The Wedding Engagement

Chapter Five

“Come on, pal. Just a wee bite,” Arran said in a singsong voice, as Jayce eyed the broccoli speared on the fork with suspicion.

“No. I don’t like broccy, Daddy,” Jayce said with a tone of disparagement.

Not one to give up that easily, Arran continued to cajole his son into taking a bite of something nutritious. Inevitably his mind wandered to Liv’s pending arrival in a couple of hours, his thirst to lay eyes on her intensifying. His mind drifted to remember when she’d jokingly mentioned strippers the other day over at Sam’s house, and an image of her as the naked dancing lady had crashed into his mind’s eye like the meteor that had allegedly killed off the dinosaurs. It’d made him inhale his drink and nearly choke to death at Sam and Maya’s kitchen table.

Death by champagne. What a middle-class way to go.

The doorbell sounded, bringing him out of his thoughts, and he eyed his watch. “Who’s that?”

Wondering why pretty much every human in existence asked that question when an unexpected visitor called, despite the fact that no answer would be provided until the door was, in fact, answered, he left Jayce at the table for a second to jog down the hallway and open the door.

His heart nearly stopped when he found Liv standing there, wearing a cute fitted T-shirt that read “Teacher, Because Superhero Is Not an Official Title” with her faded jeans, biker jacket, and white Converse.

“Hey,” she said, pushing her purple-framed glasses up her nose and brushing a wave of dark chestnut hair from her forehead.

For a moment, he was thrown. “You’re early.”

She smiled. “Yeah. I got changed at the dojo and came straight over. Thought I’d give you a head start on the painting.”

The view of the green hills peeked out in the distance behind her, bringing out the green of her eyes. And the early afternoon sun caught her hair, creating a russet glow around the top of her head. Like a halo. Arran pictured exactly which paints in his studio he would mix to create the warm waves of her hair. His autumnal shades. And the hue of her eyes would come from the collection he thought of as his sea tones.

Liv raised an eyebrow. “So, am I allowed in, or is there a special password now?”

Clearing his throat, he shifted to allow her past him. Her scent filled his lungs as she moved, like sweet berries mixed with vanilla. He felt like one of those old-style cartoon characters, set adrift through the air as their nose followed the trail of a delicious smell. “That’s so awesome of you,” he finally managed to get out. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” she said, giving him a side five before moving down the hallway to the open-plan kitchen at the end. He squeezed his hand into a fist to dispel his awareness of the touch of her skin. The blind date had brought with it a sense of clarity, leading to the realization that his instigation of that greeting had been driven by an unconscious but powerful need to make physical contact with her.

Jayce spied her enter the kitchen and his face lit up. “Hiya, Lib!”

“Hey there, buddy,” she said, heading over and kissing his chubby cheek. “How you doing? Broccoli! My favorite. How about we eat some of this scrummy stuff while Daddy goes painting?” She lifted the fork, sitting next to Jayce. “Here comes the choo-choo…” She made “chugga-chugga” noises and swooped the fork down, Jayce automatically opening his mouth and taking a bite while Liv whooped as his own personal cheerleader.

Smiling at their antics, Arran left for the studio, the sound of Liv and Jayce giggling following him down the hallway.

He opened the door that led from the hallway into his studio, which he had converted from the garage the year before. Closing it behind him, he leaned against it for a moment.

His escalating feelings for Liv were getting out of hand. She was his best friend’s sister. They’d been in the same class at school. When they were ten, he’d pretended to the entire year group that she had nits and earned himself an uppercut to the gut from her, for God’s sake.

There was also the fact that a romantic relationship with anyone was not what he needed right now. This time the previous year, he’d been in full-on wedding-planning mode, and when his ex had broken things off, he’d been blindsided. How on earth hadn’t he realized that she no longer loved him? Was he that dense? He couldn’t trust his own feelings, that was for sure. In fact—that must be it. His emotions were such a fucking mess that it was making him irrational over Liv.

Moving over to his latest canvas, he began preparing what he needed to continue. The act of mixing the paints was therapeutic, though this time it didn’t fully banish the turmoil of his thoughts.

He’d been determined to concentrate on Jayce and his new business, and he’d been pleased with how he’d managed both those things. That was how it needed to stay. Jayce and painting were his top priorities, and there was no room for anything else. Not since Jess had left him anyway. She used to occupy the top spot too, alongside their little dude.

Anyway, Liv helped everyone, and she would have offered her assistance to any of her other friends who needed her. That was one of the things he loved about her. Well, one of the things he really liked about her anyway. Love was a bit extreme. He didn’t love her. Just because she was his best friend who totally got him, and she was his favorite person in the world to spend time with apart from his son, plus he was off-the-charts attracted to her didn’t mean he loved her.

He hadn’t been able to resist clearing the air about their blind date because he couldn’t leave her thinking he’d been disappointed to see her. Nor could he resist telling her how gorgeous she’d looked—he wanted her to hear what a smoke show she was. But he’d noticed the way she’d blushed hard, those pretty cheeks turning bright red, and so he’d changed the subject to spare her further embarrassment. Though up until that point he’d wondered whether there had been some interest flickering in her green eyes…

Making a decent start with his painting, he resolved to stop torturing himself with the unattainable what-ifs regarding his relationship with Liv.

—

“Perfect,” Arran murmured to himself as he finished the final brushstroke and took a step back, wiping his hands on a cloth. The portrait work was turning out to be very lucrative, with customers keen to commission them for loved ones’ birthdays and special occasions. Maybe one day soon, he’d be able to get shot of the office work he’d had to take up after his redundancy money had run dry. At least he’d gotten the studio well off the ground by the time that had occurred.

His pulse fired when he realized it was after Jayce’s dinnertime. He’d gotten lost in his work and the day had slipped through his fingers like sand. Poor Liv would be desperate to leave.

Striding to the doorway, he opened it and went down the hall, past the living room and into the kitchen, but Liv and Jayce weren’t around. A flash of color caught his eye through the patio window, and as he moved toward it, he spotted them. Liv was chasing Jayce across the garden, scooping him up and making him squeal with delight.

Warmth flooded his chest. Watching them together always gave him this comforting glow inside.

Liv caught his presence and gave him a wave, coming toward the patio door with Jayce chattering away on her hip.

Arran opened the door for them. “Hey, sorry I’m so late. I got carried away.”

She came through the doorway and into the dining area, setting Jayce down, where he cried, “I’ll get you, dragon!,” then ran off to grab his toy sword and shield from the corner.

“Oof. He’s getting so heavy,” Liv said, rubbing her arms. “And no problem, we’ve been having fun. I hope you made good progress?”

Arran nodded, smiling. “I’ve finished it.”

Her eyes widened. “That’s brilliant. Can I have a look later?”

That was the other thing about Liv. She was so enthusiastic about his art, and really invested in his success. But, he reminded himself, she was the same with everybody. It didn’t mean there was anything special about him.

“Course you can,” he said, shoving his pesky feelings to one side. “I’d love your opinion. But don’t you need to get away?”

She shrugged. “Nah. I figured I’d stay and fix Jayce his dinner while you clean up.”

Guilt needled his chest as he ran a hand over his hair, watching Jayce attack one of the kitchen chairs with his sword. “I can’t ask you to do that, when you’ve already given up your entire afternoon for me.”

Arching an eyebrow, she gave him a mock-stern stare that borderline turned him on. “I wanted to do it because I like helping with Jayce. And now I’m offering to do this too. Because you’re my friend.”

Her friend. That’s all. “That would be awesome, if you’re sure.”

She lifted her hand to rub his cheek and the sensation made his breath catch in his throat.

As she brought her hand away, silver paint residue was apparent on her fingers. Liv smiled. “I’m sure. Because you really need a wash.”

Arran laughed, somewhat dispelling the fiery sensation that her touch had created on his skin. “Charming.”

Grinning, Liv wiped her fingers on a piece of paper towel. “I’m surprised you have any paint left to go on the canvas, when there’s always so much on you.” She moved into the kitchen. “I’ve got something to heat for Jayce’s tea, so you go wash up.”

Jayce turned his attention to the next kitchen chair, apparently having vanquished the first “dragon” and now preparing to defeat number two.

Lingering by the doorway, Arran realized that even though Liv had been in his house for a few hours, he’d hardly seen her. And he didn’t like that. Clearing his throat, he leaned against the doorframe, aware that he shouldn’t suggest what he was about to but couldn’t help himself. “Do you want to hang out for a bit before you go? It’d be nice to get a bit of chat in. You can teach me some karate-master mind control.”

She laughed. “That’s not a thing, Arran.” She hesitated a beat, glancing at him as she warmed a pot on the hob. “But that would be great. I’d love to hang out.” For a second her gaze seemed drawn to where his arms were folded. Then she looked back at the pot and stirred it.

Shifting from one foot to the other, he shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do you want to grab some food? I’ll treat you to a takeaway.”

“I’d love that,” Liv said quickly. She paused, then stirred the pot more fervently. “Thanks.”

“Cool,” he replied, his heart lifting and pushing the corners of his mouth into a smile. This was fine. Two friends having dinner, nothing untoward. “Right. Better get cleaned up, after my friend told me I was stinky.”

“Stinky Daddy,” Jayce sang as he continued to battle invisible dragon number two, indicating that the sneaky blighter was always listening.

Liv laughed. “I only said you had paint on you. You still smell really good.” Her smile faded and she bent toward the pot, fiddling with the heat.

Arran exited the room to let her get on. She was clearly trying to concentrate on what she was doing.

He headed into the master bedroom en suite, taking off his clothing and climbing into the shower. Normally he liked it hot, but for some reason he felt like he needed the cold today. He turned it down a couple of notches. Funny, because February in the Highlands wasn’t very warm.

He quickly finished his shower, drying and dressing. As he pulled on a fresh shirt, the options for dinner ran through his mind. He had a hankering for pizza, and that was Liv’s favorite. She liked pepperoni, and he a veggie supreme. They usually shared half and half whenever the group ordered pizza together. Thank goodness she didn’t like Hawaiian; otherwise, he would’ve had to seriously reconsider their friendship. Fruit had no business on a pizza.

Jogging down the stairs, he smiled at the thought that there could, in reality, ever be a situation that would make him not want to be friends with Liv.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, he entered the kitchen, where Jayce was tucking into his dinner, encouraged by Liv. “Right,” he said, pulling out his phone and opening the well-thumbed pizza-delivery app. “One pepperoni and one veggie?”

Liv groaned in delight. “You read my mind.”

He grinned as he typed in the order. “See? Never say I don’t know how to please a woman.”

Liv helped Jayce with his spoon. “No danger.”

A little color seemed to flush her cheeks, but she was turned away from him, so perhaps it was just the angle.

Arran shoved his phone back into his pocket. “Done!” He moved over to Liv, giving her a nudge. “Shift. You get your feet up before the pizza comes.” He managed to displace her from the chair she was sitting on and slid onto it to take over the supervision of Jayce’s dinnertime. Jayce banged his little cutlery on the table, singing “Old MacDonald Had a Farm.”

She watched them for a moment. “Spoilsport. I like spending time with him.”

Arran grinned. “Make yourself useful. Get some of your signature tea on.”

Liv huffed out a breath. “Fine. Then I want to see your portrait.” She turned and headed for the kettle, putting it on and making them a mug each.

Taking his steaming mug from her, he watched her settle into the seat next to him, absorbing the hue of her eyes. Jade ground with sea glass. His mind’s eye drifted to his paints, and which tones he would select to do them justice.

He blinked hard in an attempt to concentrate on the here and now. His artistic brain was always getting distracted with these little thoughts. He sometimes found himself pausing to take in a scene on a walk, pondering how he’d replicate the blue of the sky and the manner in which it reflected off a loch, or admiring his friend’s eyes and wondering how he’d bring out their sparkle on canvas. Though for some reason, Liv was the only friend he imagined painting.

“You okay?”

Arran sat straighter. She was eyeing him curiously. “Yeah, fine.” He sipped his tea. “Why?”

She shrugged. “You seemed miles away.”

Setting his mug down, he turned away to clean up Jayce (who was now giving an excellent rendition of “The Wheels on the Bus”), hoping she wouldn’t register his discomfort at being caught daydreaming about her. He stood to unbuckle Jayce from his booster seat and lift him out, joining in with his singing and drawing a soft smile from Liv.

“Can I have a peek at the portrait now?” she asked, getting to her feet.

His chest swelled with pride that she was so keen. “Yep,” he replied, placing Jayce on his hip and moving ahead of her.

“Can I bring my tea?” Liv asked.

“Yeah.” He shot her a glance over his shoulder. “But don’t spill it on my stuff or I shall have to chastise you.”

She raised an eyebrow at him and desire exploded in his belly. Striding ahead, he opened the studio door and held it for her as she came past. Jayce was getting a bit wriggly, and letting him loose among the paints was not a good idea, so Arran placed him in the small play area he had cordoned off by the window. The wee one set to work building a brick tower, which Arran knew would be deliberately brought crashing down by his son in a few seconds’ time.

“This is beautiful,” Liv said, her voice laden with awe.

He turned to where she stood in front of the canvas, staring at the middle-aged woman with long, flowing, silvery hair that he had painstakingly rendered on it over the last several weeks.

Drawing level with Liv, he took in her expression. Her lips were parted and eyes wide as she took in his work. “You like it?” he asked, pride rising in his chest. Her opinion meant the world to him.

She kept her eyes on the painting. “I love it,” she said softly. She placed her mug down and lifted her hand to touch the photo pinned next to the canvas, from which he had replicated the painting. “She’s beautiful. I love how you’ve captured her eyes.”

Arran cleared his throat. “The eyes are my favorite part.”

Liv nodded, still mesmerized. “Did she commission it herself?”

“No. Her husband did. For their silver wedding anniversary,” Arran replied, remembering the doting man who had personally visited to bring him the photograph.

“Oh yes. I remember you saying it was for an anniversary. That’s so romantic,” she murmured, fingering the photo again. Her face morphed into a frown.

Shifting closer, he touched her arm. “All right?”

She blinked, pushing her glasses up her nose with a smile and meeting his eyes. “Yep.” She sighed. “Good work, Mr. Adebayo. You are a talented man.”

Studying her for a moment, he wondered where her thoughts had been a few seconds ago.

“Me and Lib made a fort, Daddy!” Jayce said from inside his play area.

Liv placed her palm on her forehead. “I almost forgot! Jayce and I need to show you the fort we built in the living room.”

He smiled as she went over to Jayce and lifted him out of the play area, taking his hand to walk over to the door. “Let’s show Daddy.”

Arran made for the door. But as he opened it for Liv, she placed a hand on his chest. His pulse spiked as she looked him in the eye.

“You wait here until I call you,” she said, her familiar scent filling his lungs as she moved past with Jayce.

For a second, he was silent, trying to recover. “Why?”

Disappearing across the hall into the living room, she called over her shoulder, “We need to set up the moat.”

The door closed behind them, and he laughed. He loved the random quirky stuff that came out of her mouth. The pale pink hue of her lips sprang into his mind as he shifted into the hallway. They always appeared so soft, kissable and…

“Ready!” she yelled from the living room.

He grasped the door handle, the curve of Liv’s mouth on his mind. Opening it, he let out a laugh as he surveyed the scene. Blue and green blankets were draped over stacks of storage boxes that held Jayce’s toys, creating a tent-shaped structure. There was shiny blue wrapping paper on the floor surrounding the perimeter, representing the glinting surface of a moat. A piece of cardboard leaned up over the opening where the edges of two blankets touched.

Liv’s voice boomed out of the fort. “Who goes there?”

Jayce’s giggles followed.

Arran cleared his throat, putting on a deep voice. “It is I, Sir Paints-a-Lot.”

“Hmm. Sir Paints-a-Lot. Let me confer with my master. What say you, Lord Jayce?”

“No! No daddies allowed.”

“Hey!” Arran said, moving closer and trying to peer between the blankets. “I want to be in the fort gang.”

He still couldn’t see Liv, but he heard her sigh. “I’ll try to convince him. But my master is rather stubborn.” She paused. “Master Jayce. Daddy Paints-a-Lot says please.”

“Ah, okay. C’mon, Daddy!” Jayce piped up.

There was a rustling noise as Liv’s voice sounded again. “You may enter.”

The piece of cardboard was lowered to the floor, attached to a couple of pieces of string. Arran grinned as he got to his knees and crawled over it and through the curtain of the blankets. Pausing, he took in the cozy-looking den Liv had created inside. Fairy lights hung around the top, and the floor was covered in soft cushions, with a light blue fleecy throw on top. Shifting right inside, he sat next to Liv, who was grinning at him, clearly proud of her work. Jayce was brum-brumming a truck over the cushions next to her.

“Great job,” he said, settling in next to her and leaning back against the wall.

“Why, thank you, good Sir Knight.” She did a funny little half bow that drew a laugh from his lips.

Smiling, she leaned next to him. “What time’s my pepperoni coming?”

He raised his eyebrows. “ Your pepperoni? I assumed we’d be sharing again.”

Pursing her lips, she gave him a withering stare. “Never assume , Mr. Adebayo. For then you make an ass of ‘u’ and me.”

Giving her arm a nudge, he stuck out his bottom lip in a pout. She glanced down at his mouth for a moment, the smile fading from her face. Then she met his eyes again, her expression brightening. “Fine, then.” She sniffed. “You and your emotional blackmail.”

He pumped his fist, reveling in her smile. “It’ll be here in about an hour. I wanted time to get Jayce bathed and into bed so we can munch in peace without toy trucks getting pushed through our pizza.”

“Sounds like a plan.” She smoothed down the dark waves of her hair and his eyes were dragged along with the movement of her hand. He imagined how he might capture the way her glossy hair curled softly, framing the creamy paleness of her skin. And the light dusting of freckles across her nose…

“Arran?” she said, frowning. “What’s up?”

He cleared his throat, glancing away. “Nothing.” Placing his hand on the soft throw beside him, he fiddled with a corner. “I’ll go and get Jayce bathed. You can have a rest inside the comfiest fort in Scotland.”

“Nah,” she said, shifting next to him. “I’ll help. I like bath time.”

“Is it bath time?” Jayce asked, looking at them wide-eyed. He loved the bath. Mainly, Arran suspected, because he adored soaking everyone within a five-mile radius.

“C’mon, then, troops,” Arran announced, crawling toward the exit. “Company, march!” Leaving the fort, he scooped Jayce up, then began a march out of the living room and up the stairs with Jayce laughing and Liv matching his steps from behind.

Setting Jayce down on the landing, he closed the stair gate and made for the bathroom, turning on the taps and squirting in some bubble bath. Liv appeared next to him, leading Jayce in by the hand and beginning to undress him, the two of them chatting away about the fort and how Jayce had defeated the dragon that tried to attack its defenses. She folded his clothes in a little pile on the floor while Arran tested the water with his elbow. We make a good team.

Lifting Jayce into the water, Arran attempted to wash him. It was a bit like cleaning a slippery octopus, with Jayce flailing around and seeming to sprout extra arms and legs. Plus he kept getting up and moving around, then sitting back down with a huge splash. Eventually he met Arran’s eyes with a wide-eyed smile that signaled danger. But before Arran could issue a tsunami alert, Jayce launched himself down with a force that about emptied all the water from the bath. Arran ducked to avoid the worst of it, but unfortunately, Liv wasn’t as quick, being less experienced in the watery perils of bath time. She blinked from behind her droplet-speckled glasses, drips falling from the soaked tendrils of her hair.

Arran snorted, hiding his mouth behind his hand.

“Oi, you,” she said, giving him a shove. She grinned. “Don’t laugh at me when I’m in the midst of being drowned.”

“Sorry,” he said, trailing off as he took in the fact that her T-shirt was soaked to the skin. The white fabric clung to the appealing swells of her breasts, the outline of her bra apparent. Fuck. He glanced away, clearing his throat. “He got your top good and proper.”

Out of the corner of his eye he saw her glance down, clearly realizing how much was on display, because she hugged her arms around herself.

Reaching quickly for a towel, he passed it over, keeping his eyes off her. Once she’d wrapped it around her shoulders, he looked at her again. “You can go and change into something of mine, until your shirt dries off.”

Liv stood, bringing the towel close around her, her cheeks streaked with pink. “Thanks. Which one should I borrow?”

“Anything you like,” he told her, trying to banish the uncomfortably clear image of her shapely breasts from his mind. “They’re in the second drawer down.”

She disappeared out of the bathroom and Arran shoved aside the thought that Olivia Holland was in his bedroom right now, taking off her top and standing there in her bra as she rifled through his T-shirt drawer. He gritted his teeth as he emptied the bath. “Get a grip.”

Lifting Jayce out, he dried him off and got him into his nightwear. How was it possible that he’d known Liv practically all his life—only seeing her as his friend’s goofy sister—and then that had all changed?

Now he couldn’t look at her without imagining how good it would feel to kiss her, to have her fingers dig into his hair, urging him on. So much for his earlier resolve to stop those kinds of thoughts. His own fault for asking her to stay for pizza.

He took Jayce through to the nursery, tucking him into his little bed. A movement at the door caught his eye, and as he glanced up, his heart rose into his throat.

Liv was wearing one of his favorite T-shirts—the green brought out her eyes, and there was no denying that seeing her in one of his shirts gave him a thrill. He liked that it was oversized on her petite form, as if some part of him was surrounding her. Protecting her.

“Is it okay if I borrow this one?” she asked, eyeing him and clearly misinterpreting his staring to mean he was displeased with her choice. Far from it.

“Of course,” he said, flashing her a smile. “It’s one of my faves. It suits you.”

She smiled, holding the edges of the tee in a self-conscious manner. Then she crouched next to him. “Can I do his story?”

He nodded, his mouth dry.

“Cool,” she said softly, stroking Jayce’s hair. “I like doing the voices.”

Grinning, Arran settled back. “Really? I’m staying, then. Gotta hear this.”

Liv shrugged, seeming unperturbed by the thought of an audience. “We nursery school teachers have to be good at the voices. Otherwise, you don’t get past the first round of interviews.”

She lifted their well-thumbed copy of The Gruffalo and began to read. Each animal was read in a different accent and was a fair representation of the actors who played the parts in the animated version. He found himself mesmerized by her rendition, joining in with Jayce as they spoke aloud the repeated lines.

She was so good with Jayce, and the wee one adored her. Another reason to keep his hands off her. If he screwed up their friendship, then not only would he lose Liv, but it would also affect her relationship with his son. Making a move on her would be the height of selfishness.

The doorbell rang, signaling the pizza guy’s arrival, and Arran found himself disappointed at having to leave them to go and answer it. He gave Jayce a kiss on the forehead, ruffling Liv’s hair as he got up to leave, then regretting it when even that brief platonic gesture caused fire to crackle across his skin.

He reached the front door to accept the warm pizza boxes, gave the guy a tip, then took them into the kitchen and got some plates ready. On a whim, he decided that they should eat the pizza in the fort. So, he took the boxes in there along with the plates and a couple of glasses of water, plus a cup of tea for Liv because she was the only person he knew who had a hot drink with a hot meal. He smiled as he made it just the way she liked it, with a splash of milk.

Footsteps on the stairs announced Liv’s descent, and he called through to alert her that he was in the living room.

“Are you in the fort?” she asked, poking her head into the area.

“Yep,” he replied, patting the space next to him. “Come on in.”

She settled in next to him, lifting a slice of each pizza onto her plate. “I cannot wait to scoff this.” She bit into the first slice, and a string of cheese connected her mouth and the remainder of the slice. She caught it, breaking the string and sucking it from her finger.

Arran glanced away, shifting uncomfortably as his jeans suddenly began to feel too tight. Spending more time alone with her had been a bad idea. But it was too late to go back on it now. Anyway, he was a grown man. He could control his emotions and his physical urges.

They demolished every last bite, wiping their faces and hands on some napkins and tossing them into the boxes.

Arran adjusted the cushions behind them so they could lie back comfortably. “Ugh. I’m so full I think I might die of a cheese overdose.”

Liv sighed. “A great way to go.”

He shifted to the side a little to look at her. “Agreed.”

Mirroring him, she smiled. “What would be another great way to go?”

“Hmm.” He thought for a moment, trying not to get lost in her eyes. “A chocolate overdose?”

“Yeah, maybe.” She pursed her lips and he had to work hard to keep his eyes off them. “But I might prefer a scone overdose. No wait, a tea and scone overdose.”

He laughed. “You guys are so obsessed with scones.”

“But they’re so light and fluffy and tasty,” she replied, widening her eyes in a manner that seemed to make them luminescent in the soft light.

“They are,” he said, losing the battle to keep his eyes off her mouth.

“What about a non-food-related way?” She paused, biting her lower lip. “A love overdose.”

Arran raised an eyebrow. “How would that work?” He hesitated, unable to stop his mind from wandering onto lust-related activities, especially when she was biting her lip like that. “You mean like having a heart attack after strenuous sex?”

She laughed hard, taking her glasses off to rub her eyes when they teared up. “Okay. I walked into that one.”

Smiling, he admired how her pretty features looked the same and yet so different without her glasses on. He liked how she looked either way. He just liked how she looked, full stop. Lifting a hand, he brushed a wave of hair from her face. “What did you mean?”

Her gaze meshed with his and it sent his heart tripping. “I was thinking about the woman in your painting. About how much her husband must worship her to commission her portrait.”

He smiled. “Yeah. He clearly doted on her. I could see it in his eyes when he described what he wanted.”

Liv swallowed. “What if you lived your whole life with your true love. Then, one night, when you were both super old, you went to sleep together and never woke up?”

Arran frowned, studying the earnest look in her eyes. “Not gonna lie, that’s a little more morbid than I thought we were going with this.”

Smiling, she shook her head. “Sorry, I’m not explaining it properly. It’s like the couple’s souls are interlinked. And after a lifetime of so much love, death overcomes them simultaneously, so they pass peacefully, enveloped in their love like a warm blanket. And neither has to live on without the other.”

Thrown by the sentiment, he got caught in the green of her eyes, his breath catching in his throat. Growing old with Jess was a gift he’d assumed was his, but it hadn’t worked out that way. They’d gradually grown apart and he hadn’t even noticed, until she called off the wedding and then quickly moved on. A new boyfriend, who she was clearly infatuated with, because they’d moved in together after only a few weeks. The hollow feeling the rejection had created in his chest was still there, though time had made it less cavernous, filled to some extent by the love of his family and friends.

“I’m sure I sound dumb,” Liv said, putting her glasses back on.

“No,” he replied softly. “It’s not dumb at all. I get what you’re saying. And yes, it would be a good way to go.”

Her soft smile made his heart ache. He wanted to ask her more, but then Liv’s phone buzzed and the moment was lost.

Lifting it, she studied the screen, her frown melting away into a smile. “Maya says they’ve booked a date for the wedding, at Glenavie Castle! There was a cancellation.”

A bittersweet rush filled his chest. This time the previous year, it should’ve been him getting married. But his best mate’s finding the love of his life made up for the sadness of that. “The castle? Brilliant. That’s so lucky of them, by the way.”

“I know, right?” she said, her smile lighting up her face. “The most coveted wedding venue in the area.”

His own phone buzzed, and it was Sam with the same news. Arran added the date to his calendar, tapping out a message to Jess to say that particular weekend was off-limits for any changes to their arrangements for Jayce. He couldn’t handle saying no when she asked, mostly because he jumped at the chance to have his son. But perhaps also because he didn’t like saying no to Jess either.

Liv was eyeing him.

“What is it?” he asked.

Her voice was wary. “Are you okay with all this?”

He frowned, glancing around the fort. “With all this ? I mean, fairy lights aren’t normally my thing. But they really set the place off.”

She laughed softly. “Not the fort decor. The wedding stuff. Does it make you sad?”

Arran hesitated. Nobody else had seemed to click that he harbored a little sadness. Not that he was sad in a big way; he wasn’t going to be a dick about it. This was Sam and Maya’s time and he wanted that for them. Plus, Elise’s feelings were more important than his, because her husband had died last year. His being jilted by his fiancée was hardly a big deal in comparison. But still, it meant something to him that Liv had noticed. “A little. But I’m so happy for them that I don’t really think about it much.”

Nodding, she held his gaze for a beat, as if she wanted to say more. But then she glanced at her watch. “I’d better head out. I’ve been in your hair long enough.”

She sat up, and he found himself disappointed that she was leaving. “I invited you into my hair,” he told her. “And you can stay in there as long as you like.”

Laughing, she crawled out of the fort and he had to avert his eyes to prevent his gaze from being drawn to the perfectly round shape of her arse. As he emerged behind her, she ruffled his hair. “It is nice and soft in there. But I’d better head home.”

He followed her to the door, where she pulled on her jacket and Converse. She leaned in to kiss his cheek, sending an electric current down his spine.

“Thanks for your help today,” he said. “I couldn’t have gotten that portrait finished without you.”

She gave him a salute. “No problem, Sir Paints-a-Lot. Happy to oblige.”

Leaning against the doorframe as she exited, he eyed her. “When are we hanging out again?” He knew he shouldn’t ask. But not knowing when he’d next see her felt uncomfortable.

“I’ll text you.” She gave him a wave and climbed into her car. Arran couldn’t resist watching her right until she pulled off the driveway and out of his sight.

Arran eventually called it a night and got ready for bed. As he turned off the light and lay in the darkness, he wondered why his thoughts of Liv were intensifying. It was as if he could smell her scent in the air.

Glancing across the room, he realized her T-shirt was still there, drying on the radiator. I really should take it off there. This isn’t helping me any.

He stared at it for a few seconds, willing himself to get out of bed and lift it from where it hung. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Inhaling a big breath, he let his mind wander into dreams of her as he fell asleep.