Much Ado About You - Samantha Young Page 0,69

and such. She’d returned just as I was closing up shop, and the sweetheart made dinner for us both.

Roane had texted me during the day to ask me to join him at the pub that evening, and I promised to do so. It was that promise that prevented me from diving into bed early. I was strangely exhausted for what hadn’t been a very busy day, and could only suppose it was the dreary weather.

But I wanted to see Roane. We hadn’t spoken much since the weekend, and I missed him.

It was ludicrous to miss someone I’d seen only days before, but it was also true.

After shooting Greer a reply to her latest email, I changed my sweater but not my skinny jeans. Caro wasn’t in the mood to socialize and had opted to stay home and read, so I found myself heading up to The Anchor around eight o’clock by myself. Thankfully, it had finally stopped raining. The wet cobbles gleamed under the old-fashioned streetlights as I approached the pub, and I couldn’t help but take a photo of the square that made up the main hub of Main Street.

Despite being too early for sunset, the sky was purple from a day of rainfall, and the lights, shadows, stone buildings, and those wrought-iron lamps made a great atmospheric shot for my Instagram.

The pub wasn’t packed but it was still busy with diners as I stepped inside. My eyes immediately sought out the table by the fireplace, and sure enough, there was Roane, sitting and talking with Bobby. I knew Shadow would be at their feet.

Roane was laughing at something Bobby said, his white teeth flashing against his dark beard and tan skin. One large hand rested on the table while his other clutched a pint of lager. I knew every scar and callus on those hands, because like his mouth, those hands drew far too much of my attention.

When I thought of the future, as I had yesterday sitting with Caro and Viola, it left me breathless.

My stepfather, Phil, had a friend who owned stables. Not long after he and Mom started dating, Phil took us there, and I got on a horse for the first and last time.

Because I fell off it.

I’d landed with such force, all the air went out of my lungs. I remember not knowing what was worse—the pain from the fall or the panic of not being able to breathe.

The mere thought of leaving Roane Robson was akin to falling off that horse.

Yet worse.

Much, much worse.

“You all right, Evie, lass?”

I blinked to find Milly in front of me. I stared down at her as her face came into focus. “What?”

She patted my arm and smiled reassuringly. “It happens to the best of us.”

“What?” I shook my head, wondering if she’d said something prior to asking after my well-being.

“Go.” She nodded her head to Roane and Bobby. “I’ll bring you over a cider.”

“Okay.” I frowned, a little confused by our encounter. As I made my way through the tables toward Roane, he looked up and our eyes met.

That disorientating feeling of thrill mixed with contentment hit me with more force than usual as I drew toward him. Sometimes it felt like we were two magnets, my south seeking his north.

“Hey.” I smiled as I reached the table.

Roane reached up to rub his hand along my lower back as he smiled warmly at me. “Evie.”

It was something a boyfriend would do. Not a mere friend.

But I didn’t care.

I liked his strong hands on me.

Much more than any mere friend should.

“Evie.” Bobby grinned as he stood up. “I was just leaving.”

“Was it something I said?”

“No, no,” he hurried to reassure me. “I really do need to get home. See you tomorrow.” He nodded at Roane and then winked at me. “Night, lass.”

At his abrupt departure, I slipped into the seat he’d vacated. Brows puckering as I reached down to pet a sleepy Shadow, I asked, “He really didn’t leave because of me?”

Roane shook his head, his mouth curling up at the corners. “He’s just being a good husband. And a good friend.”

“A good friend?”

His smile was far too wicked and flirtatious. “Bobby knows I like having you to myself.”

Oh, he really had to stop saying such things. Heat pooled low in my belly, and I shifted uncomfortably. “Right,” I practically squeaked.

My friend laughed, a deep, rumbly, masculine knowing laugh that caused me to flush with sexual awareness.

Thankfully, Milly appeared at that moment with my cider and asked

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