Sweetly Isolated (The Swallow Barn Cottage Series, Book 1)

Do You, Tina?

She was finishing the second muesli muffin - she found the container he'd put in the fridge the day before - and the second cup of coffee when he showed up, disheveled and barefoot. And delicious!

"I apologise," he said and came up to her. He looked down into her mug. "Is there any coffee left?"

"Of course," she said. "I left you two muffins too."

"I can make us eggs," he said, still eyeing her mug - and she giggled and handed it to him.

He took a big sip and squinted in pleasure.

"It's alright," she said and got up. "I need to go, work."

"Oh, and I thought we'd have breakfast together," he murmured and started leaning to her. "After all, we were in the middle of something when we were interrupted, and maybe after we could–"

Tina pressed her index finger to his lips - puckered and approaching.

"I need to go write," she said. "You've worked. Just there, in the bed, in the middle of something," she couldn't help but to quip sardonically. "Now it's my turn."

He groaned and rolled his eyes. Tina snorted. He straightened up and took another sip of her coffee.

"You know, I'm only letting you go because I respect the Craft," he grumbled. "You're lucky I have the appreciation for the writers' idiosyncrasies."

"Oi, you're letting me go because you need my consent. Because you're a decent bloke," Tina said and poked his chest with her finger.

He chuckled. "Have I been reevaluated? Because I distinctly remember the words 'despicable,' 'alpha male,' and 'chauvinistic macho' to be used towards me."

Bugger, bugger, bugger!

"I've never called you so!" she squeaked.

"Not when you're awake," he said with another laugh, and then whispered in her ear, "Remember, Clemmie, you talk in your sleep."

Blimey, what else has she divulged?

She needed to get better and go skating. Physical exhaustion in theory could ensure she slept deeper. She shouldn't mention it to him, though - he'd probably offer other ways to... exhaust her.

"This makes me uncomfortable," she muttered, and he dropped the Casanova act and gave her a comforting smile.

"You called me names only during the first night," he said. "And that was before you started cuddling and calling me Mr. Tickles. Since then, as much as I heard, you mostly talk about some telly shows and books, and it's mostly nonsense. You mention Richards' characters. And Cox's. But it's just muttering. Apparently you miss Jones, and Winter irritates you," he added, and kissed her cheek. "Go, work. I'll do the same, and I'll call you for lunch."

Tina returned his smile and walked to the door. At the last moment he caught her hand, and his long fingers wrapped loosely around her wrist.

"Should we have lunch in bed, maybe?" he asked innocently. "Last night's dinner was a promising beginning."

Ooph, what a bastard! And so bloody tempting!

Tine feigned pensiveness and tapped her index finger to her chin.

"What are my chances to get out of that bed after lunch?" she asked, and he pulled her gently to him.

She let him - and stopped, her nose an inch from his chest.

"If you consent?" he murmured and tilted his head. His blue eyes were burning. "None."

God, that's so hot!