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M y sole consolation was that, just like Jasper, Kevin didn’t have the first clue about my feelings.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t much of a consolation. Kevin might not have had a clue, but Adam Blake did.

Of all my regulars, Adam was the last person I wanted noticing things about me. I didn’t care how many people he managed to fool with his beautiful exterior, the man was an absolute gremlin.

What had given me away? Had I looked at Kevin for too long? Had I…?

I had .

I’d smiled at him.

That was it. That was my tell.

I was well-known in Chipping Fairford for my general lack of smiles, but I’d recklessly gone ahead and smiled at Kevin.

I could even pinpoint the exact day Adam had caught me at it.

Kevin had bounced in for his usual morning coffee, and proceeded to take his usual ridiculous amount of time to thoroughly inspect the pastry case. He gave it his full attention, every single day, even though the selection only changed on a seasonal basis.

After he completed his inspection, Kevin turned to me and said, “I’ll have two apple Danishes and a chocolate muffin, please, Charlie.”

I don’t remember what I said back. Probably nothing. I’m not a man for chitchat.

I do remember passing him the bag, because his fingers brushed mine and because I was fascinated with Kevin’s hands. They were big, long-fingered, and artistic. They were also always a little beaten-up—a scrape here, a bruise there.

“Have a good one,” he said cheerfully, and bounced out the door.

I smiled after him, looked up into Adam’s hazel eyes, and saw that he knew .

He didn’t say anything that day. I hoped he’d never say anything at all.

This was Adam, though. So he did.

And, because this was Adam, before he said anything, he let me think I’d got away with it.

A few days later, he sauntered into the coffee shop and ordered himself an Americano, a cappuccino, and a chocolate brownie to have in.

I recognised the order. The Americano was for him. The rest was for his husband, Ray, who liked a cappuccino with a double dusting of my own-blend, high-quality cocoa bean powder on top, and would do anything for a brownie.

I filled the portafilter with freshly ground beans and clipped it into the group head. While the coffee was doing its thing, I poked through the basket of brownies with the serving tongs to find the largest one, and dropped it onto a white china plate.

I steamed the milk and finished the drinks, set the cups on a tray alongside the brownie, and moved to the till. Adam paid with a casual wave of his Apple Watch in the general vicinity of the card reader, picked up the tray, and headed over to an empty table by the window.

He gave me just long enough to relax before he paused and turned back with a gleam in his eye. “Kevin Wallis, huh?”

That was it. He didn’t say anything else.

He tossed that rock into my pond of calm, and he walked off.

I wiped down the counter, ran a load of cups through the dishwasher and banged about a bit to get my irritation out. By the time Ray came in juggling a wet umbrella and his laptop bag, I’d brushed it off.

Adam Blake could think what he liked.

He could throw around implications all day long.

I was confirming nothing. I had confirmed nothing.

He was full of shit, it wasn’t true, and—oh, crap.

Kevin was here.

He came in with his insufferable boss, Craig Henderson. The fact that Kevin had worked with Craig for going on five years now and his power tools had never once slipped and injured the man was testament to how sweet-natured Kevin was.

Craig was an attention ho, plain and simple. Since I liked attention about as much as I liked going to the dentist, I fundamentally didn’t get what his whole existence was about. I didn’t like him and he was more than aware of it, which was why he always sent Kevin up to order.

Kevin wasn’t what you’d call a handsome lad. He had an open, honest face with a strong jawline and high, flat cheekbones. When he was younger, he’d had a round babyface, and he’d been somewhat stockier. He’d changed a lot in the last couple of years. He had some serious heft to him still, but his looks had refined and that heft was now stretched out over a significantly taller frame.

He was over six feet, giving him at least three inches on me, and he was built like a brick shithouse.

His eyes were a soft, gentle dark brown, his hair was golden brown, and he had an endearingly crooked left incisor.

And right now, he was smiling at me, bemused.

I realised with a jolt that I’d been standing there, staring at him in silence. God knows for how long.

“What?” I snapped.

He blinked. “I said, hello.”

“Hi.”

“You all right, then?”

“Yes.”

“Raining like mad out there today.”

His hair was spangled with glittering raindrops and his rosy cheeks were dewy. I fought back the urge to dry him off with a tea towel.

“Yep,” I said. “It is raining.”

He heaved a sigh. “Me and Craig are re-laying Mrs Hughes’ back patio today. Going to get absolutely soaked, I reckon.”

Adam came up to the counter and formed a queue of one behind Kevin. I glanced uneasily at him, and back to Kevin.

“What’s up, Kevin?” Adam said.

Kevin glanced at Adam and smiled. “Hey, Adam.” His brown eyes came back to rest steadily on my face.

And that was how I knew Kevin was one hundred percent straight.

Even people who had known Adam all his life—me being one of them—had some sort of reaction to his beautiful face and to his presence. He loathed it, I knew, but we all had our crosses to bear. Being the most beautiful human being in the room at any given moment must be so hard.

But Kevin? When he looked at Adam, there wasn’t even a quiver of awareness. Nothing beyond his calm, uncomplicated friendliness.

“Usual for you?” I said.

Kevin nodded. “A flat white and a black Americano, please.”

The flat white was for him, the Americano for Craig.

“Any pastries?” I asked.

He was already inspecting the case. He leaned down and rested his hands on his thighs as he studied the offerings.

I waited patiently, until I realised that I was waiting patiently and that was so not me. Shifting my weight, I turned to Adam with a raised brow.

“Glass of water please,” he said.

I gazed at him levelly. He didn’t want a glass of water. He’d never ordered a glass of water. Not once.

He’d come over to mess with me, I knew it.

He returned my gaze. He knew I knew it, and he was enjoying it.

“Help yourself.” I gestured at the small vintage water cooler I had set up on the far end of the counter.

I didn’t charge for tap water. Anyone who wanted a glass of water or a bowl for their dog could have one.

“I’m in a sassy mood today,” Adam said. “Think I’ll treat myself to some bubbles.”

I grabbed him a bottle of sparkling mineral water from the fridge. Because he hadn’t specified otherwise, I selected the most expensive one. No San Pellegrino for Adam, no sir. He could have the one that was bottled in the grounds of the local stately home. The one in the heavy glass bottle that all the tourists paid an extra fifty pence for because it looked great on Instagram.

As I thrust the bottle across the counter towards Adam, Kevin straightened, and I clocked him in the face with it.

We all held still for a surprised moment.

“Ow,” Kevin said in a small voice.

“ Kevin . Oh my god. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay.”

“No, it’s—shit. I got you good. Come here.” I gestured at him impatiently, and when he didn’t seem to know what I meant, I leaned over the counter and took his face between my hands, tugging him closer. “Let me look.”

He obligingly held still and let me look.

And I would. Any minute. Right now, though, I was busy.

Busy gazing into his lovely eyes which were currently about three inches away from mine.

They weren’t a gingerbread brown like Ray’s, or a chocolate brown like Jasper’s. They were a solid, plain dark brown and I didn’t know why I liked them so much. His pupils were large, and he had sweet, short lashes.

He blinked. Right. Yes. I was checking his face for…

His warm, sweet face.

Which I was cupping tenderly, absorbing the feel of his skin against my palms—soft on his cheeks, rougher along his jaw, with the faint grain of stubble under my fingertips.

I rubbed my thumb under the eye socket where I’d managed to punch him with the solid glass bottle. He didn’t flinch, but the skin around his eyes tightened briefly.

“Is he going to live?” Adam said dryly, and snapped me back to reality.

The noise of the coffee shop crashed back into my awareness.

Or it should have, except there was no noise to speak of. You could have heard the proverbial pin drop.

Everyone was poised in rapt silence, watching me cup Kevin Wallis’ face while he stood there docilely and let me do it.

I released him and shoved myself back to my own side of the counter. “Looks like it. You want some ice, Kevin, or…?”

“I’m okay.”

He sounded sincere, but his bottom lip was poking out the tiniest bit.

I flung an extra muffin on his plate, pushed the lot at him, and whisked myself into the kitchen.

Once out of sight, I put my back to the wall, covered my face with both hands, and silently screamed.

No.

I refused.

I refused to be in love with Kevin Wallis.

It was absurd. A colossal waste of time. Nonsensical.

Even Jasper had been a pointless crush, and Jasper was as gay as I was.

Kevin wasn’t even a little bit gay. He was one of those lads.

The kind that bash their merry way through life being solid, sturdy, and extremely heterosexual.

The kind of lad to duck out of secondary education as soon as it was legal, get himself apprenticed to a trade, and already be socking away good money while everyone else was scrambling to get into university.

The kind of lad whose leisure activities were centred around the gym, the pub, and the people he’d known since primary school. Who went out with as many women as he could talk into bed before he eventually settled down, had kids, and became a poster boy for the heteronormative happily ever after.

I was not even remotely like that.

I was an arsehole, I’d never had a relationship, and I had my life how I liked it.

Quiet, ordered, and independent.

I finished work and I went home to my elderly dog, Phil, who I loved more than anyone on this planet. Phil and I had supper together. We went for a slow walk around the block. When we came back from our walk, I hacked away at the endless mountain of admin and paperwork that comes with owning your own small business while Phil lay on my feet and supervised. After that, we either sat on the sofa and watched TV, or went straight to bed.

I didn’t even have a preferred side of the bed. I had it all to myself, and I slept in the middle.

I slept the whole night through because no one was snoring. When I got up in the morning, the kitchen was as tidy as I’d left it when I’d retired the night before.

Yes, I lived like a seventy-year-old widower, and I liked it that way.

The life that lay ahead of Kevin bore little to no resemblance to the life that lay ahead of me.

I didn’t want a life like his.

But, fuck.

I wanted Kevin.