Jacob must understand the message, because he averts his gaze, sitting up straighter in his chair.
“You’ve both already eaten?” I ask my father, noticing their empty plates.
My father nods. “We’re ready to get an early start. As soon as you’re done, I mean. No rush.” But his body betrays him. He’s practically bouncing out of his chair.
I glance over at Jacob. “I take it the car’s ready?”
“Yes,” my father answers.
“It will be,” Jacob says. “Parts are in, but Callum said the repairs will take about an hour.”
“That’s not too bad,” I say.
“No, not bad at all.” My father hums, taking a sip from his cup of tea, and Jacob and I exchange an amused glance.
“Callum bumped us up to the top of his list,” Jacob says. “Apparently Iain called him this morning and demanded it.”
“That was nice of him.” I scan the room but don’t see Iain or Elsie anywhere. “Are they here?”
“They were, but I told them to go back to bed.” Jacob lifts a shoulder. “We’re the only guests here, and they had such a late night yesterday. I figured we can manage breakfast ourselves.” He pauses. “That’s okay, isn’t it?”
My chest warms.
It’s rare to find someone like this, someone who extends care in this way, not just to the people in his life but to people he’s only just met. I understand why my father and Maggie consider him family, why they keep him so close.
Why I want to do the same.
“Yes,” I say softly. “Of course.”
I excuse myself and enter the kitchen to make some toast with butter and jam. I’ve just pulled the bread out of the toaster and am slathering some red jam on top when a pair of hands comes around my waist.
I jump, turning over my shoulder so quickly I almost slam my forehead into Jacob’s chin.
He laughs, a warm puff of breath against my hair. “Close call,” he says.
“What are you—”
He presses a kiss to the side of my neck.
“My dad is right outside!”
“Yes,” he says. “But no one’s in here.” His open mouth trails up to my ear, and I shiver, leaning back against him.
I don’t know what this means, this new, playful behavior from him. Has he thought about what I asked? Is he giving in to it?
I’m desperate to know, but I don’t want to ask him, too scared that the answer won’t be what I want. That whatever this is will end.
Light,I remind myself.Fun. That’s all we can do. I don’t need to make any of this more complicated than that.
I twist slightly so I can meet his mouth, pulling him into a kiss. Soft and sweet, his lips tasting like tea.
“Good morning,” he says, leaning his forehead against mine, and I laugh.
“I already saw you this morning. Remember?”
His eyes flare, and a fire starts deep in my belly. “Trust me,” he says, his voice gravelly. “I wouldn’t forget that.”
He kisses me again with greater intensity, his tongue sweeping into my mouth. I’m lost in it, moving against him, until a loud clatter echoes through the air. My eyes fly back open. I’ve dropped the butter knife, and it’s hit my plate, small flecks of red jam splattering on the counter.
