I roll my eyes. ‘I’ve already made it clear I’d rather eat my own head than have dinner with you.’ I pick up his suggestion, and another gale of compensatory laughter bursts out of me. ‘Advance vetting partners isn’t exactly spontaneous, is it?’
He shrugs. ‘No, but at least I’m well prepared and I avoid disappointment.’
Then I stop and look at him hard. ‘And how is this working out for you? I mean, it’s Saturday night and you’re in sleepy St Aidan in someone else’s kitchen, baking with a loser.’
‘That’s a bit harsh, Betsy. My current issues are down to something else entirely.’ He drags in a breath. ‘All I’m saying is, you might want to consider forward selection in future. Choice is power, remember.’
And oh how I know that now, but I’m shaking my head in disbelief. It feels like there’s so much office-type rationale being applied here, it’s like we’re stuck in an Appleton company boardroom, not talking about emotive subjects like fun and partners.
At the same time it resonates in the most chilling kind of way, because it holds so true. If I’d followed Miles’s guidelines, that one awful night might never have happened. It’s just a relief that Miles doesn’t know the worst about Mason, because if he did, I wouldn’t be able to hold my head up in St Aidan. ‘Well, thanks for your input, but that’s not a mistake I’ll be making again. I’ve given up dating.’
Miles frowns. ‘You can’t mean that? If you limit your life because of one bad guy, it means they win.’
I pull in a breath, because he’s so close to the truth here, and although it’s insignificant compared to what came later, Miles was the bad guy that day too because of the way he snubbed me.
I rub my nose with my fist, catch sight of the tangle of curls bobbing around on my shoulder and try move this on. ‘We were so busy barricading Fudge in the sofa area with bar stools, I forgot to tie my hair back.’
Miles springs to the sink, rinses the flour off his hands, and when he turns back to me, one of my scrunchies is hanging from his finger. ‘It’s a good job I gave up protesting about hair elastics in the fruit bowl. My hands are clean, shall I tie it up for you?’
As he stands behind me, I shiver at the thought of him touching me.
‘Would you like a braid or a ponytail?’
Then I come to my senses. ‘Thanks all the same, but I prefer a messy up-do, or a French twist secured with a pencil, both of which are much too hard for a beginner. I’ll wash my hands and do it myself.’
I’m about to step forward to the sink, but his fingers are already sliding through my hair, pulling it upwards.
His smile widens. ‘I’ve got this! Lucky for you my first job was as a junior in a salon.’ He gathers my curls into a bunch. ‘I probably had more teenage jobs than you had love interests.’
As the rainbow shivers on my scalp subside it has to be said. ‘None of them were about love.’
He laughs. ‘We’ve got that in common too.’
‘Excuse me?’
He sighs. ‘I told you when we were talking about Tate and Scarlett– that’s not a thing I’ve had myself.’
He sounds so easy, it’s out of my mouth before I know it’s coming. ‘So what happened at their wedding– why did you mess with Scarlett’s choice of bridal party partners?’
There’s a beat of silence. ‘I’m afraid that day I was dealing with a monumentally tricky situation that was outside my control.’ He blows out a breath. ‘I scoured the place for you next morning to apologise but I couldn’t find you.’ I open my mouth to say the words but he holds his finger up. ‘Before you jump in with your “people like you never explain or say sorry” line– that’s not who I am.’
I’m staring at him. ‘What sort of person are you then?’
He narrows his eyes. ‘The kind that worried when reception told me you’d already checked out.’
I catch my breath. ‘You didn’t tell anyone?’
He gives a half-shake of his head and stares into my eyes. ‘Were you okay?’
I hold my nerve. ‘You know what animal sanctuaries are like with emergencies.’ It’s a statement rather than a lie.
His brows knit into a frown. ‘I don’t, so I’ll have to take your word on that one.’
He gives me another hard stare and I crumble. ‘Fine, I wasn’t called away. We left because we had an argument.’ I make my smile bright. ‘It wasn’t going to be possible to make small talk over breakfast, so we slipped away instead, and for the record we didn’t see each other again.’
‘Good decision.’ His grip tightens on my hair again. There’s another pull or two, and he steps back, his eyes scrutinising my hairline. ‘That’s caught most of it, I hope that’s messy enough for you.’
It’s certainly messed up my insides.When I agreed to bake with Miles, I was grudging rather than enthusiastic, but I’d completely underestimated how hard it would be, or how close we’d be standing or where the conversation would end up. The worst bit about tonight is that when I’m not in control I have no idea what’s coming next.
