Page 117 of The Bookshop By the Loch

“Thank goodness.” I breathed. “Right. The next thing on my list is to write the end of Celeste’s book.”

Tobias towered over me. “Well, before you do that, how about coming round to mine for a celebratory dinner?”

I gazed up into his chiselled face. It was as if I was struggling to think straight.

“And I can make a start on sketching you for your portrait.”

One of my hands shot up to my loose hair. “Tobias. I’m not ready.”

“What?”

“I’ve been busy all day and talk about putting myself through the wringer.”

“I know you have, but you still look lovely.”

Heat seeped up my neck. “Yeah right. I believe you. Thousands wouldn’t.”

Tobias arched one dark brow. “So, you’re going to turn down the opportunity to taste my legendary roast chicken?”

Oh no. Don’t do this to me.

I found myself wrapped up in his stare, unable to escape. In truth, I didn’t want to. I thought about Celeste, still trying to squeeze every moment out of life. Oh, bugger! It was a bite to eat and an opportunity for Tobias to paint me. That was all. “Yes,” I heard myself say. “That sounds delicious.”

The roast chicken was succulent and the roast potatoes were golden and crisp. Not content with a swathe of vegetables, Tobias also added a huge Yorkshire pudding to each of our plates.

When I’d finished eating, I felt like my stomach had ballooned to three times its normal size. That would look good in my portrait.

I said as much to Tobias, who kept a straight face as he said, “Don’t worry. I can always get a bigger canvas.”

I picked up one of his monochrome cushions and pretended to throw it at him, which elicited a wicked smile.

We cleared away the dinner plates, stacked them in his dishwasher and were now nursing cups of delicious smelling Italian coffee.

Tobias fetched a large sketch pad and pencils from his makeshift studio in another room. He arranged me on his sofa. “Now, please try not to move. Do you mind if I play some music while I sketch you?”

“Of course not.”

Tobias ordered his Alexa to play “Life Eternal” by Ghost. The haunting, heart-wrenching lyrics swam around me.

He sat himself down in an armchair opposite me. His pencils began to skitter across the white, blank page as he looked up at me and then dropped his gaze again, to concentrate.

I sneaked my coffee cup from the table in front of me and took a few quick gulps. The combination of the music and being in such close proximity to Tobias was making my heart quicken. “I wonder how things went with Corinne?” I muttered to him out of the corner of my mouth.

“I’m sure she’ll ring you.” He shook his head, as he studied the shape of my face. He dropped his eyes again to sketch. “Now, stop worrying about other people for once and concentrate on yourself.”

I reached out and picked up the coffee again for another speedy mouthful. Tobias was looking with a critical eye at what he’d drawn so far. He didn’t realise I was admiring him.

His thick arched brows were fixed in concentration and his inky lashes jutted forward as he looked down at his sketching.

I raised my coffee cup to my lips. “So, how do you work? With your sketching and painting, I mean?”

“I try to capture the likeness of a person, or their essence. Simple and bold.” He flicked me a look and I tried not to dissolve in a puddle. His hand danced across the pad, the pencil moving this way and that.

“And when do you start painting a portrait?”

“When I’m satisfied that I’ve got my subject how I want them.”

Another intense, dark look at me, which made me swallow. Was he doing this on purpose? If so, it was working.