The problem being the image of my tennis coach neighbour’s bare arse stuck in my mind.
“Worse than the broken heating?”
Way worse.I swallowed, fighting the temptation to return to my perch. “I have a hot neighbour.”
“Oh?” She sounded infinitely more interested than when I was complaining. “Tell me more.”
I thought back to the pub, of turning around and finding him there, that smile playing on his lips. The way he drove me here, the nervous drumming of his fingers against the wheel. Of the flash of skin I’d witnessed.
Taking a long sip from my glass, I recounted. “Well, he’s tall. Brunette. Cute in a bashful way.”
“Love a dark-haired man,” Cece said. “So, what’s wrong with him?”
“What do you mean?”
“You always have abut. I’m waiting for it.”
“He has the fundamental flaw of being a tennis player.”
She made a noise, as if wounded. “Not with the tennis again.”
“I know!” I said too loudly, my gaze ducking out of the window to check I hadn’t been heard. My stomach lurched when I saw that his bathroom window was closed.
Had he seen me?
“Kit, I know he broke your heart,” she said. “Whatever happened, you’ve got to get over it.”
Got to get over it.The words replayed over and over. It felt impossible. I’d been too young. Too dumb. Too trusting. After having a difficult relationship with my parents, I’d clung too much to the first person who’d shown me affection. And in the end, he’d stolen away too much. Even so many years on, the wound he left still stung.
“And maybe this is fate,” she continued. “A hot Christmas hook-up. Who needs hot water when you have a hot bod to keep you cozy.”
“Gross.”
“All I’m saying is don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”
I huffed a laugh. “You think my tennis neighbour is a gift from the universe?”Not bloody likely.
“I think he’s an opportunity,” she said, trying to convince me, and I was ready to argue back when the doorbell rang.
Suddenly, warmth seemed like it could be back on the cards, and I thanked the Lord for on-call plumbers.
“Well, whatever he is, it’s a terrible idea,” I said as I tumbled out of the bathroom. “I’m only here for a few days, and I didn’t come here to sleep with the locals.” Cece continued to argue as I walked through the cottage towards the front door. “I think the owner has sent a plumber to help with the water! Gotta go—” The line went dead, the signal lost as I reached the door handle.
Without checking, I yanked the door open, but instead of help, I found the six-foot-something man I’d been talking about. Cheeks rose-red from the cold, a tool bag held in one hand, wet hair peeking out from under his hat.
Jonah.
And I knew then, for the second time in twenty-four hours, I should’ve let myself freeze to death.
six
JONAH
Come Over - Noah Kahan
“What are you doing here?” Kit asked, her fingers tightening slightly on the thick blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Her body straightened, an unreadable flicker in her gaze as she used her height to block the doorway.
Under the blanket, the turtleneck of a cream knit jumper peeked out. Her long blonde hair was slightly mussed, a few strands falling loose around her face, giving her an effortless kind of beauty.
