It felt easier, safer, to have him on the other side of the door and away from possible public scrutiny.
‘I didn’t intend to—’
‘Just come in, Dominic.’
She stood back, inhaling the scent of him as he moved in such proximity that touching him would have been easy. She quickly glanced up and down the street and was relieved that there was no sign of the Hudsons, and that Maeve seemed to still be keeping a low profile after the Pickle turd incident. He walked into the wide, pretty kitchen as he had only days before, and as if he had been doing so for much longer.
Despite her reservations, she felt the icy chill of Jenny’s rejection thaw, and warmth spread through her bones at no more than the presence of him.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Would you like a drink?’ Enya reached for the kettle.
‘I don’t want to impose.’ His expression was pained.
‘I’m going to have one.’ She lifted a mug from the shelf.
‘Erm,’ he looked at his watch, ‘I try to avoid caffeine after four, keeps me up. Can I have water or juice?’
‘Of course, and you can sit down. You’re making me jumpy.’
‘I’m sorry.’ He ran his hand over his mouth and sat at the dining table.
‘I have wine.’
‘That would be lovely.’ He allowed himself a small smile.
Wine with Dominic, she’d be lying if she didn’t admit to feeling the tiniest frisson of desire grip her stomach.
‘What’s the time? I’ve lost track, a little.’ She patted her wayward curls and wished she could pop upstairs to clean her teeth without seeming rude.
‘Nearly five.’
‘Goodness! I’ve slept for most of the afternoon, that’s really not like me.’
‘You must have needed it. You can’t make your body do that. It’s good to shut down and recharge occasionally.’
‘I guess so,’ she yawned, as her brain zapped back to life. ‘I always feel guilty if I nap during the day. It was how I was broughtup, to fill every minute with something productive, find a chore, keep busy.’
‘I’ve never really understood that.’ He watched as she walked across the kitchen to fetch two wine glasses and a bottle of her favoured rosé from the fridge. ‘The guilt that comes with self-care. I say to Iris, put yourself first, then do what others need or want.’
‘It’s good advice, doesn’t mean I know how to take it.’
‘That’s most advice in my case.’ He laughed.
She placed the glass of wine in front of him and took a seat on the opposite side, glad that he hadn’t sat in Jonathan’s chair at the head of the table. It was one thing to have this man inside her house, but quite another for him to have sat there.
‘Cheers.’ He raised his glass towards her and took a sip.
‘Cheers. Here’s to a very unexpected visit.’ She wanted to feel irate at the intrusion, but the truth was she felt nothing but delight to be in his company. Still reeling from Jenny’s visit earlier, this felt like the opposite of exclusion. Her gut fluttered with the nerves of a sixteen-year-old on prom night and a flush of want that seemed to bloom whenever he was near. It was as addictive as it was hazardous, easy to misinterpret the physical attraction for something more.
‘I like your home very much. The softness of it.’
‘The softness?’ She wasn’t sure what he meant or whether it was a compliment.
‘Yes, the cushions, linens, worn wood, glass, rounded chairs, lots of circles and tactile pieces. No sharp edges.’
‘Not by design. It’s a kind of mishmash of things I’ve acquired or inherited or fallen in love with.’ She looked at the pink and green striped pleated lampshade on the tall red candle lamp. She and Jonathan had picked it up at an antique market in Wells. It had been the loveliest of days.
