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“It’ll be fine. Look at that—you finally told me something before it happened.”
“I’m never going to live this down, am I?”
“No but be grateful I’m just your fake girlfriend and not your real one, or you’d really be in trouble.”
He made a weird rumbling noise that was either out of fear or agreement or a mix of both.
Or it was just his stomach.
Will drove down a high street that looked like it would be on a Christmas card if it were covered in a thicker layer of snow and turned left at the end onto a smaller street. At the very end of that street, he turned right into a small carpark and pulled into a space.
“Here we go,” he said. “The restaurant is just on the other side of the carpark.”
“Do you need a ticket on it?”
He shook his head. “Only in the high season. Between October and April, it’s free to park.”
“Must be nice.”
“I couldn’t agree more.” He chuckled and got out, then walked around the car and opened my door for me before I’d even untangled my foot from the strap of my bag.
“What’s this? A reputation to keep up for the dashing Viscount Kinkirk?”
He took a deep breath that made his shoulders heave and huffed it back out, and they dropped with vigour. “I am regretting everything about asking you to come with me.”
“No, you’re not.” I got out of the car and was standing right in front of him when I said, “Admit it. You’re having far too much fun with me around.”
“Fun is a strong word.” His lips twitched into the ghost of a smile, and his gaze caught mine. “Don’t get cocky, Grace.”
Laughing, I stepped aside so he could close the door, then accepted the arm he offered me. “I don’t need to be cocky. I can tell you’re having the time of your life.”
“You know, saying, ‘I don’t need to be cocky’ is far more effective when not followed up with another cocky statement,” Will pointed out. “Carry on, and I’ve half a mind to make you pay for your own dinner.”
“You wouldn’t let me pay for a cup of coffee the first time we met,” I reminded him. “Do you think for a second I believe that you’d make me pay for my own dinner?”
“I might.”
“Okay, fine. I’ll pay for my own dinner.”
“Just yours?”
“Would you ever let me buy you dinner?”
“Depends if you asked me nicely,” he replied.
“Never going to happen.”
“Then no.”
“What was the point in asking, then?”
“I don’t know. Communication.”
I batted him on the chest as he laughed. “You’re such hard work. Thank God this is all a ruse.”
“Hard work? Me? You haven’t met Freya yet,” he said, reaching for the door of the restaurant. “Ladies first.”
I released his arm and stepped inside, and a shudder ran over me at the warm bubble of air that enveloped me. I hadn’t realised it was so cold outside—mostly because I was cuddled up against William’s side, granted, but this restaurant felt like a dream.
