“Milly, don’t start.”
“We’re just looking out for you,” Hazel threw in. “We want to see you settled. And you’ll never get settled being as choosy as you’re being.”
A new indignation began to heat my blood.
“Didn’t you say you knew someone you thought would be perfect for him, Hazel?” Lottie asked.
Thus began the pestering of Roane on the finding of a romantic partner.
With not just the Poppy incident in mind, but also our conversation a few weeks ago about how shitty he felt when his friends did this, my annoyance built.
Finally, when Hazel, Millie, and Lottie became insistent on setting Roane up with a primary school teacher who lived in nearby Howick, I blurted, “Why are you pushing this right now?”
The three women straightened as if I’d slapped them. “What?”
“You’re supposed to be his friend. Friends don’t harass friends about their love lives.”
“Evie,” Roane murmured.
But I was too incensed. “Would you do that to me? Would you sit in a pub and publicly harass me about being single?”
Milly looked uncharacteristically flustered. “We never meant any harm by it, lass.”
“Look at him, for Christ’s sake.” I gestured. “The man is walking lady porn. If he wanted someone, he could have them.”
Viola giggled first.
Then Milly and Hazel and Lottie.
I winced, turning to Roane, who was groaning into his hands.
“Lady porn.” Milly threw back her head in cackling laughter.
Oh shit.
“Right, we’re going.” Roane pushed his chair back and took hold of my wrist. “Caro, let’s go.”
Caro, who was struggling very hard not to laugh, wished everyone good night as Roane practically hauled me out of the pub.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologized as soon as we stepped outside into the cool summer night. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”
I could hear Caro behind us, making a gargling sound in her throat, struggling with her laughter.
Roane released my wrist to run a hand through his hair. He heaved a sigh, his long strides not slowing any. “You were just being a friend. It’s fine.”
“I think my point was getting through . . . until . . .”
“Lady porn,” Caro gasped on a laugh.
Roane shot her a semi-annoyed, semi-amused look over his shoulder.
I winced. “I made things worse, didn’t I?”
He side-eyed me. “Only time will tell, Evie. Only time will tell.”
We fell into silence as we walked by the harbor, me lost in my self-flagellation.
“So”—Roane broke the silence just as we neared the bookstore—“I could get anyone, could I?”
I rolled my eyes at the pleased amusement in his voice.
Caro strolled at her cousin’s side, smiling mischievously.
Flushing, I huffed, “Oh, you know you’re gorgeous, Robson. You don’t need me to stroke your ego.”
“I beg to differ.” He was suddenly no longer smiling as we drew to a stop in front of the store. “It’s getting to the point only you can.”
The breath whooshed out of my lungs as our gazes locked and his double entendre had the equivalent effect of him sliding his hand between my legs. My mouth grew dry, and I could only stare. He did not just say that in front of his little cousin.
Roane was the one to break the moment. He turned to Caro and kissed her forehead. “You were amazing today. I hope you sleep well. Call me if you need me, but I’ll be in tomorrow to check on you.”
“I’m fine,” she assured him.
“Even so.” He squeezed her shoulder and then looked at me. “Night, Evie.”
I swallowed hard, trying to find my voice through the choking emotions building inside me. “Good night, Roane.”
Caro and I were silent as we made our way upstairs. Exhausted, we said good night, and I was just about to disappear into my room when the sound of my name on Caro’s lips stopped me.
“Yeah?”
She seemed to straighten her shoulders, as if readying for battle. “I . . . I want you to know that I’m very grateful for everything you’ve done for me but . . .” She exhaled heavily and tilted her chin up stubbornly. “I-If you hurt Roane, I’ll come for you.”
It might have been funny, this young, shy woman half my size threatening me, but it wasn’t. There was sincerity in her voice. These two cousins, they were more than that. They were like brother and sister. “I believe you,” I whispered.
“He—” Caro took a tentative step toward me. “He would never hurt you, Evie. You must believe that.”
The thing was that I did believe that. I trusted Roane Robson.
And it scared the shit out of me.
Fourteen
Viola seemed to be on a mission to keep Caro occupied. She’d shown up at the store, insisting on driving Caro to Berwick-upon-Tweed for a shopping day. Berwick-upon-Tweed was about an hour north of Alnster, and only a few miles south of the Scottish border.
As I had a shop to run and it was now open Tuesday to Saturday, I couldn’t tag along, and Caro, remembering our discussion about Newcastle, didn’t want to shop without me. Which was sweet. However, I remembered how little she’d brought in the way of clothes and encouraged her to go.