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“You mean that?” Eva asked softly, toying with the belt on her dressing gown.

“Of course I do. If that will help you to settle in, then it’s a very small price to pay. Plus, I promised to show you around, and something tells me you’ll want to go in there anyway.” I shot her a smile and turned on the grill to start cooking. “Anything else you want with this breakfast?”

She walked over and cast her gaze over what I had. “Baked beans.”

“That’s it? Not tomatoes or mushrooms?”

“Toast,” she added with a resolute nod.

“Are you going to eat all that?”

“You’d be surprised what I can eat.” She grinned, picking up her apple juice.

I stared at her.

Eva laughed, throwing her head back. “Come on. Pass that bacon over, and let’s cook. I’m hungry, and I want my new easel.”

• • •

“This is adorable,” Eva said, looking around with a smile. “Look how colourful it is!”

I smiled, casting my gaze around Stoneheadnton. It was a classic little Welsh village—the rows of houses and shops were all terraced and painted in different colours, decorated with pretty awnings and colourful flowerboxes on the front windows. It was a rainbow of blues and greens and pinks and yellows, and even though the weather was dreary and miserable, threatening rain, there was something about the colours that meant it could never be grim here.

People stopped to talk in clusters, occasionally stepping just into the road or against the wall to let someone pass. Everyone knew everyone, and greetings were thrown about in both Welsh and English.

“I had a feeling you might like it here,” I said as she paused and looked in a window of a little antique shop. “That’s Bethan Parry’s shop. She always has something for everyone, and if she doesn’t have it, you can bet your arse she’ll find it.”

“Can we go in and take a look?”

“Of course.” I got the door and held it open for her. She slipped into the store, and I swore I heard a tiny gasp escape her, but she disappeared into the maze of antiques before I could even close the door.

Right.

Where the bloody hell had she gone?

She poked her head around the side of a unit and looked at me. “Are you coming or what?”

Good Lord, I could lose the woman in here.

I chuckled and followed her. Unsurprisingly, she’d homed in on the selection of art, and was darting back and forth like a little squirrel. I suspected the same effect could be achieved by putting a hungry kid in a sweet shop, but it was an awful lot funnier with an adult woman.

“Are you all right?” I mused, watching her bounce on the balls of her feet.

“I love this place.” She turned and ran her fingers along the back of a brown leather Queen Anne chair. “It’s all so pretty.”

“Choose something,” I said, walking up next to her.

She met my gaze. “What?”

“Choose something. Something you like. We’ll find a place for it at home.”

Eva slowly looked around. “I can’t,” she said, even as her eyes lit up as the prospect. “I can’t choose anything here. It’s antique. It’s expensive.”

“Not as expensive as you might think. Not here,” I replied slowly. “But even still, I promised you that we could make it feel a little more like home for you, so choose something you like.”

“Oh. I… um…” She trailed off, looking around.

“Think of it as a wedding gift.”

“Matthew! I thought I heard your voice!”

I turned and smiled at the owner, Bethan. “Bethan! I haven’t seen you in a while. How was your trip?”

“Oh, it was wonderful. My grandson is just the sweetest little thing, and they seem to have settled quite well down south,” she replied, clasping her hands to her chest. “I hear you’ve been busy.”

“Ah, yes. Bethan, this is my wife, Eva.” I touched the small of Eva’s back. “Eva, this is Bethan. She owns the store.”

“It’s lovely to meet you,” Eva said, shaking her hand. “Your store is wonderful.”

Bethan’s face lit up. “Well, thank you, dear! Are you interested in antiques?”

“A little, yes.”

I eyed Eva. “She’s being modest. She has an art history degree, so it’s a tad more than a little interested.”

“Oh, that’s my degree!” Bethan stepped forwards and swept Eva away from me. “Where did you study?”

“Oh, um, Plymouth,” Eva replied, a little hesitantly. “I was hoping to join my sister at Bath, but they didn’t have the course I was hoping to take, and I didn’t want to go too far from home.”

“Yes, your accent is from the south, isn’t it? The West Country?”

“Somerset,” Eva confirmed with a small smile. “A small village not far from Bath. My parents own a hotel there, so I wanted to stay close. I worked there, and it meant I could keep a weekend job through uni.”

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