astonished. Ross never mentioned seeing anyone else around Portneath, let alone a girlfriend. Or boyfriend, obviously, although she had never had those vibes from him.

“I thought it was about time I cooked you supper,” he told her, grinning as if he was reading her mind.

Petra tried to wipe her face of all expression. “What? You mean I’m your ‘hot date’?” The second the words blurted their way out of her mouth, without the slightest liaison with her brain, she felt like curling into a tiny ball right there on the carpet.

“God, no,” Ross exclaimed, apparently equally discomfited.

Well, this was excruciating.

“I mean, I didn’t even know you could cook,” Petra burbled on, eager to put words—any words—between her and her faux pas.

“Maybe I can’t,” Ross said, seemingly equally keen to move the conversation on. “You can be the judge of that tomorrow. You’re not a vegetarian or anything? Although it’s fine if you are . . .”

“You’ve seen me eat a bacon sandwich,” she reminded him.

“Oh yeah, so I have,” he admitted. “Although some vegetarians make the exception for bacon.”

“Because that’s a thing,” said Petra scathingly. “But—yes—I eat everything, thank you for asking. What can I bring?”

“Just yourself. Seven o’clock?” he said, getting up to leave, seemingly delighted to shrug his way into his coat and keen to escape before anything else happened.

“Oh no, I’ve just realized, I can’t!” burst out Petra.

His face fell for a moment. “Yeah, no, of course . . .” he said automatically. And then, tilting his head in confusion “Why?”

“Because I don’t know where you live, dumbo.”