Absolutely not. I’m picking you up from Skipton. No arguments. I’ll be there at ten past one. It’s no trouble at all, and I’d rather you didn’t have to juggle luggage and local buses.
Also, some new developments. Mrs Higgins is going on a short Nordic cruise next week and needed someone to look after Bernard. Nancy was meant to do it, but she’ll be in Paris, so Mrs Higgins asked if I could take him instead. Apparently, she remembered how much Bernard ‘took a shine’ to me, which I think translates to “stole my lunch and refused to move off my foot.”
So it looks like you’ll be seeing him again. Try to act surprised.
Looking forward to seeing you, Eve. Maybe more than I should. I’ve missed our conversations. And your smile.
Aaron
Chapter 13
Eve
The train pulls intoSkipton just after one, the brakes sighing in that way that sounds almost human. My stomach does a small, traitorous flip as I gather my suitcase. It’s ridiculous, really. It’s only Aaron. A friend. A very tall, irritatingly attractive friend who happens to be waiting on the other side of the ticket barriers.
My heart doesn’t seem to have received that memo.
The air hits me as soon as I step off the train, cooler and sharper than in Norfolk, carrying the faint smell of rain and something green. I take a steadying breath, tell myself to behave like a functioning adult, and follow the stream of passengers towards the exit.
And then I see him.
He’s standing just beyond the barriers, a ridiculous sight in the best possible way. Bernard is slumped at his feet, half asleep, the lead looped loosely in Aaron’s hand. In the other, he’s holding up a white piece of card with my name on it, written in large, unnecessary block letters.
I can’t help it. I start to laugh.
He grins when he spots me, lowering the sign with a small shrug. Bernard stirs, stretches, and gives a single wag of approval before promptly sitting back down again.
Aaron looks exactly as I remembered, and somehow, not at all. His hair is a little longer, his coat dusted with rain, and his smile, steady and genuine, hits somewhere right beneath my ribs.
“Welcome to Yorkshire,” he says when I reach him. “Your chauffeur awaits.”
Before I can reply, he leans in and presses a brief kiss to my cheek. Warm, gentle, almost casual.
Almost.
And for a moment, standing there in a half-busy station with a sleepy beagle and a man holding a cardboard sign, I realise I haven’t stopped smiling since the train slowed down.
My nerves get the better of me. The kiss is nothing dramatic, just a light touch against my cheek, but it manages to short-circuit every sensible thought I’ve ever had. Before he can notice, I duck down to greet Bernard instead.
“Well, hello, trouble,” I say, scratching behind his ears. “Still charming everyone in a five-mile radius, I see.”
He yawns and leans all his weight against my leg, his eyes half-closed in bliss. I can’t help smiling. Some dogs just radiate comfort, even while smelling faintly of mischief and digestive gases.
By the time I straighten up, I’ve mostly managed to get a grip on myself. Aaron is still standing there, smiling in that steady, assured way of his, the cardboard sign now tucked under one arm.
“So,” I say, nodding at it, “what’s with the grand welcome? Planning to start a chauffeur service?”
He laughs, folding the sign in half. “I wanted to make sure you recognised me. It’s been weeks. I couldn’t risk you walking right past and pretending you didn’t know me.”
“I’d have managed to identify you without props,” I reply.
He looks entirely unbothered. “I was also going to bring flowers, but they’re impractical and die within days.” His smile turns teasing. “So instead, I bought a lemon tart from the bakery across the street.”
“That sounds much more practical,” I say. “Although, I’m now wondering why you sound slightly guilty about it.”
He hesitates, then laughs. “Because we’re no longer welcome there. Bernard may have, well… made his presence known. Quite dramatically. In the queue.”
I blink. “He didn’t.”
