A Christmas Break - Annabelle Jacobs Page 0,15

wet.

That wink . . . fuck me, that was hotter than I’d been prepared for. I’d slunk back to my room wondering whether he was actually having a wank in the shower.

Needless to say, I’d had to have one in bed before I did anything constructive.

Just as well Finn was gone when I ventured downstairs because I needed to get myself together before seeing him again. I knew I hadn’t imagined him looking at me on the landing, but he’d made it clear nothing was going to happen between us.

A few hours alone would help wrestle my attraction back into its box. Hopefully.

He wasn’t making it easy though.

Angus kept me company while I put my belongings away and moved things around to my liking. He watched me from the middle of the bed, one eye open as though keeping tabs on me for Finn.

Like his guard cat.

I snorted.

A lazy, half-asleep guard cat who looked like he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. Yet as soon as I heard a key in the front door, Angus was up and off the bed, thundering down the stairs like a herd of elephants.

I followed to the top of the stairs.

“Hey,” Finn crooned, picking Angus up and kissing his head. “Did you miss me, baby?

“Sooo much.” I grinned down at him as his head shot up. “The house was too quiet without you, sweetie.”

“Oh, fuck off.” He laughed, raising his middle finger, which Angus promptly rubbed against.

Feeling far too much like Rapunzel or Juliet with Finn looking up at me like that, I hurried down the stairs to meet him in the hallway. “How was golf?”

He set Angus on the floor and kicked off his shoes. “Good. Bit chilly, but lovely morning to be out.”

Our eyes met, and I was instantly transported back to that moment on the landing. “Um . . . I was just going to make something to eat,” I said quickly, turning toward the kitchen to stave off any awkwardness. “You hungry?”

“Starved.”

As I entered the kitchen, it dawned on me that I hadn’t in fact been food shopping yet. Everything in the fridge and cupboards belonged to Finn. Shit. “So . . .” I turned to face him and offered an apologetic shrug. “I probably need to go shopping first.”

“I figured.” He gently nudged my shoulder as he passed. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve got plenty for a few days.” Reaching into one of the cupboards, he pulled out a flattish cardboard box and opened it to show me recipe cards and what looked like readymade spices or sauces. “I’ve been getting these for a couple of months now. I got bored cooking for one, ended up eating takeaway all the time, so this is my attempt at eating healthier.”

I moved closer to get a better look at the recipe cards he held out.

There were four per box. Turned out he had a few in his cupboard. My stomach rumbled as I flipped through the pictures of delicious-looking food.

“I’ve got the ingredients for these two.” He tapped a picture of a salad and then one with what looked like mini fajitas. “Fancy either of them?”

“They both look great.” I didn’t want to pinch his food though. “Will there be enough?” I really fucking hoped so.

He laughed. “They’re huge, trust me. It’s supposed to feed two anyway, but I usually get three meals out of each one.”

The idea of him eating a meal designed for two on his own caught me off guard, a tightness behind my ribcage, and my voice had a rough edge to it when I spoke. “The fajita one looks good. Can we have that?”

“Yeah, of course. I’ve been dying to try that one.” He beamed and my heart gave a little flutter.

Not good, Jasper.

Not good at all.

“No work today?” Finn asked, looking up from his breakfast as I strolled into the kitchen on Monday morning—wearing a T-shirt and pyjama bottoms this time. I’d learnt my lesson.

And so had he.

I slid onto a stool at the breakfast bar opposite him. “No, I work Tuesday to Friday.”

It was well past ten and Finn was still in his pyjamas as well. “What about you?”

He waved his spoon at the laptop sitting open next to him. “Working from home this morning. Got a meeting over in Swindon this afternoon.”

“What is it you do exactly?” Cole had never said, not that I’d probably asked him. But judging from Finn’s house, it paid well.

“I sell advertising space at golf clubs.” He pushed his