Page 61 of Book People

There’s no point pretending it didn’t happen, though, not with Dan, and anyway, it’s hardly as if I’m ashamed of it, so I shrug. ‘And?’

‘You spent the night there? With Kate?’

‘No, I spent it with her non-existent cat. Of course with Ka—Miss Jones.’

Dan grins. ‘You sly dog.’

‘Don’t,’ I say sharply, and mean it. ‘It’s no one’s business but ours.’

Dan is unbothered. ‘I’m not implying anything. It’s just . . . well, Bas. You don’t sleep with anyone in the village, so it’s . . . notable.’

Which is why I’m wary of people knowing. Most villagers know I don’t go out with people here. And now they will know that I made an exception for Miss Jones, and there is nothing exceptional about Miss Jones. Nothing at all.

Her hair. Her smile. The warmth of her skin. The way shesounded when I pushed inside her. Her hand on my back, stroking me. The way she gasped my name as I—

Nothing. Fuck.

‘It was a one-time thing,’ I say flatly. ‘Not happening again.’

Dan’s expression is doubtful, but he only holds up a hand. ‘Okay, I hear you. She good with that too?’

‘Yes, of course she is. I wouldn’t have done it if I thought she wasn’t.’

Dan eyes me. ‘And here was I thinking getting laid would make you less of a prick.’

I grit my teeth. ‘Did you come to harangue me or to talk?’

‘Both?’ He takes a long sip of his pint. ‘You like her, don’t you?’

‘Yes, of course. She’s perfectly pleasant.’

Dan says nothing.

‘She’s a nice woman.’

Dan continues to say nothing.

I am tense. Even tenser than I was before my night with her. I was hoping it would make things easier, but it hasn’t. All I can think about is her in my shop today and the expression on her face as she saw Lucy standing there. And I swore I could see the glint of jealousy, of possessiveness in her eyes, and the satisfaction that gave me in that moment . . .

Dan is waiting for me to confess to something he already knows. That he can see, but I’m not willing to admit to, and, yes, it’s putting me in a vile temper. I’ve never been openly rude to people, though I admit to being somewhat cool and reserved. And I’ve never thought this before, or at least, not been conscious of this before, but there is a certain . . . reluctance in me at the thought of being rude to Dan.

He’s been my friend for a long time and he’s put up with a lot. I’m not an easy person to be with.

It’s hard for me to be open with people, to talk to people about personal things. I prefer to talk about books and the characters in them and the subjects they discuss. Books are one step removed. They’re my escape and that’s what I prefer to do.

Yet . . . Miss Jones . . .Kate.

She’s stuck in my head and I can’t get her out, and I need to somehow. Perhaps talking to Dan about her will help.

‘Yes, I . . . like her,’ I say haltingly.

Dan sips at his pint. He is silent.

‘I . . . can’t stop thinking about her.’

Dan nods. Says nothing.

‘There must be a Bechdel test for men or something,’ I say in frustration. ‘Our conversation shouldnotrevolve around women.’

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