“It’s quite a long way to Dashwell on foot,” he says, looking at me as though I’m insane. “Let me give you a lift.”
“Oh!” I pretend I’ve only just thought of this. “Are you sure? I’m happy to walk if you’re off out somewhere.”
“Get in,” he says bossily, climbing out and picking up my case. “I’ll put this in the boot.”
I follow his instructions and, pulling myself up into the passenger seat, I feel a huge sense of relief. Ideally, Tom would not have seen me looking such a mess, but at least I’ve managed to get a lift. I get a mirror out of my bag and quickly check my reflection, groaning at the mascara I’d carefully applied this morning smudged around my eyes, my foundation splodging around my nose, my lipstick nonexistent. I start reapplying as Tom gets back into the driver’s seat and shuts the door.
“You’re a big walker, then,” he asks, setting off.
“Sometimes,” I say, trying discreetly to wipe away the mascara under my eyes with my finger. “It’s nice to be in the fresh air, out of London.”
“Sure.” He grins. “And, as you say, the rain is very refreshing.”
I feel flustered, watching him drive. His arms are all tanned and freckly and kind of flexed with his hands on the wheel. I drag my gaze away from him to look straight ahead. Who knew arms could be so sexy?
“You’re lucky I found you,” he says, interrupting my thoughts about his arms and making me blush, as though he might have been able to read my mind. “This road is quiet. Most tourists in the area don’t come through this station as it’s not part of Paxton, the village where the B and Bs and shops are. This station is closer to the hall but very isolated.”
“Yeah, I noticed,” I say, putting foundation on my nose and blending it in. “How come you’re not at Dashwell this morning?”
“Cordelia wanted some fresh fruit for smoothies,” he explains, jerking his head at the bags in the back seat. “There’s a farmer’s market on Saturdays nearby and I volunteered to pick it up.”
“That’s nice of you.”
“It’s not completely selfless,” he admits. “Have you ever had one of her smoothies?”
I shake my head.
“You’re missing out. They’re delicious. She said she’d make one for me if I got the ingredients. I’ll get her to make enough for both of us. Although you’re probably after something a bit more warming.”
“A cup of tea would be good.”
“How was your friend’s birthday dinner?”
“It was lovely, thanks but I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to come up here last night.”
“You didn’t miss much. During dinner, Cordelia and Mum had an ugly fight over the menu choices for the wedding.” Hesighs, carefully turning a tight corner. “It was very boring and loud for the rest of us.”
“Did they come to an agreement?”
He laughs at such a ludicrous thought. “I’m not sure they’ve ever agreed on anything.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice him looking at me curiously before he speaks again.
“It’s really nice having someone who gets my sister. It sounds strange, but she makes it difficult for people to like her. I don’t understand her most of the time, but she’s a good person. One of the best, really. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who sees that.”
“Hmm.” I keep my mouth shut and wonder for the first time whether he’s as nuts as she is.
“I’m surprised you forgave her so quickly over that stupid escort rumor she started.” He grimaces.
“I’m not an escort,” I say, mortified he’d heard about it.
“I know!” He laughs. “Bloody hell, Emily, of course you’re not. She just has the weirdest sense of humor. I told her she was lucky to have you as a mate after that strange prank.”
“Yeah, well, you know what she’s like,” I say, clearing my throat and desperate to change the subject. “Was it weird growing up in a house that’s filled with tourists all the time?”
“It was a bit. Still is. But we have a private section they don’t come into.”
“When you say section, do you mean wing?” I ask, making him shift in his seat.
