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S unday opening hours were eight to four, and even though I didn’t have my weekday commuters to cater for, it was one of the busiest days of the week.

Chipping Fairford was an adorable little Cotswolds town full of honey-coloured stone houses that looked fantastic on Instagram, it was surrounded by a countryside full of picturesque and well-marked walking routes, and it was far enough from London to make it seem like a different world while still being under two hours by car or one hour by train.

This meant that The Chipped Cup had a heavy influx of weekend tourists, and I had a truly staggering number of conversations with annoyed customers who wanted to know if I was sure I didn’t do brunch? Not even Eggs Benedict? They’d even take a smoked salmon on wholewheat toast if that was all I offered.

But surely I did brunch. Didn’t I?

I offered exactly what was written up on the chalkboard behind my head, and that was it.

I was well aware that I could make a killing at the weekends if I added brunch to the menu, but it wasn’t as easy as the people who tried to argue me into it seemed to think. It required a complete revamp of my business model and kitchen. There were health and safety regulations to comply with, cooking and serving hot meals on the premises was wildly different from plating up the fresh pastries Nadia from the bakery across town delivered each morning, and by the end of the average Sunday, I almost always had a tension headache from gritting my teeth in an effort to stay polite.

The morning after I slept with Kevin, however, I got started on my tension headache bright and early.

By nine o’clock, I gave in and popped a couple of aspirin. This thrilled Pippa, who was convinced that I was nursing a hangover, which to her mind which constituted evidence of a life outside work.

It kind of felt like one, except no hangover I’d ever had before had included a sore arsehole and hip flexors that kept threatening to give out and drop me to the floor at any moment.

The source of the tension headache was, of course, the same source of the complaining hip flexors.

Kevin.

I’d left him in bed that morning, and it had been one of the hardest things I’d had to do in my life.

Based on his boundless energy during the day and his rampant sex drive, I’d expected him to be one of those obnoxious morning people who had a complicated routine involving things like pushups, protein shakes, and a dozen raw eggs, all before dawn.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

I’d woken at the ungodly hour of five o’clock—as my body clock was trained to do, Sunday or not—and lay there blearily staring at the ceiling, wondering why I felt like a wrung-out dishcloth and why I was so incredibly aware of my arse.

The weight of Kevin’s arm resting over my waist and his thigh slung over mine gave me a visceral, wonderful reminder. Possibly for the first time ever before I’d had a coffee, I smiled.

It was light enough in the pre-dawn for me to see that his face was flushed with sleep, his cheeks pink and mouth all rosy and soft. I wanted to kiss him quite desperately. If our positions had been reversed, I was confident that Kevin would have had no problem whatsoever waking me up with a tongue in my mouth, but I was still a bit shaky on sexual protocol. I decided to err on the side of caution, and kept my lips to myself.

His dark-blond hair stuck up all over the place and he must have sensed me watching him because his eyes very slowly blinked open. He was adorable. It took at least three blinks before he managed to focus on me. One corner of his mouth hitched up in a sleepy smile and the arm around my waist flexed, drawing me closer.

“Morning,” I whispered.

“Muh.” His eyes closed again.

I reached out and touched his cheek because I couldn’t help it. It was warm and delightful and his stubble rasped against my palm, making me shiver. He kept his eyes closed but puckered up. I obliged and dropped a quick kiss on his mouth.

He drifted back into sleep. I could have done the same. I didn’t technically have to get up until six. I’d long since tweaked my routine to maximise my time in bed, and I had it down to a fine art.

I could roll out of bed, take a five-minute shower, brush my teeth and change in another five minutes, scoot a grumbling Phil outside for his morning bits and pieces, and be leaving the house, ready for a full day of work, within half an hour of getting out of bed.

There was no way I was falling back asleep today, though.

Kevin’s warm, solid presence in my bed was too novel and wonderful. I basked in it, drawing the moment out as long as I could before I was wide awake.

Then all the basking just felt weird.

Just because everything felt different physically (my arse) and emotionally (my heart) it didn’t mean I had the time to moon about and sigh over it.

I slipped out, leaving him to sleep, and got on with my day.

I drank my first coffee on the patio outside in the dim light, watching Phil do his rounds. He checked the fence and snuffled around on the lawn with his nose to the grass as he followed the invisible trails left by passing night visitors. I took my second coffee into the bathroom with me and set it on the windowsill while I showered, trying not to get distracted with memories of Kevin in here with me the night before.

It was hard not to.

I kept getting flashes of Kevin’s body sliding against me, his voice low and his chest rumbling against my back, his long soapy fingers?—

I briskly turned the dial to cold, which put paid to any lingering sexy thoughts. I knocked back the rest of my coffee, skipped the shave, and ran upstairs in my towel to brush my teeth and change into clean clothes.

I grabbed underwear, trousers and a Chipped Cup t-shirt from the dresser and changed quietly, watching Kevin as I did. He’d rolled onto his back and had one arm tossed over his head and the covers down to his waist even though it was cool.

Dressed in my usual work uniform, I stood and stared at him for a moment.

I’d heard that people in their sleep looked unguarded. Younger. Vulnerable.

Not Kevin.

Despite the sweetly flushed cheeks and boneless relaxation, he didn’t look vulnerable at all. He looked contained. Powerful. He looked like the focused, physical Kevin I’d seen in the gym and less like the placid, cheerful boy that everyone else saw.

Was this, I wondered, the real Kevin?

And then I wondered, what was I supposed to do now? Roll him out of bed, make him a latte and send him on his way? I clenched at the thought of it, and not in an exciting way.

No. I didn’t want to turf him out. I should want to. I should be desperate to claw back a sense of my own personal space.

I didn’t want him to leave.

He hummed and arched his back before turning his head on the pillow and opening his eyes. He was more awake this time, but not by much.

I perched on the side of the mattress. “I’ve got to go to work.”

He hummed again.

“Stay,” I said, impressed with how nonchalant I sounded.

The way he smiled at me suggested I hadn’t quite pulled off nonchalant after all.

“Will do,” he said.

“I’ll leave you a key to lock up. I’ll be back after lunch to let Phil out, but you might want to go before then.”

“I’ve got a key, thanks,” he said. “In fact, I’m gonna need to give you one.”

“What?”

“I changed your door, remember? That included the lock.”

Oh my god, was that only yesterday? It seemed like a week ago.

“I need to get another key cut for Suzanne,” I said.

He stared at me. “Miss Lawson? Why does the newsagent lady have a key to your house?” he said, absolutely baffled.

“She looks after Phil for me if I know I’m going to be at the shop all day and can’t make it back to let him out. She takes him most days anyway. He usually hangs out in her office at the newsagent’s. Remember, she dropped him off with you that once?”

This seemed beyond Kevin’s morning processing abilities. His brows drew together and he blinked.

I cupped his cheek. “Where’s my key?”

“On my keyring,” he said.

“Mm-hmm. And your keyring?”

He rubbed both hands over his face and pushed up to his elbows. “Uh. Pocket.”

I gently pushed him back down, thrilled at how easily he went. “I’ll get it.”

“Mhm.”

I found the keyring in his sweatpants pocket and stood there flipping keys around. He had a lot. This thing was a weapon.

“Bring it over here and sit on me,” he said gruffly.

I was halfway across the room before his words percolated.

Kevin flung out an arm and made a grabby hand.

I got close enough to pass him the keyring, and stopped there.

“Sit on me,” he said again.

“I’ve got to go to work.”

“On my lap,” he coaxed. “Not my dick.”

“Okay.” Feeling awkward, I put a knee to the mattress, and yelped when he lunged up and grabbed me.

“Shit,” he said. “My nose. Stop flailing.”

“Sorry.”

He shuffled me about until I was perched on his lap, then turned his attention to his keyring. He squinted at it.

“Do you want me to turn the light on?”

“Ugh, no. I’ll wake all the way up if there’s light, and I’m nice and sleepy.”

I reached out and stroked his hair.

He made a happy noise and pushed into my touch even as he flipped through the keys. He worked one off, tongue poking out the corner of his mouth a little. “Here you go,” he said. “D’you want me to get you a copy made for Miss Lawson?”

“Oh. That would be so helpful. Only if you’re already going to…wherever they cut keys these days?”

“They do it at Sainsbury’s,” he said, “but, eh.” He pulled a face. “I’ll take it to B&Q. How many copies do you want? You’ve got one there and I’ve got one here.” He sent me a shifty look.

It was, I knew, way too early to be giving him a key. Also, if I did, then there was a very real chance that one day, I’d come home from work and discover that he’d installed an entirely new bathroom, or relaid my patio.

I pushed my fingers through his hair and said, “Well, once you’ve got Suzanne’s key cut and give me that one back—” I laughed when he pouted, “—probably it’d be good to have another spare for when I inevitably lose one, and maybe...”

“I’ll get two more cut, how’s that?” he said.

“That’d be great. Thanks, Kevin.”

“Mhm.” He put his arms behind his head and gazed up at me. “Now, why don’t you come all the way up here and sit on my fa?—”

“I’ve got to go,” I said quickly.

“You sure? I like it when?—”

“Nope. I’m sure. I’ve got to go.”

He sighed as if hard done-by. “Can I have a kiss then?”

“Yes.” I bent down and touched my lips to his. I was expecting him to try for more, but he didn’t. He kept it gentle, and that made it even harder to leave him there, but I managed.

Just.

He grunted when I climbed off him and let me go without any more complaints.

“Right,” I said. “I’m heading out. Phil’s already had his breakfast. Do not let him convince you otherwise. He can have a treat from the treat cupboard, but just the one. If he even notices you’re around. He might not. He’s a dozy beast.”

“Can I take him for a walk?”

“He’d love that. He’s not fast, though.”

Kevin snorted. “I didn’t think he would be.”

“He’s great on the lead. I’m telling you right now that he will shit at least once, even if he does it in the garden before you go, so make sure you take some bags with you—there’s a box of them by the lead in the treat cupboard—and also, he’s got joint issues and can’t walk too far. Don’t take him on a hike or anything.”

Kevin rolled onto his side, bunched up his pillow, and smiled up at me. “I’ll take care of him,” he said on a yawn. “Go away. I’ll drop by the coffee shop later and say hi.”

“Okay.” I paused. “Kevin?”

“Mm?” His eyes were closed.

“Don’t redo my bathroom or anything while I’m out.”

“Not today,” he promised, and pulled the pillow over his head.

And now here I was, hours later, still thinking about him.

Who was I fooling?

I’d been thinking about Kevin non-stop since he first kissed me on my doorstep. I’d thought about him a lot before then, of course, but not like this.

I felt like an obsessed teenager. No shade to teenagers—they’re young, and new, and learning about life. They’re supposed to get obsessed. I was old enough and disappointed enough in life that I should be able to control myself.

But no.

The place was bustling as usual when Kevin sauntered in later that morning. I did a double take when I saw that he had Phil with him.

Phil looked as if he couldn’t believe his luck. A big room filled with new friends he hadn’t met yet!

He made a beeline for the nearest table but before he could get far, Kevin’s hand firmed on the lead, and Phil had to make do with being cooed at from a distance by a group of young women who couldn’t seem to decide who was more worth the kissy faces, Kevin or Phil.

Hopefully Phil, because Kevin didn’t even glance their way as he walked Phil up to the counter. His eyes came straight to me the moment he set foot in the shop, and didn’t waver.

“How long did it take you to get his harness on?” I asked by way of greeting, trying not to feel flustered at the attention.

I’d bought Phil a very fancy, cool-dog harness when I first acquired him, but he wasn’t a fan. He preferred the pink collar and matching lead he came with.

On the few occasions that I’d tried to wrangle him into the expensive piece of equipment, he’d lain down and refused to help, and once I’d got him into it, he’d minced along, huffing and puffing as if I’d laced him into a corset. He was already having a sad time of it back then, what with missing Deirdre. Also, I was a pushover. I gave in.

We’d stuck with his preferred collar-and-lead combo.

Kevin looked down at Phil. Phil looked up at Kevin. “Uh,” Kevin said. “Ten seconds? Why?”

“He hates it.”

“Really? He pretty much took it off me and buckled himself in the moment I got it out of his cupboard,” Kevin said.

I narrowed my eyes at Phil. “You’re trying to match Kevin, aren’t you?” I accused my dog. “You want a rugged manly utility harness with buckles and webbing to keep up with the rugged manly man.”

Kevin leaned on the counter. “Is that me? Am I the rugged manly man?” He grinned. “We can butch it up even more if you like. I can buy him some little pouches to clip on the sides here, and a little backpack, and he can come to work with me. Carry my tools about.” He dropped a hand down to ruffle the fluff on top of Phil’s giant head. “Shall we do that, Phil?” Phil groaned. “Okay, that was a yes. Phil’s got a job now, he’s my assistant.”

I laughed, then became horribly aware that we were being watched by every regular in the place, and a few of the tourists besides.

I scowled.

Everyone abruptly went back to their coffee or newspaper.

Pippa didn’t.

She was standing at my elbow, staring at me. Her eyes were big and shiny. Her lip quivered.

“What?” I said, a little rougher than I’d intended to. “Sorry, that was rude. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” She laid a hand on my arm and rubbed it gently. “I’m fine. It’s nice to hear you laugh.”

“I laugh,” I muttered. “I laugh all the time.”

She nodded quickly. “Yes, of course.” Turning to the counter, she went up on her toes to lean over and say to Phil, “Well, there’s my favourite boy. Hello, Phil. Don’t you look smart today! Yes, you do.”

Phil gave another of his throbbing, inappropriate groans. A woman with a toddler in a pushchair twisted around and glared at Kevin, who shook his head and pointed at Phil.

The dishwasher in the back beeped and Pippa flitted off to go and empty it.

“So,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

“Why yes, Charlie, you can. Thanks for asking.”

“What would you like?”

“What I’d like is a nice pair of buns spread out for me on?—”

Before he could launch into a replay of the worst dirty talk known to man, the doorbell jangled and Jasper walked in with Adam and Ray.

“Phil!” Jasper called from across the room, beaming.

Phil huffed loudly—his version of a bark—and looked up at Kevin, who had tightened his hold on the lead.

“Stay,” Kevin said firmly.

Phil was visibly torn, but he did as he was told and waited until Jasper was within licking distance before he embarked upon his usual rapturous greeting.

Jasper, as always, went to his knees. Phil, as always, flung himself into Jasper’s arms. I glanced at Kevin, ready to share a smile, and was startled to see that Kevin wasn’t quite as charmed by their nonsense as I was.

In fact, other than Kevin’s stern mouth, his face was expressionless.

Adam’s face, sadly, was not expressionless.

He looked at Jasper and Phil, at Kevin, then at me. He ran his beautiful golden-hazel eyes with their stupid long lashes down my body and lazily back up to my face, and he smiled. His brows lifted.

He opened his mouth to say something, and was thankfully stopped by the only force on the planet who could derail the little shit.

Ray muscled past him and Jasper, leaned across the counter, and said urgently, “Charlie, Dougal’s on his way in for his puppuccino.”

That put an abrupt end to the Jasper-Phil lovefest.

“What?” Jasper said, whipping his head around to look at the door. “Oh no.”

Both Jasper and Ray had been there the day Dougal kicked Phil’s arse.

No one wanted a repeat.

Jasper exploded into action, leaping gracefully to his feet, snatching the lead from Kevin, and hauling Phil?—

Nowhere.

Phil went nowhere. Kevin didn’t let go.

The doorbell jangled.

Phil looked over with interest. With his poor vision he couldn’t see Dougal, because he couldn’t see much of anything, but he must have scented his small conqueror’s approach in the air. He hunched his shoulders and dropped his head. The tip of his tail pattered desperately on the floor.

“Kevin, let go. Let me have him,” Jasper said, tugging the lead.

“No.”

“Kevin,” I hissed. “Take Phil into the kitchen or Dougal’s going to lose his shit.”

Kevin looked at me and squinted. “Little Dougal Hughes?”

“Yes. Go. Please!”

“Okay, okay.” Kevin hustled Phil around the end of the counter and into the kitchen. I hurried after him, surprising Pippa.

“Pippa, could you handle any customers, please?” I asked.

She was frowning at Phil. “He’s not supposed to be in the kitchen, is he?” she said.

“No, not really. It’s fine. We’re passing through. Can you…?”

“Don’t worry, Charlie,” Jasper called. “I’ve got this! My time to shine!”

The bean grinder switched on.

Pippa lunged around me and ran out to the front.

Kevin was staring at me in befuddlement even as he soothingly cupped the side of Phil’s head. Phil was trying to meld with his thigh. “Does he not get on with Dougal?”

“Uh, no. Dougal kicked his arse.”

“Dougal Hughes from the bookshop? Mrs Hughes’ old terrier?”

“That’s him.”

“He’s so cute. And old. Like…he’s so old .”

“He takes his territory very seriously. I brought Phil with me to work once when I first had him. Once was enough.”

Kevin narrowed his eyes. “This is Phil’s territory.”

“Not to Dougal. He’s thirteen or fourteen now, and he’s been coming here since he was a puppy. He and Mrs Hughes are regulars.”

Kevin wasn’t happy. “It’s still Phil’s territory, though.”

“Phil doesn’t mind.”

“Phil should mind. It’s his .” Kevin shifted from one foot to the other.

“I don’t think he’s interested in going out there to assert his dominance.”

Kevin stepped into me, his body a long line of heat. Phil also stepped into me, because he was glued to Kevin. “I would.”

“Uh—”

“If someone started trying to claim any part of my territory? I’d assert my dominance.”

“Okaaaay.”

“Just so you know.”

“Okay. I know.”

I wasn’t an idiot. He was still holding the side of Phil’s head, rubbing his ear gently.

He was as territorial about Phil as Dougal was about the coffee shop.

He’d been weird when Craig showed up in my drive yesterday, and I didn’t think he was too keen about the Jasper-Phil lovefest earlier, either.

“Good,” he said. “And sorry.”

“For?”

“I didn’t mean to cause a fuss bringing Phil in. It was supposed to be a nice surprise.”

“It was a nice surprise. My two favourite guys showed up. How is that not nice?”

My cheeks heated at my thoughtless words. Two favourite guys .

“Yeah?” Kevin settled a hand on my waist and shifted closer.

“Much as I hate to interrupt this enchanting moment,” Adam said from the doorway, “Jasper’s done something to the bean grinder, and a group of tourists just came in.”

“Right!” I said, leaping back. “I’m coming!”

Phil snorted with surprise at my sudden movement.

Kevin caught me with a hand around the back of my neck before I got out of reach, tugged me close, and pressed a hard kiss to my mouth.

“Oh,” I said softly when he pulled back, a little startled.

“I’m taking Phil to the park before I go to the gym. Do you want me to take him home after, or drop him at the newsagent’s?”

“Home, please.”

“All right.” He cut his eyes across the room to where Adam was leaning in the doorway, ankles crossed and hands in his pockets as he regarded us, his head tipped to one side. He looked back at me. “Bye, boyfriend . See you tonight.” He kissed me again.

I watched him and Phil leave out the back door, then girded my loins and turned to face Adam.

He smiled at me, wide and open in a way he almost never did. “Kevin Wallis, huh?” he said.

I opened my mouth to snap something sarcastic, and then…didn’t. “Yeah,” I said, and mentally rolled my eyes at how shy I sounded.

Out in the main shop, the grinder came on again and made a noise like it was choking on a rock.

I shoved Adam out of the doorway ahead of me, and rushed out to yell at Jasper.