Page 80 of Book People

The last thing in the world I want to do is hurt her.

‘Good.’ I ignore the tight feeling in my chest that suggests that ‘good’ might not be the right response and that ‘casual’ is not the right word for what we have. Instead, I lift my hands and cup her face between them, bending to kiss her gently. ‘Now, tonight after dinner. Your place or mine?’

‘Yours,’ she says promptly. ‘I like your shower. The water pressure in mine is awful.’

‘Glad to know someone’s got their priorities straight.’

‘Also,’ she says, the look in her eyes soft. ‘Just so you know, you’re nothing like Jasper. Nothing like him at all.’

I’d like to think I wasn’t, but you can never tell. And, honestly, I’d decapitatemyselfif I was anything like that prick.

So I kiss her again, already impatient for this dinner to be over.

Already impatient to have her where she belongs.

In my bed.

Chapter Twenty-one

Please, don’t let’s argue. He’s going down to London tomorrow. I can come to you then.

C

KATE

We’ve finished dinner and are sitting in the Wychtree Arms dining room: me, Lisa and Sebastian, the notes between the first Sebastian and the first Kathryn stacked neatly on the table.

Lisa’s husband, Clive – a darts fan, apparently – has gone to try his luck against Mrs Bennet, while Lisa discusses the love letters with us, jotting down notes in a pretty notebook she bought from Portable Magic.

I’d been looking forward to her arriving and to our dinner, so I’m not sure why I feel so . . . restless. Why all my attention feels consumed by the man sitting opposite me.

‘Casually’, he said when Lisa asked us if we were together, and casual was what we agreed on. It was what we both wanted. Sure, I had a little moment when he first said it to Lisa andfelt stupidly hurt. And that argument in his shop about Lisa’s signing . . . Sebastian was right. It was a silly thing to argue about, especially when that wasn’t the problem.

Except I don’t know what the problem was. The word ‘casually’ hit me wrong, and maybe that’s because the intensity of our connection doesn’t feel casual to me. But . . . I don’t want it to be more, so I don’t know why I got so wound up. It’s not as if I’m ready to hurl myself into a passionate relationship again, not after Jasper. Or indeed any kind of relationship.

Still, despite all of that, I’m not as okay as I thought I’d be with this middle ground Sebastian and I have been occupying the past week. I find it strange that he’s willing to have this in-between thing with me, especially when he’s such an all-or-nothing guy, and it makes me wonder why.

The sex is fantastic, so maybe that’s the reason – he’s a man, after all. Yet if sex was the only reason, then we wouldn’t sit around talking and sometimes arguing about everything under the sun the way we have been.

It’s so good between us that dangerous thoughts have started to slip in, such as what would it be like if we weren’t casual, if our relationship actually matched our feelings . . . not that I know what his feelings are, yet . . .

But no. I can’t think about me or my feelings. I can only think that trying for anything more with him would be a mistake. He’d throw himself into a relationship body and soul, and he’d take everything, and I don’t have it in me to give him that. I don’t want to give myself away again, not after Jasper. Maybe in a few years I might have the emotional bandwidth for it, but not now.

Sebastian is leaning back in the wooden chair at the table now, arms folded, his blue gaze on mine, his expression impossible to read. He’s gorgeous again today, as he is every day, in a dark-blue shirt that emphasises the colour of his eyes.

‘So, tell me more about the teashop,’ Lisa says to me.

Over the past week I’ve been making visits to the local public library and looking at the historic village records, researching my great-grandmother’s history. There’s not a lot, but I did manage to find a few photos of the teashop in the archives.

‘I’ve got these for you,’ I say, reaching into my bag and getting out copies of the photos. I put them on the table and Lisa looks at them excitedly. ‘It was called the Wychtree Tea Rooms,’ I continue. ‘Mrs Bennet in the craft shop said her husband made her give it up.’

Sebastian is looking at the photos too, a slight frown on his face. They’re not new to him. I’ve shown them to him before.

‘Ah,’ Lisa says. ‘That must have been awful for her. But these are great. May I keep them for reference?’

‘Go ahead.’ I pick up my glass of wine and sip it.

‘Fantastic. And what do you know about your great-grandfather?’ She peers over the top of her glasses at me.

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