Page 71 of Joker in the Pack

“You want me to go slower on the way back?”

It wasn’t just being on the bike that scared me; it was being on the bike with Nye. That engine wasn’t the only thing that exuded power. And the slower he went, the longer I’d have to cling on to him.

“I’ll get used to it.”

He gave me another grin, and his teeth looked even whiter against a day’s worth of dark stubble. “That’s my girl.”

His girl. I wished.

No! I did not just think that.Nye was merely an added complication in my life, and I still hadn’t phoned Sophie to enquire about his credentials.

And of course, he had to confuse me further. His hand brushed against mine as we walked up the path to Carol’s cottage, and prickling heat burned up my arm at each touch. My legs had gone wobbly by the time we reached the front door, and the twitching curtains at the window beside it told me our arrival hadn’t gone unnoticed.

The door opened the second Nye knocked, and a tiny lady with tightly curled white hair looked up at us. She sported one of those painfully perky smiles that would stay in place through anything short of a nuclear explosion.

“You must be Nye. Luke said on the phone you’d be coming.” She gripped Nye’s proffered hand with both of hers. “My, aren’t you the handsome one?”

“Nye Holmes. You’re Carol?”

“That’s right. Are you any relation to Sherlock?”

“I’m afraid not.”

Disappointment flashed across her face, but only for a second. “Never mind. I’m sure Sherlock Holmes didn’t have such big muscles.” She reached up and squeezed Nye’s bicep, and he turned a snort of laughter into a sneeze. “Bless you, dear.”

“I’m pretty sure he was fictional.”

“Maybe so, but he also had Dr. Watson.” She gave me a disapproving look. “You must be Olivia.”

“Yes, Olivia Porter.” I held a hand out, but she barely touched my fingertips.

She turned back to Nye. “You’d better come in, dear. I’ve just made fresh pastries. Or would you prefer a cooked breakfast?”

What did one call a geriatric cougar? Was there a special term for it? She herded Nye into the dining room without taking her eyes off his backside once.

“I’m not all that hungry, thanks.”

“Nonsense. A man like you needs to eat. Here, take a seat.”

She bustled off, presumably to the kitchen, while I sat down opposite a bemused-looking Nye at a table for two.

“Well, at least she likes one of us.”

He rolled his eyes. “Save me.”

“Don’t be so melodramatic.”

“It wasn’t your butt she pinched.”

A bubble of laughter escaped just as Carol came back into the room, and she glared at me as she put a jug of orange juice down on the table.

“There you go, dear. Freshly squeezed.”

I couldn’t stop giggling as she hurried off again. “It’s not the only thing.”

“Is it too early for Scotch? I think I’m gonna need it.”

It didn’t take long for Carol to return with two fried breakfasts. My portion was half the size of Nye’s and had all the burned bits.

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