Page 36 of A Winter Wish

He shook his head and she thought she heard the tiniest snort of laughter. “You did not say that.”

“No, OK, I didn’t, but I think it was implied by the incredulous look on my face.”

He turned as they reached the top of the stairs. “Feeling extra sassy today, are we?”

She wrinkled her nose. “No one has ever described me as sassy. I’m easygoing.” There was a pause in which he gave her a look, and she sighed. “Just not with you, apparently.”

“Not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult.”

“Whatever your evil villain heart desires.”

OK, that was definitely a laugh. A small one, one he tried to hide—but still a laugh. It made her smile a little in response.

Then he cocked his head, and the way he looked at her made her remember all too clearly the way he’d looked in that hallway in France, just before they’d kissed. Don’t go there, Lexie.

“Isn’t the villain dependent on whose point of view the story is told from?”

Lexie lifted her gaze to meet his. “So I’m the villain, not you?”

“I guess that remains to be seen.” He no longer seemed distracted. Instead he was a little too focused as he looked at her.

She cleared her throat, looking around for something else to say. “So. What’s in Ireland, then?”

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, there are a lot of green fields, some beautiful cliffs by the coast, and some excellent pubs, if you know where to look.”

She just about stopped herself from rolling her eyes this time. “You know what I mean. How come Ange thought you’d be in a bad mood?”

He considered her for a moment, and she thought he’d tell her to drop it, that it was too personal. Which might have been fair enough, given how well they knew each other. Instead he said, “How about we make a trade?”

“A trade?”

“I’ll tell you what’s in Ireland, if you tell me one of your wishes.”

Lexie frowned. “What?”

“You know, the ones you put in your jar thing. At Christmas.”

Lexie’s frown grew deeper. “Why do you want to know?”

“It’s an evil villain thing,” he said, very seriously. “We have to know what people’s wishes are, so that we can stop them coming true.”

It got a surprised snort of laughter from her, and she swore his eyes lightened at the sound of it. And because he’d made her laugh, because he seemed pleased to have made her laugh, she caved. “When I was thirteen, I wished my hair would grow purple naturally.”

It was an easy wish to offer him. She’d wanted so badly to dye it, but her mum had refused. By that time, Lexie had stopped taking the wishes so seriously—both because she was older, and because her belief in the tradition had been marred. But there had been a part of her that still secretly hoped the wish might come true—because her mum wouldn’t have been able to do anything if her hair had just grown like that.

“Why are your lips twitching?” she demanded.

“It’s called a smile, Lex.”

“Maybe you ought to look in a mirror before making that claim,” she tossed back. But he only smiled more widely.

Then he blew out a breath, his expression shuttering in that way he had. “My parents are in Ireland.” He turned to open the door, gestured into the flat before she could ask any more. “Shall we?”

Chapter Fifteen

“So the only other thing left to discuss is the Madrid trip,” Ange said, flicking a page in her notebook, pen in hand as she took minutes. Ange and Theo were sitting on the sofa, with Harry squished between them, and Mike and Lexie were in the two armchairs facing each other over the rug on the wooden floors. What did they ever do if there were more than five of them in a meeting? Lexie wondered. Apparently Harry often stayed downstairs to mind the shop, but they’d closed it up for this meeting so that he could join.

The flat was so tidy, it was almost like no one lived here. She thought she was a master at living light, but apparently Theo was too, if the sparse bookshelf was anything to go by. Unless he kept all his clutter somewhere else. In his bedroom, maybe. Not that she was thinking about his bedroom.