Chapter 4
four
KIT
Awake My Soul - Mumford instead he swung the car onto a large drive. “Anyway, here we are.”
I looked between him and the two houses ahead of us, only a small path separating them. The one on the left I recognized from the photo I’d seen when I’d booked it: a small, cute cottage with ivy climbing the stone walls, antique windows, snow-covered flower bushes in hibernation for the winter.
“Surprised you made it alive?” He grinned cheekily at me.
“A little.” Suddenly, I found myself a little reluctant to leave. I told myself it was the outside cold, the warm air of the car a comfort after wandering around in a snowstorm.
“You still think so little of me?”
I clicked my tongue. “No, that was the tennis thing.”
“Is that why you left the bar so quickly?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged, showing a little more vulnerability than I meant to. “My ex was a tennis player.”
He let out a low sound of understanding. “Ah. Emotional tennis trauma.”
I huffed a laugh. “Exactly. If the job involves a fuzzy green ball, it’s a dealbreaker.”
“Noted,” he said, with a slow grin. “My fuzzy green balls are officially off-limits.”
I gave him a look. “Not like that.”
A mock-innocent expression took over his face. “Whatever do you mean?”
I waited for his expression to crack, for that big goofy smile to return. I could see it simmering under the surface, that devilish glint dancing behind his eyes. And the longer he held it, the harder it was not to crack myself.
“Unbelievable,” I muttered, biting back a grin. “You’re impossible.”
He leaned in, just slightly. “Only when I know it’s working.”
With the distance between us decreased, I was temporarily thrown back into his orbit, sent right back to the bar when he’d only been a cute neighbour that could be good for a steamy hook-up and nothing more. And then the reminder of why that was a terrible idea strolled back into my mind.
“Anyway.” Jonah swallowed, as if he could sense me shutting down on him again. “I can help you with your bag.” He opened his car door, all warmth in the air immediately disappearing, and I was left alone, back at square one.
When I followed him out, he was already trying to drag my suitcase out of the back seat, struggling under the weight as he sat it on the ground.
“What have you got in here?” He gasped for breath. “It’s so heavy.”
“That’s between me and my wardrobe.”
Turning, I inspected the neighbouring building ahead. It was much more modern than the cottage next door, a wood-clad lodge with sharper lines and lots of glass. It was as if there were three metres and three decades separating them.
“Is this your place?” I asked.
“Home, sweet home,” Jonah replied, locking the car behind him.
I looked up to the large balcony on the second floor, the railing wrapped with little multicoloured lights. From inside the wall-length window, I could see a glow of the Christmas tree lights and other assorted decorations.
“Do you live in Santa’s grotto?” I asked sarcastically.
What I got in return was the goofiest grin. “What can I say? I love Christmas.”
Something in the slope of his shoulders, the rosiness that stretched from his cheeks all the way up to his ears, peeking out from under a knitted hat, had me lingering a little longer in the cold.
“Maybe I’ll see you around,” I said, my hopeful tone catching me by surprise.
“Considering the journey between our front doors takes less than three seconds, I think it’s likely.” He stuck his palm out towards me. “It was nice to meet you, Kit.”
I took his hand, holding a little tighter than I’d intended to. At the contact, the warning light flashed again in my mind. However, this time it was dimmer, less of a blaring siren and more of a quiet hum.
Still there, but hushed.
He gave my hand a kind squeeze, let go. “Goodnight, London.” He smiled, turning towards his own door.
“Goodnight, tennis boy,” I replied, turning my attention to the lock box for my door key.
Even after I shut the door behind me, standing in the entrance hall of the cottage, I began to wonder why the warning light had started to feel more like a flicker of something else.