Right Number, Wrong Girl

It was abundantly clear who ran the roost around here.

Hugo sighed the second she’d disappeared. “Are you ready?”

“You don’t have to take me,” I said, picking up the rucksack and slinging it over my shoulders. “It’s really not far by bike.”

“I don’t want to take you, but the idea of Grandma finding out I didn’t is something I like a whole lot less, so let’s go.”

“I have Nora’s bike with me. I can’t just leave it here.”

“I’ll throw it in the back. Come on.” He motioned for me to follow him again, and I begrudgingly did so.

I could not think of anything I wanted less than to spend time in an enclosed space with Hugo. Or any space, really. We’d not exactly hit it off at the pub, and that was clearly a theme we were going for given that we’d sniped at one another every time we’d spoken.

So sitting in a car?

No, thank you.

“I’ll ride the bike back,” I said when he opened the front door.

“Just let me take you. I’m trying to be nice,” he huffed.

“You’re only being nice because she told you to be. You’re not doing it out of the goodness of your heart. There’s a difference.” I stepped outside.

He followed me, pulling the door closed behind him. “Either way, think of it as an olive branch.”

“I’m not a fan of olives.”

“Of course you’re not.”

I gave him a withering look, then sighed. “How are you going to get the bike back? Do you have a bike rack on your car?”

“I have a pick-up truck.”

I blinked at him. “What is this? Little Texas?”

Hugo scratched his cheek. “Look at where I live.”

Pointedly, I turned around and stared at the huge manor house. “Downton Abbey?”

He licked his lips and looked up.

I swear.

If he did that counting thing he did with his Grandma…

“Don’t start counting,” I warned him.

His gaze snapped down. “You caught that?”

“You have the discretion of a pick-up truck parked outside Downton Abbey.”

“Maybe I should count to ten instead of three with you,” he muttered, walking over to where I’d left Nora’s bike. “It might make me be able to be nice to you for real.”

“I’m not a child.”

“You’re acting like one.”

“So are you.”