“Let’s make this quick.” I gestured to her bike. “I have places to be.” A lie, but if I could just get her into my car, I’d have at least five minutes of her undivided attention.
She’d be forced to hear my offer.
Snickers from the committee still echoing in my head, I’d hung back after the meeting, overhearing Annabelle, rather falsely, comfort Isla with, “There’s always next year. And who knows, maybe you’ll have a new man by then.” And the plan had hit me like a bolt of lightning.
I couldn’t play Santa Claus. But if Kinleith wanted a pie-baking, lawn-mowing suburban hero, then I’d slap on some New Balances and kick-start the neighbourhood watch if that’s what it took to get me out of here.
Isla puffed out a breath. For a second I could have sworn she was about to say no again and I’d be forced to drive at a glacial pace behind her the entire way home.
“Fine,” she finally said. “But only because the saddle is becoming uncomfortable. Not because you told me to.”
My eyes, apparently needing no further invitation, flicked to where she straddled the bike with that magnificent heart-shaped arse. “Whatever gets you in the car faster.”
I didn’t watch as she dismounted, purposely taking her time.
“Satisfied?” she asked.
“Rarely.”
“What are you going to do with my bike?”
“It’ll fit in the back.” I hefted it up, cringing as oil smeared my shirtsleeve. She followed behind me, watchingas I stored it in the boot beside my medical kit and closed the door.
“Up front.” I steered her toward the passenger side with a hand on her shoulder – the cardigan-covered one – before I even became conscious of the action.
I snatched it back but stayed close, a barricade between her and the road as she used the step to hoist herself in.
“At least you wore a fucking helmet,” I ground out, reaching beneath her chin to unclip the strap. Her skin was soft, and I flexed my fingers, bending to stow it in the footwell.
By the time I climbed into the driver’s seat, she’d wedged herself against the door, smoothing her hand over her wind-tangled curls. The cab already smelled too sweet – like she’d fallen into a candyfloss machine right before I picked her up.
“Your car is freakishly clean.” Her hands went from her hair to the cup holder. Then she opened the glove box, closed it again and dragged her fingertips across the dashboard, inspecting for dust.
“Want to examine the upholstery next?”
“Sure. Do you have a UV light handy?”
I clipped in my seatbelt. “Searching for blood?”
“Among other things. A girl can’t be too careful.”
Starting the engine, I pulled back onto the road, deciding where to start, but before I could speak, she beat me to it. “You didn’t want to stay and hang with your family?”
“Nah, everyone’s pretty busy.” The lie rolled off my tongue far too easily.
She threw me a look that told me she wasn’t buying it, but all she said was, “I always wanted siblings.”
I glanced at her, then back at the road, turning down the dirt track that led to Croft Cottages. “Where did you grow up?”
“Surrey. Not the nice bit you see on TV though.”
“Your parents still live there?”
“Yep. Well, my mum lives there permanently. Dad stays with her during their on-againperiods, but they usually last no more than a month or two.”
“And when they’reoff-again?”
“He’s retired now, but used to be a long-haul lorry driver, travelled all over Europe. Sometimes he was away for weeks at a time.”
