The kettle clicked off, steam curling against the window. She poured the tea into mismatched mugs and slid one across the counter. Her best friend accepted it with a grin, their shoulders brushing as she leaned on the counter like she belonged there - which, after twenty years of friendship, she did. Her phone buzzed against the counter. Unknown number. I’ll be around later to check the guttering. She frowned, blinking at...

The following morning he showed up right on time, tool belt slung around his hips and that same easy confidence in his stride. She met him at the door, trying to stay casual, but warmth gathered in her throat under his gaze. “Morning, Laura.” “Morning,” she managed, stepping aside to let him in. The use of her first name threw her off a little. His eyes lingered on her face, on the faint flush she couldn’t quite will away...