Page 25 of Love Walked In

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Leo

Mari’s eyes, soft and trusting in the dark of the Tube carriage.

I opened my own eyes and shook my head hard.

I was crouched on the ground in front of Ross & Co.

’s doors. After last night’s sleet, Saturday had dawned below freezing, the sky a high, pale blue, the kind of day that was perfect for a long tromp across the Heath, feeling ice crunch under my boots.

Not that I had a chance of that kind of luxury today.

I had a festival to organize, but all my brain wanted to do was replay those three minutes of the trip home last night.

Mari’s body, warm and curved and so close to mine.

The closeness of her, her tropical scent, had left me vibrating, needy and craving, and even though I’d used my hand and some soap to take the edge off when I’d finally gotten home and defrosted in a hot shower, I’d still been wide awake before my alarm.

Graham was meant to open the shop, but I was sure he wouldn’t complain if I got the boiler going before he arrived.

The gate rose with a complaining screech, the metal dull cold even through my glove as I shoved it open.

I walked into the shop, not bothering to take off my coat and hat.

Bluish winter light streamed dustily through the windows.

Mari must not have been out of the garret yet.

No, I couldn’t think of her still snug in her bed—it would be far too tempting to go up the stairs and knock on her door, ask if I could climb into all that warmth and softness, hold her close like I had the night before.

I set the heating to turn the shop from freezing to just-barely-warm-enough.

In the break room I put the kettle on to boil, put a tablespoon of instant coffee and a packet of hot cocoa mix into a chipped blue mug.

A little powder spilled next to it, and I absent-mindedly dabbed it with my fingertip.

But when I popped my finger in my mouth…

Mari’s mouth, full and pink and just the tiniest bit open.

I groaned. Oh God, I had wanted to kiss her more than I’d ever wanted chocolate. I’d have given up sugar in an instant if it meant I could touch her lips with mine.

Touch? More like devour. And not just her mouth, either.

“Gorgeous out there,” Graham said behind me. “Cold as brass monkeys, but gorgeous.”

My fantasy evaporated, and I coughed, mortified. “Yeah. Lovely.”

“Kettle’s on too, fantastic.” He shuffled up next to me. “Any reason you’re in so early? I know this place is your life, but surely you don’t want to be here every hour of the day?”

His smile said he was waiting for a joke. “No,” I said stiffly, consumed with thoughts of Mari.

He blinked. “All right, mate. I’ll check on the computers, shall I?” I didn’t know how he was relaxed even in the face of my coldness. God, what would Mari want with me? He was so cheerful and at ease with himself. I was awkward and withdrawn, a bunch of nettles in human form.

“Hi, boys,” my brain’s singular obsession said warmly from the doorway. “Any hot chocolate for me? It’s frosty today.”

“Sure,” Graham said. “Leo could make you one of his mochas, if you wanted. They’re somehow rubbish and delicious at the same time.”

I turned around as Graham left and Mari nodded to him with a smile. There was no sign that she’d been affected by me, by us being wrapped in each other, practically inhaling each other’s breath. I looked for a flush on her cheek, a tremble in her hands.

“A rubbish mocha sounds good right now,” she said.

Without saying anything, I boiled more water, focused intently on measuring out coffee and cocoa, added a big splash of oat milk.

When I handed her the hot mug, I could have sworn our fingertips touched, but that must have been wishful thinking on my part.

“We have a meeting later,” I said abruptly.

“About the ticket sales for the festival.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Of course.”

Wait. She hadn’t yet made any eye contact with me. “Mari?” I asked tentatively.

“Yeah?” I waited, and finally she looked into my eyes. Her cheeks blushed a shade of cherry-blossom pink I wanted to capture with watercolors, a wash of spring on snowy paper. I wanted to see that blush on the rest of her skin too, wanted to follow its path with my hands and my mouth.

“Leo? Did you want to say something?”

Oh, I was an unprofessional horny bugger, standing here staring at her. “I forgot. Carry on.”

“OK, then,” she sounded out slowly. “I guess I’ll see you at two.” She turned and ambled out. “Blondie,” I heard her call, “I watched some of that 1980s crime show you told me to. That was nuts. I can’t believe they stole all that gold by accident.”

The masochist inside me stuck my head out the door to see Mari and Graham grinning at each other, and my stomach fell into my shoes.

I was pining for her like a desperate Romantic poet without the good lines, but she simply didn’t feel the same way about me.

The sooner I got that through my head, the better.