“That wasn’t awkward,” Sorrell said. “Although the pictures are rather good. I can’t believe that’s how we looked.”
Zack wanted to be able to say ‘where were we’ and kiss her again, but the moment had gone, stolen by the camera of a phone. “How many photos is that you have on your phone from today?”
She put her phone away and gave a little laugh. “Plenty. Let’s see the rest of the house.”
Aparty of tourists caught them up as they looked in the last of the rooms and the grand hallways. A guide talked them through some of the history of the objects in the room, the portraits and tapestries. Zack had heard it before, but Sorrell was captivated by it. He focused on her closeness although they weren’t touching, and the intimacy the anonymous crowd brought.
Outside, tourists and visitors lingered around the Christmas market with the stalls selling gifts and seasonal fayre. They stopped by a stall selling mulled wine and cider and he bought a mugful for each of them.
“You should’ve let me buy them,” she said. “You paid for the tickets.”
“My treat,” he said. “I’m buying you dinner as well so don’t plan on getting your purse out.”
Her eyes danced from above the rim of her mug. “You don’t want to eat here? I saw a place selling paella.”
Zack didn’t. He wanted her inside somewhere warm where they could talk and maybe he could persuade her to go out on a proper date, ex-fiancé be damned. “It’s cold,” he said. “I’m thinking a real fire and three courses sat down at a table, rather than standing up here.”
She nodded. “I’m glad you’ve said that. I didn’t want to sound like a city brat wanting somewhere warm.”
She didn’t look too cold, although her nose was slightly reddened and she had pulled her over-large scarf tightly around her neck and shoulders. It looked handmade and had Gran’s knitting club written all over it.
“Pub it is. Did you get conned into buying that thing?” he asked, touching the woollen monstrosity.
Her hands automatically raised to her neck and touched the material. “I might’ve decided to buy it.”
“Then Gran told you it was being sold to raise money for a good cause,” Zack said with raised brows. He knew exactly what game Gran was playing: her favourite—let’s tell newcomers to the village that the proceeds go to a fundraising kitty and suck them in.
“She did. She didn’t say what though.” Sorrell eyed him suspiciously. “I’d have bought the scarf anyway so it doesn’t matter but I’m interested to know what her ‘good cause’ is.”
He took her empty mug from her and placed it down on the wooden bar. “It varies, but at present it’s her gin business. She wants one of the copper things to distil it properly. She and her two partners in crime have been experimenting,” Zack said. “They keep sneaking samples of it into Sunrise and feeding it to some of the residents to check its potency and flavour. I walked into one of the lounges on Wednesday and found a full on Speakeasy set up there, complete with Gatsby style outfits.”
Sorrell was starting to laugh loudly, her eyes crinkling with mirth. “What did you do?”
“What could I do? It isn’t like any of them are underage. So I joined in.” He was enjoying seeing her amusement, her face animated with laughter.
“How was it?”
“I didn’t drive home, put it that way. In fact, I called Jake and suggested he try some too. He fancies himself as a gin connoisseur,” Zack said. They had started to walk over to where he had parked, the house behind them twinkling with lights.
“Why doesn’t he have a girlfriend?” Sorrell said. “And your brothers? I can’t believe that you’re all single.”
He wondered how he should take the fact that she hadn’t included him in that. “Jake’s usually seeing someone, but at the moment it’s someone who works in Leeds occasionally and it’s never serious. He’s gone through all the available women he’s interested in from round here. Scott occasionally hooks up with either someone here on a night out or an ex or someone for the night. And Alex—I don’t know. He can work anywhere in the north and I think he’s had a few relationships, just none of them have ever been serious enough to subject her to us.”
He opened the car door for her and offered her a hand to help her up, not that he thought she needed it.
“What about you?” she said. “Why aren’t you off the market?”
Finally, a hint that she was interested, other than kissing him back.
“I saw someone for a while and when I came back here it ended. I’ve not met anyone I’ve wanted to be serious with, and if I have, they’ve not wanted to stay in Severton so it wouldn’t have gone anywhere.” He remembered his ex-girlfriend and the excuses she’d made to not have to come to Severton and see his family. She had been happy to parade him round Manchester and in front of her friends, telling them how he grew his muscles on his family’s farm and she’d been more than happy to let him keep her bed warm at night, but as soon as he’d mentioned her moving back with him, she’d distanced herself and he’d been left wondering how he’d let himself be in the position where someone could break his heart like his mother had his dad’s.
“It’s an unusual place,” Sorrell said. “I don’t think I’ve lived anywhere like it, or even known anywhere like it.”
“You used to be a kids’ therapist, right?” Sorrell was calm and quiet, as far as he had learned, but he noticed that she watched people and when she had interacted with others, she knew what made them comfortable.
“I was a children’s therapist,” she said. “I guess I still am. I used to specialise in working with looked after children, you know, the kids in the care system or sometimes post-adoption.”
“Why the change?” He started up the engine, piping up the heat.
