“You were brilliant last night, Tom. A big help just when I needed it. Hanging around with my family at the hospital until stupid o’clock wasn’t what you signed up for when we agreed to be each other’s wedding dates. I’d like to make it up to you by cooking dinner for you some time. I make a passable lasagne, if you’re interested.”
As she watched Tom chewing on his cookie and saw his eyebrows lift at her suggestion, it suddenly occurred to her that maybe he thought she was offering something more than just a thank-you meal. Like, something more romantically inclined. Her cheeks flushed with heat at her unthinking mistake.
“Passable lasagne?” Tom said. “It’s hard to say no to passable lasagne.”
His amused response made her laugh, relieved she hadn’t sent mixed messages.
And if you had sent mixed messages, would that be so bad?
Carole coughed on her cookie as the unexpected thought took her by surprise. Had she meant, even subconsciously, for Tom to wonder if passable lasagne might be a prelude to something more? Did she hope itwouldlead to something more?
Stunned, Carole realised she didn’t know how to answer that question.
Yes, Tom was handsome and funny and kind and clearly an all-round stand-up guy if last night was anything to go by but…
… but that was neither here nor there.
He was her next-door neighbour, and they were doing each other a favour with this wedding date stuff. The last thing she was about to do was let her stupid brain—which was, by the way, still emotionally wrung-out after everything that had happened last night to her lovely dad—start conjuring ridiculous romantic fantasies that were too idiotically misguided for words.
Tom was hernext-door neighbour. As in, the person who literally lived on the other side of the wall from her. She’d only moved in a few weeks ago, and if you were lucky enough to have nice neighbours—which she did—then you tried to be friends with them in a helpful, neighbourly sort of way.
You didn’t start imagining… other sorts of cosy scenarios that went beyond that, not unless you wanted to risk embarrassing yourself silly.
She realised Tom was staring at her, presumably waiting for her to say something further about the passable lasagne she’d offered to cook for him.
“Uh, so are you free some night next week?” she asked once she’d dislodged the cookie crumbs that were still stuck in her throat with a swift gulp of coffee. “I’m working late on Tuesday and Wednesday, but the other evenings are okay. Or we could wait until the weekend, if that’s better?”
“I can’t do next weekend, but Thursday is good.”
“Brilliant.”
“What should I bring?”
“Just yourself. This is a thank you dinner, which means you aren’t allowed to contribute anything.”
Tom laughed. “Fair enough.”
They sipped their coffee and ate their baked treats for a few moments, basking in the summer sunshine. The silence was comfortable and easy. A squirrel popped up on the top of the fence and paused to look at them both before scurrying off.When it lost its footing on the narrow fence slats and had to scramble not to fall off, they both laughed softly in amusement.
“He’s in too much of a rush,” Carole observed as the squirrel clambered back up to the top of the fence.
“Lots of Sunday afternoon chores to attend to,” Tom said.
“Busy little guy.”
The squirrel vanished into a tree at the bottom of the garden. Moments later, another squirrel popped up at precisely the same spot on the fence where the first one had appeared. Glancing around, he sniffed the fence and then darted off at high speed in the same direction as his predecessor.
“Oh, I think that first squirrel must be on the run,” Carole laughed. “This one looks angry.”
“How can you tell?” Tom asked, his lips curving in amusement.
“He just seems a bit puffed up and like he’s ready to kiss ass and take names.”
Tom laughed. Carole joined him. Apparently, the sugary treats and the caffeine and the warm sunshine were mixing dangerously with her sleep deprivation and making her talk complete rubbish.
Squirrel number two sprinted into the tree that the other squirrel had vanished into, and moments later they heard the two creatures racing around the trunk and along the branches, the leaves shaking violently as they chased each other. When squirrel number one reached the end of a long low branch and leapt precariously into the adjoining garden at the bottom of Tom’s plot, squirrel number two followed hot on his furry heels and the animals vanished again from sight as the pursuit continued.
“Looks like you were right,” Tom grinned. “They’re clearly mortal enemies.”
