Page 67 of Play On

Ooh!

We stay in our fixed positions, with one of his hands still on my back, and my palms resting against his chest.

I clear my throat. “Well, I’m glad to hear that,” I say, smiling mischievously at him. “Would you like to come in? I know my parents would love to see you again.”

“Of course.”

“Did you get the grand tour when you came last time?” I ask as we move towards the carved wooden door.

“Not a complete tour.”

“I can’t believe Nicholas didn’t show you all seventy-five rooms,” I tease. “What a horrible host.”

“No, he’s the perfect host. Nicholas was all about the good time.”

“Well, you should still experience the house. But I will save that for tomorrow, it will take a while.”

“You must be convinced I’m not going to fail the pick and mix test,” Noah says, reaching for my hand and slowly threading his fingers through mine, “if you are making plans to give me the grand tour.”

I practically grow giddy from the fact that he wants to hold my hand. “I have complete confidence in your ability to pass my test,” I tease.

“Good. Because I don’t intend to fail,” he says softly.

I somehow manage to lead him through the house, pointing out the rooms we pass by on the way to the private family part of the home, and when we reach the den, I find my parents hanging out. Dad is watching TV and Mum is reading something on her phone.

“Hello,” I call out cheerfully. “Noah is here.”

Both my parents smile and stand up. Noah is reintroduced to them. He shakes their hands, and as soon as he is finished, his right hand reclaims mine in his.

I see Mum’s eyes dart towards our linked fingers, and no doubt she’s running through her checklist of concerns with Noah being a footballer.

But I’m learning who this man is,I think with determination.And I know without a doubt, Noah is a man I can trust.

“So what are you two doing tonight?” Dad asks.

“We’re going to have dinner and then go to the cinema,” I say.

“Oh, what are you seeing?” Mum asks.

Noah rattles off the name of the new spy thriller that has just come out.

Dad chuckles. “Noah, I hope you don’t have your heart set on it. You don’t know how many times she changed her mind by the time we got to the cinema. She’ll see a poster and suddenly insist we see something else. That’s our girl. Always the butterfly.”

Embarrassment engulfs me. I know Dad isn’t trying to hurt me, but he’s reinforcing the image I never want Noah to associate with me.

I can feel Noah’s gaze on my profile, and I don’t dare meet it. What is he thinking? That I can’t even commit to a movie without changing my mind?

And after what I pulled last week …

A sinking feeling threatens to engulf me. My hand grows clammy, I can feel it, and I remove it from Noah’s, hopefully before he notices.

“Um, we should get going,” I say, forcing a smile on my face. “I’ll be back later.”

“Have fun,” Mum says cheerfully.

“It was good to see you again, Noah,” Dad says. “Enjoy your time in Dorset.”

“There’s no doubt I will, sir,” he says politely.

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