‘You told her I was grovelling?’
Claire grinned. ‘She just laughed and said grovelling isn’t in your vocabulary, and she’d give it a week before we started sniping at each other again.’
He moved closer. ‘I’m definitely not grovelling, but I’m not sniping either.’ He paused. ‘In fact, I’d rather just kiss you.’
‘I’d rather that, too,’ she said softly, ‘but I’m not ready for Ash to know about this yet.’
‘So I’m your dirty little secret?’
‘For now—and I’m yours,’ she said.
At the end of the evening, Sean said, ‘Claire, it’s raining—I’ll give you a lift home to save you getting drenched.’
‘This is quite some truce,’ Ashleigh said, giving them both a piercing look. ‘Though you probably won’t make it back to Claire’s before the ceasefire ends.’
‘I won’t fight if she doesn’t,’ Sean said. ‘Claire?’
‘No fighting, and thank you very much for the offer of the lift.’
Ashleigh narrowed her eyes at both of them, but didn’t say any more.
‘Do you have any idea how close you were to breaking our cover?’ Claire asked crossly on the way home. ‘I’m sure Ash has guessed.’
‘What’s your problem with anyone knowing about you and me?’ Sean asked.
‘Because it’s still early days. And, actually, unless my calendar’s wrong, you’ll be dumping me in the next few days anyway.’
‘How do you work that out?’
‘Because, Sean Farrell, you never date anyone for more than three weeks in a row.’
‘I don’t dump my girlfriends exactly three weeks in to a relationship,’ he said. ‘That’s a little old and a little unfair.’
‘But you dump them,’ Claire persisted.
‘No, I break up with them nicely and I make them feel it’s their decision,’ he corrected.
‘When it’s actually yours.’
He shrugged. ‘If it makes them feel better about the situation, what’s the problem?’
‘You’re impossible.’
He laughed. ‘Ashleigh said we wouldn’t make it back to your place before we started fighting. She was right.’
‘I’m not fighting, I’m just making a statement of facts—and don’t you dare kiss me to shut me up,’ she warned.
‘I can’t kiss you when I’m driving,’ Sean pointed out, ‘so that’s a rain check.’
‘You really are the most exasperating...’ Unable to think of a suitable retort, she lapsed into silence.
‘Besides,’ he said softly, ‘you’d be bored to tears with a yes-man or a lapdog.’
‘Lapdog?’ she asked, not following.
‘“When husbands or when lapdogs breathe their last.” Alexander Pope,’ he explained helpfully.
She rolled her eyes. ‘I forgot you did English A level.’
‘And dated a couple of English teachers.’
‘Would one of those have been the one who made you see a certain rom-com more than once?’
‘Yes. At least you haven’t done that.’
‘You’re still impossible,’ she grumbled.
‘Yup,’ he said cheerfully.
‘And, excuse me, you just missed the turning to my place.’
‘Because we’re not going to your place. We’re going to mine.’
‘But I have a bride coming in first thing tomorrow morning for a final fitting,’ she protested.
‘I have a washer-dryer, an alarm clock, a spare unused toothbrush, and I’ll run you home after breakfast.’
She sighed. ‘You’ve got an answer for everything.’
‘Most things,’ he corrected, and she groaned.
‘I give up.’
‘Good,’ he said.
He stripped her very slowly once he’d locked his front door behind them, put her clothes in the laundry, then took her to bed. And he was as good as his word, finding her a spare toothbrush, making her coffee in the morning, making sure her clothes were dried, and taking her home.
She kissed him lingeringly in the car. ‘See you later. And thanks for the lift.’
* * *
Ashleigh dropped by at lunchtime.
‘Well, hello, stranger—long time, no see,’ Claire teased. ‘What is it, a little over twelve hours?’
‘We’re having lunch,’ Ashleigh said. ‘Now.’
‘Why does this feel as if you’re about to tell me off?’ Claire asked.
‘Because I am. When did this all happen?’
Claire tried to look innocent. ‘When did all what happen?’