Rami’s weary smile returned, lighting up the world like the twinkling young Christmas tree his sister’s kids—wow, that’s insane—had helped me decorate. “‘Second dinner’?”
I smacked my stomach. “I’m a growing boy.”
“Thought you’d shrunk?”
“Exactly. Need to work harder, don’t I?” I didn’t wait for an answer. I moved to the fridge and inspected the contents. Given that our geographical location was a hot spot for disruptive weather, I had a loaded freezer that could sustain a small army, but the snowstorm raging outside had caught me off guard as much as it had Rami. It was as random and unpredicted as he was, and my fridge shelves showed it.
I rummaged up ham, festive chutney from the village, and a lump of the cheese his sweetheart of a sister bestowed on me every time she came down the mountain. My prized possession was the sandwich press I’d brought home with me from Manchester. It was a lazy bloke’s dream, and when it came to catering I had a gold star certificate in the lazy stakes. I mean, I liked to eat, but I didn’t appreciate doing much to make it happen.
The cast iron press heated up while I threw a couple of sandwiches together.
Rami drank his tea and watched, his smile growing a touch, making his dark eyes seem liquid and endless.
“What about the bairn?” I pointed at Charlie. “Is he going to need a snack?”
Rami shook his head. “He’ll sleep until I try and put him back in the car.”
“That’s not happening any time soon.”
“Gonna hold me hostage over a sandwich?”
“Not me. The weather. Even if your engine wasn’t screwed from a busted radiator hose, that road is blocked in both directions. No soul is getting up or down until the sun comes out to play and trust me, that could takedays.”
Rami blinked, digesting everything I’d just chucked his way. “How do you know about the radiator hose?”
“I forced the catch on the bonnet before I realised you were still inside the car. Figured I’d hot wire it and move it somewhere safer,andget it away from my gate.”
“Your gate?” Rami seemed mystified, then a light bulb seemed to come on in his head. “Fuck, of course. Hawthorne Farm. How did I forget it was here?”
“Probably because you couldn’t see your hand in front of your face in that blizzard out there.”
“I still wouldn’t have made the connection between this place and you, though. I always took you for a gym rat, not a lumberjack.”
“And now?”
“The beard is helping to sway me. It looks good on you.”
My hand drifted to my face to stroke the light brown scruff covering my jaw. It wasn’t as neat as the dark stubble on Rami’s, but I liked it. And I was lazy, remember? Not shaving was awesome.
The sandwich press beeped. I opened it, lifted two golden-brown toasties onto plates, and pushed one Rami’s way.
He picked it up, then put it down again. “This is weird as hell.”
“The sandwich?”
“The fact thatyoumade it. Here, of all places.”
A fog between us seemed to shift. I stared at him as if seeing himright nowfor the first time. God, he was right. And it wasn’t just weird, it was like somewhere between my front door and his broken car I’d been dropped onto another planet. Or maybe the moon. The silver light filtering through my kitchen window looked good reflected in his molten gaze.
Too good to be true.
Hmm. Maybe it was the whisky after all.
“Fen?”
I blinked. Rami was closer than he’d been before, on the other side of the counter and standing beside me. “What?”
“What do you think?” Rami gestured around them. “Last I heard, this place was run by a dude forty years older than you, though admittedly that was a while ago.”
