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I leaned in and spotted the moment he caught on that I was about to kiss him, heat flaring in his eyes and then his gaze dropping to my mouth. I pressed my lips to his, tasting him and his sweet pastry with the smooth hint of coffee. He answered me with the slow movement of his lips over mine and the brief, shallow stroke of his tongue—​just inside the seam of my lips. Hot, but keeping it appropriate for a public area. No frantic devouring or climbing onto his lap this time. Even so, my heart fluttered and my skin felt hot and achy, warmth seeping between my legs.

He broke off, his eyes dark and his forehead resting against mine for a second. Then he took a breath. “I think that kissing you is fast becoming my favorite new pastime.”

“Same,” I said a little breathlessly.

He cleared his throat, glancing around as if just remembering we were in a public market with people milling around everywhere. “Come on. Let’s do the rest of the stalls, then I’ll take you to be reunited with your Mini.”

23

Kerr

I FELT LIKE I was a bloody teenager again, stealing glances at Nisa as we drove over to Greg’s, my blood surging faster each time her eyes met mine and the extra oxygen being delivered to my brain heightening my senses. I was aware of every movement she made, every breath she took, every note of her scent.

This was not like me. I was a very considered person. I did not fall head over heels for someone. I dated, weighed up the pros and cons, and did things logically.

And look how that’s worked out for me so far.

My psyche had a good point. Being emotionally guarded may have prevented me from being cut too deeply when previous girlfriends left, but it sure as hell hadn’t stopped them from leaving in the first place. Perhaps putting my heart on the line was the way to go after all?

But then, when the inevitable happens, I’ll be eviscerated. I suppressed a shudder. The feeling I had when Mum left was not something I ever wanted to experience again. It was why I’d been so guarded in my relationships as an adult—​even in my friendships, if I was honest with myself. I always kept a little back. Didn’t fully rely on people. And I suppose I’d had good training for it, thanks to my relationship with my dad. I’d become an expert at burying my emotions, never allowing a trace of them to display outwardly.

We pulled up to Greg’s place, right on the outskirts of Inverglen. He and his family lived in a renovated farmhouse, and his garage was on-site in the old barn.

We climbed out of the car and went over to ring the doorbell, and I noticed Nisa shifting from one foot to the other. I reached for her hand. “All right?”

She took my hand gratefully. “Just a bit nervous.”

I raised an eyebrow. “How come?”

“Meeting your friends.”

I smiled. “But you’ve spoken to Greg on the phone already, about your car.”

“Yeah,” she said, as if stating the obvious. “But that was just business talk. Now I’m here with you, as your . . .” She trailed off. “I don’t know what. As more than your friend?”

She slid her gaze over to me, as if questioning whether we were more than friends.

“Pretty sure friends don’t kiss each other the way we’ve been doing,” I said gruffly.

She smiled, swinging our hands between us in a cutesy fashion, and I couldn’t help but chuckle.

The door opened, revealing a grinning Greg. “Hey there.” His gaze snagged on our held hands, and his eyes widened for a second. “Come on in.”

We passed him through the doorway into the farmhouse, each greeting him as we entered the hallway. It led right into a huge, open-​plan space, decorated in cream and beige with light pine furniture. On the right was a sitting area in front of a fire and a large TV screen above it. On the left and set back behind the entry to the stairs was the kitchen and dining area. And all along the back wall stood tall glass patio doors, letting in the last orangey wisps of the afternoon sun as it set beyond the fields. Simple white fairy lights filled a large glass jar on top of the dining table, and a real Christmas tree stood tall and full next to the patio, adorned with white and silver themed decorations.

“Oh my goodness,” Nisa said, gazing at the high-​beamed ceiling, mouth open in awe. “Your house is gorgeous, Greg.”

Looking pleased with himself, Greg gestured to follow him through to the kitchen. “Thank you. I designed it myself, and did a lot of the labor.”

“Here we go,” I said affectionately as we spotted Lynn putting on the kettle in the kitchen. “He loves boasting about this project.” Though he had every right to—​it was amazing.

Lynn turned, coming over to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Right? His favorite pastime is talking about himself.” She turned to Nisa. “You must be Nisa. I’m Lynn, Greg’s wife.”

Nisa gave Lynn a hug, and I could tell Lynn was a little taken aback, but in a good way. I realized that was my fault for painting Nisa as some sort of dragon over the past couple of years.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Lynn,” Nisa said. “I’m so grateful to Greg for fixing my little old Mini. She has such sentimental value. And what a beautiful home!” she exclaimed, gesturing around her.

Lynn beamed in a way that I recognized as someone absorbing the light and energy that Nisa naturally gave out wherever she went. It was like she fueled up those around her and, not for the first time, I wondered why on earth Drew had wanted to extinguish that. Tosser.