Page 22 of Twisted Paths

He shrugs, running a thumb absently along the condensation on his pint glass. “Anything. Something I wouldn’t hear from Mrs Higgins.”

I exhale a laugh, leaning back in my chair. “You’re assuming she doesn’t already know everything about me.”

Luke smirks. “She probably does. But let’s pretend she doesn’t.”

I tap my fingers against my glass, thinking. “Alright. I used to work in corporate marketing in Leeds, but I got sick of the back-to-back meetings about meetings, so I went freelance.”

He nods. “Regrets?”

“Only that I didn’t do it sooner.”

His gaze flicks over me, considering. “So, you like working for yourself?”

“Love it. I get to choose my clients, work in my pyjamas if I want to.”

Luke takes another sip of his beer, waiting, like he knows I have more to say.

I set my pint down and lean back slightly. “Only downside to working from home is the food situation. I can’t cook. At all.”

“So I’ve heard,” he laughs. He actually laughs.

I shake my head. “I mean, I can put things in the oven, but that’s just heating stuff up. Actual cooking, from scratch? No.”

Luke tilts his glass slightly, watching me over the rim. “In that case the shop-bought sandwich was definitely the safer option.”

I point at him. “Exactly. It’s survival.”

He smirks, setting his pint down. “So, how do you manage? Survive on meal deals?”

“No. Well… sometimes.” I huff a laugh. “But my sister, Abby, is an amazing cook. She runs a B&B in a hamlet just outside St Claire, and she’s always feeding me. Says I’d waste away otherwise.”

Luke rests an arm against the back of his chair. “What’s it called… the B&B?”

“Sunshine Cottage Bed & Breakfast.”

His brows lift slightly. “Sounds… cheerful.”

“It is. Too cheerful, actually. She’s got those ridiculous floral teacups, checkered tablecloths, fairy lights everywhere. The whole place smells like fresh bread and homemade jam. It’s all very wholesome.”

He tilts his head. “And that bothers you?”

I scoff. “No, I love it. It’s just that she’s a proper domestic goddess and I’m over here setting fire to jacket potatoes.”

Luke exhales a quiet chuckle. “So, she’s the responsible one?”

“Oh, definitely. Abby’s the one who’s always got everything together. I’m the one who turns up for free food and lets her tell me how to live my life.”

His gaze lingers on mine for a second, as if he’s picturing it. “You two close, then?”

I nod. “Always have been. It was just the two of us growing up, so we kind of had to be. She’s a couple of years younger than me, but sometimes I think she’s actually the older sister, especially since her husband passed away.”

Luke studies me like he’s filing that information away somewhere.

I sip my drink, then add, “She’s got a daughter, too. Layla. My niece. She’s six, chaotic, and smarter than any of us.”

Luke’s mouth twitches. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Oh, she is. She’s the only person I know who can hold a full conversation while hanging upside down from the back of a sofa. I don’t know how my sister keeps up.”

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