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“But it’s not up to me to decide who she falls for. And I am pleased to see her making time for herself again. She’s been so focused on her job for so long.”

Kathy looks at me for a long moment. “Could we start over, do you think?”

“Aye. I’d like that.”

She gives my shoulder a firm, motherly squeeze. Then she’s up off the bench, brisk again, brushing down her trousers.

“Right. I’ll leave you to your training. I’ll try Briony again once the shop quietens down.” She looks at Penny, who is eyeing the raised bed again. “And you, madam, leave those poor plants alone.”

Briony knocks on the door of my flat a little after six. I open up and kiss her before either of us can say a word. She makes a wee surprised noise against my mouth, and then her hands are on my chest, gripping my T-shirt.

When I finally let her go, she blinks up at me. She’s still in her work dungarees. “Well. Hello to you too.”

“Hey.”

Claws skitter across the floorboards, and Penny barrels down the hall. She circles Briony’s feet, licks her ankle, gets her ears rubbed—then turns tail and trots straight back the way she came.

Briony watches her go. “Okay. Bye, then.”

“I wouldnae take it personally. She’s claimed one of the sofas. It’s her new favourite spot.”

I shut the door, and Briony follows me through to the kitchen and living space. Sure enough, Penny is curled up on the smaller sofa. She opens one eye at us, then closes it again.

“She really has made herself at home,” Briony says. Then she clocks the kitchen. “What’s gone on here?”

My kitchen is normally spotless. Everything put away, nothing on the surfaces. Now, though, there’s flour all over the worktop, pastry offcuts in a heap, mushroom stalks scattered beside the chopping board, a used pan on the hob, and another soaking in the sink.

“Thought I’d try something ambitious. Mushroom Wellington.”

“Aw. You’re making me mushroom Wellington? You’re too sweet.”

“Sweet? You’ll ruin my reputation, flower girl. Anyway, it needs a while yet. Come and sit down.”

I steer her to the big sofa. I sit, and she sprawls along it with a groan, swinging her legs over my lap. I unlace her trainers, ease them off, then tug off her socks too. Then I take one foot in both hands and work my thumbs into the arch.

“Oh my goodness.” Her head drops back against the cushions, and she lets out a long, low moan. “Ryan.”

My cock twitches. That sound was too close to the ones she makes when I touch certain other parts of her body.

“You work too hard, flower girl,” I say. “Six days a week is a lot.”

“Yeah, well, tomorrow is Sunday. I’ve got the whole day to rest.”

“One day off a week isnae enough.”

I dig my thumb into her heel, and she whimpers.

“Maybe I can take a long weekend at some point. I’ll have a look at the diary.” She lifts her head and peers at me. “Not only are you sweet, you’re a bit of a mother hen.”

“Bullshit. Though, speaking of mother hens, your maw came by to see me today.”

“I know.” She props herself up on her elbows. “She came into the shop afterwards. We managed a quick cuppa before it got busy and Emmy needed me. Mum told me she apologised and you were very gracious about it.”

“Gracious?” I snort. “Fucking hell. Sweet, mother hen, gracious? You sure you’re no confusing me wi’ someone else?”

“You’re not nearly as scary as you like to think you are, Ryan. Although…do you want to know something? It’s a bit embarrassing, but the very first time I met you, at the flat-warming, I thought you might be a gangster.”

“A gangster?” I wink at her. “Naw, I found a legal way to batter folk for a living.”