Page 21 of Destined Lovers

“Oh,” is what he responds.

I bite back my laughter because I know he’s trying to hold back his questions. I can see him busting at the seams.

“So, gin and tonic?”

He shakes his head, ridding his thoughts. “Aye, sorry. That’s still my drink, Pip.” His eyes sparkle, and his mouth twists with a smirk.

I pause for a split second and pretend to ignore the thoughts of myself melting down into a puddle of hormones.

That smirk.

Holy feck, I did not think this through. I was so concerned about him asking hard questions that I didn’t realize I would be alone with him.

Alone with Declan after all these years.

Shite.

I haven’t moved, although at some point during my inner freakout I missed him moving closer. I watch in shock as he lets his gaze drift up and over my body to my face, and instantly, I can feel the heat of a blush creeping up my cheeks.

His eyes burn with a desire I have never seen him show me before, and honestly, I’m too embarrassed to handle it. I wrench my eyes away and whirl around to grab the elderflower tonic I love so much.

Trying to open it with the bottle opener is becoming impossible. I think my body is completely shocked and has suddenly forgotten how to work.

Declan’s arm reaches around me, and I draw a sharp breath.

Oh. My. God. Nora, act fecking cool.

“I got it, Pip,” he hums next to my ear, sending shivers down my body. My heart starts beating faster, sure it will pop out of my freaking chest at any second.

If there was any question if Declan and I were still attracted to each other, I think we have the answer. Because, holy hell, my body is so lit up right now that if I make any subtle movement, I might blow up in flames.

Breathe in, breathe out.

“Here you go.” His deep voice rumbles through my body.

I take a breath, turn around, grab the tonic, and start pouring it into the drink without making eye contact. I don’t want to see what he’s thinking, and I certainly don’t want him to see through me.

After a few deep breaths, I finally feel him move away, so I chance a quick look, and he’s checking out our living space, giving me a second to get my bearings back.

I know I’ve also affected him, I heard it in his voice, but I’m not experienced with all this flirting and attraction.At all. Where he clearly can still act cool as a cucumber.

“Did you do all of these?” He points to the paintings on the walls.

“Mmhm,” I mumble, still afraid to talk.

“Nora.” He pauses. “These are incredible.” He walks farther into the room to see the rest and then stops abruptly.

“Is this…” he whispers, and I nod my head.

I almost always paint in real time. I like to see my subject in front of me. But every once in a while, it doesn’t always work like that.

The large watercolor he’s admiring was painted entirely from memory. Never once did I look at a photo for reference because there is not one memory that includes Declan I would ever forget.

I pass him his drink and admire the painting with him. For once, letting the feelings elicit run through me.

It illustrates the scene from behind our granny’s houses—Bluebells intermingled with wild garlic carpet the woods with vibrant blues and whites. We would sit out there for hours when we were kids. I would paint and he would read to me, getting lost in the beauty and magical feels this place brought us every spring and summer.

“It sometimes feels like yesterday,” he whispers, turning his head to look down at me.

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