Page 64 of Brighter Together

“Thank you.” Tommy rests a hand lightly against my lower back. “This is Ms Grange.”

The concierge’s gaze flicks briefly towards me.

Not nosy.

Professional.

But I’m suddenly very aware of Tommy’s hand.

And of the fact that the booking probably makes it perfectly clear we have separate rooms.

“I hope you enjoy your stay, Ms Grange.”

“Thank you.”

Tommy’s hand stays where it is as we cross towards reception.

I tell myself not to read too much into it.

After the conversation in the car this morning, that becomes significantly harder.

Manchester is research.

Compatibility research.

I still can’t believe we actually called it that.

The woman at reception checks us in and explains that we’ve both been upgraded to junior suites.

Tommy frowns immediately. “We booked standard rooms.”

“I know, Mr Atkinson. Mr Davies arranged the upgrades personally.”

Tommy exhales through his nose.

“Michael Davis is an old friend and CEO here,” he explains to me as we follow the porter towards the lift. “And apparently incapable of accepting that I don’t need a suite for one night.”

“You’re complaining about a free upgrade?”

“I’m complaining about unnecessary expense.”

“You’re not paying for it.”

“That isn’t the point.”

“Lord Grumpiness has arrived in Manchester.” I smile.

His eyes narrow.

“Careful.”

The threat has absolutely no weight behind it anymore.

Which is a shame.

I rather liked winding him up when I thought he disliked me.

But then, now I know what happens when I wind him up enough.