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“I can carry something.”

“The rug.” He jerked his chin in the direction of a tartan rug he’d folded across one of the kitchen chairs. “I keep it in the boot, in case I find a spot to stop for a while.”

“When was the last time you used it?”

“An injured dog. Some idiot on a bike took a corner at speed and took out the dog. A kid came running, tears streaming down his cheeks at the sight of his battered pooch. I drove them home.”

“That was kind.” She folded the rug over her arm.

“Would you have abandoned a crying kid and an injured dog?”

“Probably not.”

“I rest my case. Have you got a hat?”

“Anna left an old one in the bottom of her closet. Here it is.” She plucked the hat off a rack near the door and jammed it on her head.

“It’s back to front.” He righted the hat for her, catching some of her flyaway hair in his fingers. He rubbed the skein—soft, silky—then pulled his hand back before sliding his fingers into the hair at the nape of her neck to test the texture there. And the heat. He bet she was warm everywhere.

He wanted to stroke his fingers down her cheek. Again. Cup her face for his kiss.Again. Their shared kisses in the café had made their cuddle on the sofa inevitable. His body ached for more.

Not gonna happen.

“Let’s get going.” Cas plonked his hat on his head.

Once on the street, he turned south, winding his way through the back streets of Glebe emerging fifteen minutes later on to the main road at the junction of Ross Street and Parramatta Road.

“Are you going to tell me where we’re going?”

“The University Oval. I love this place. Loved it when I attended, love it still. It’s an oasis between Glebe and Newtown. They have reputations as party suburbs or food centres or just interesting strips to walk down. But you know all that.” He breathed deeply, anticipating the escape offered by a picnic blanket and a companion he’d never expected to have.

“Did Hunter study here?”

“Part-time, at night. In those days, he was working as a builder’s labourer for his uncle. Sometimes, he’d come with me to see a game. Women’s Rugby League was always a lure.” Cas grinned at the memories.

“Is there a game on today?”

“There might be,” he said. The traffic lights changed, giving them the go-to cross into the university grounds. “The hill’s a good spot, with a few snug places to prop your back and watch the game. Did you play a sport?”

“At school I did.” She followed him a few hundred metres up the road, then detoured to take a place on the hill. “Now, I dance.”

“Ballet? Modern?”

“Nothing formal. I love to dance. I make up the steps as I go along, or imitate moves from music clips or TV shows in my room.”

“Can I watch?”

“That fact is not for sharing. Or viewing.”

“Noted.” He was tickled by the secret she’d just handed him. “Do you get all hot and sweaty?”

“The other night you wanted to know if I was angry. Now you want to know if I get all hot and sweaty. What’s the obsession with extreme emotions?”

“Not extreme. I get the sense life has caged you into buttoned-down competence. That makes you an excellent colleague, and I’m guessing, an outstanding daughter, but it also leaves you vulnerable to the kind of attack Jackson Smithers launched.” Cas could have said to the kind of attack your sisters launched, but he didn’t want to hurt her, and he saw the beginnings of hurt in her eyes. “I’m all for encouraging your rebellious streak.”

“What aboutyourrebellious streak?”

“I’ve been indulging it for years.”