Page 50 of Unforgiven in Cheshire Bay

“Not quite what I was thinking.” A lazy smile appeared. “But if that works, sure?”

“You want me to sneak you in?”

He roiled, putting some distance between us. “I hate that word.”

I mentally face-palmed. Of course, he did. One of the reasons he left his wife. Or she left him.

“I can knock gently on the back door after nine-thirty. She’s asleep by then, right?”

“Most of the time.”

The sweetest expression, the kind that was borderline puggy-doggish with a cute little pout built on his perfect face. “So? It’s not like she’d hear us.”

And as much as I didn’t like that phrase, there was truth to it. “I still can’t. I’m not sure yet how to tell Vera about us.”

I twisted away as the words hung between us because I wasn’t sure what we were. Boyfriend-girlfriend? Friend with benefits? I really didn’t know. This was all new territory to me.

Fran, Vera, and I came back home from brunch, and as I pulled into the driveway, I spotted a big bouquet of flowers sitting on the front porch.

Vera signedwho from?and let out a little squeal.

Fran sighed. “Well, isn’t he just the cutest?”

I shrugged and answered Vera. “I don’t know.”

“D-A-V-I-D.” Fran’s fingers spelled out his name for Vera’s benefit.

“Let’s see.” I parked the car, but Vera beat me to the flowers, handing me the card.

Fran waltzed over and read the card over my shoulder.

To Erin,

Thanks for your patience and for the wonderful date. A surprise is coming your way, watch for it.

D.

Wow. The guy was a total dream.

“Well, we didn’t get all the details on the date.” Fran wiggled her brows and grabbed the door while I ushered in the bouquet. “But it looks like it was a huge success.”

The amazing scent from the colourful flowers warmed my insides, not quite the way David had last night, several times over, but still.

I set them on the table, next to the red rose from last night.

Vera giggled and signedl o v e.

“No, it’s not love. It’s too early for that, so don’t be getting any ideas in your head.” I turned to Francesca. “And stop putting those ideas there.”

“Who me?” She had the audacity to look surprised, but I knew her better than she thought. Still, her smile never faded, and neither did mine.

“I really should get out in the workshop and keep at his mural.”

My sister was practically dancing around the kitchen, stopping every few seconds to smell the flowers.

“Would you stop?” I asked.

“But it’s sooo sweet.” Her perma-grin was larger than life.

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