After everyone has eaten what’s quite likely their best meal of the year – including the dessert, which was devoured in record time – I head back into the kitchen to start scraping and stacking plates. A hand suddenly rests on my shoulder.

“I can take over, Trish,” says Scott, his breath warm on my cheek.

I shake my head. “Have you eaten yet?”

“No, but”

“You can take over once you’ve had food,” I state firmly.

Heat is radiating not just from Scott’s palm resting on my shoulder, but his whole body. I’m clearly not the only one who’s finding things hot around here.

“Fine,” Scott says reluctantly. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Less than ten minutes later, Scott returns, accompanied by Lucas.

“Right, Trish, step away from those dishes,” Lucas states. “I’ve given Scott here strict instructions to drag you out of this oven. You’ve been amazing, as always, but it’s time to rest, OK?”

I glare at Scott, guessing he was the one who got Lucas involved in this effort to have me evicted. But Scott’s looking remarkably unruffled by the daggers I’m shooting in his direction.

“Let’s go, Trish. I’m taking you down to the waterfront for a giant scoop of the world’s best Italian gelato and we’re going to sit on the wharf to cool off.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

Truth is, I’d love a gelato more than anything else in the world right now, but I’m not going to tell him that.

Scott grins and shrugs. “We can do this the hard way or the easy way. Either way, you’re coming with me.”

Lucas slaps Scott on the back, laughing. “Ah! You’ve met your match here, Trish, my girl. Now get on with you.” He gives me a not-so-light shove towards the door.

The moment I’m out of the building, I stomp off down the road, Scott running to catch up.

“OK, slow down – you’ve made your point.”

“What’s my point, Scott?”

Scott clasps my arm lightly, forcing me to slow

“Trish, please accept that others actually care about you and should be allowed to watch out for you. That’s how relationships work.”

“Really?” I snap.

“Yes, really.” He crosses his arms and studies me with a frown. “Can we go and eat gelato now, please?”

I blow damp hair from my forehead with a loud sigh. “Yes. But, Scott, for future reference, I don’t cope well with being told what to do.”

“Yeah.” Scott’s frown is replaced by a gentle smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

My toes tingle and I have to look away from his searching brown eyes.

*

“That was one of the best Christmas Days I’ve ever had,” announces Scott as we approach my car. “Which says something about my childhood, I suppose.”