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Crackle.
And a pop.
“What are you smiling at?” he asked, sitting on the sofa. “And have you drunk all that wine?”
“No, but I was about to,” I replied.
“Good thing I bought a few bottles.”
“I would question how bad your sister is, but… yes. I understand now.”
He laughed and reached onto the coffee table for the other bottles he’d bought. “They’re a bit warm now, though.”
“I thought you might at least invest in a mini fridge for this place.”
“Nah, I thought the castle was enough of a bragging point. I’d be utterly unstoppable if I also owned a mini fridge.”
“Ah, yes, of course. The secret to success—the mini fridge.” I nodded sagely. “Careful, or you’ll have billionaires after you for spilling their secrets.”
“They can try.” He chuckled as he poured a glass of wine for himself and sat back, leaving the top off the bottle.
“I suppose they’d have to get past the cockatiel first,” I mused, finishing what was left in my glass.
With a nod, William swapped our glasses, giving me the full one and filling the empty one for himself.
“You have a castle, an impending dukedom, and you refill wine without being asked,” I said, staring at the side of his face. “How is it possible that you’re single, sir?”
He grinned cheekily. “I don’t own a mini fridge, obviously.”
“You should buy one and put it in your Tinder bio. That’ll bring all the girls to your yard. Er, castle.”
He dropped his head back, laughing, and turned his body so he was facing me. “It’s not my castle, and I most certainly am not on Tinder.”
“Why not? It’s a wonderful cesspit of genital pictures and mild abuse. Why wouldn’t you want that in your life?”
“Areyouon Tinder?”
“Yes. It’s a good reminder of who not to date.” I paused, drawing my brows together slightly. “Not that I have a long list of people to date, but that’s not the point.”
William shook his head. “I can’t believe you really have nobody willing to date you. What’s wrong with you?”
“Hmm.” I frowned, hauling my legs up onto the sofa so I could use his lap as a footrest.
“Please, use my lap to make yourself more comfortable.”
I pressed my lips together, fighting back a smile. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”
He raised his hand to his face and scratched under his eye, slowly swinging his gaze towards me. “Grace.”
“Sorry. I saw an opportunity and I took it.”
“Mostgirls, as you so eloquently put it, don’t usually use me as a footrest, no.”
“Not even your ex-girlfriends?”
“Not even my exes,” he confirmed.
“Their loss,” I replied. “You’re quite a good footrest. You’d probably make a fairly comfortable chair, too.”
