Milly tried to think of a single time Richard had done something similar for her. Not in the months before he’d walked out, certainly. Before that? She let her mind slip further back but still couldn’t think of a time when he’d done something that thoughtful. About once a month he’d bring her a cup of tea in the morning, but he always made it so milky she usually left it untouched.

Why hadn’t she told him how she liked it? Why hadn’t she said I hate my tea milky?

He’d never made her food. If she suggested they eat out, his response was always that her food was better than anything you could order in a restaurant, and while that was flattering, it also meant that there was rarely a night when she didn’t cook.

It crossed Milly’s mind that if Lorna didn’t want to hang on to Duncan, then maybe she’d snap him up herself. “Buying flowers is easy. But delivering a plate of food you can eat without a break in your reading is a wonderful gift. It’s personal.”

“Personal?”

“It shows he knows you and wants to make you happy. That’s romantic.” She felt a pang of envy. “Lucky you.”

Lorna frowned. “A few nibbles on a plate aren’t that special.”

“They are when someone has put them together because they know it will please you. Anyway, back to Brendan Scott—” Milly changed the subject before she could feel even more morose about the state of her own love life. “Does this mean you want to go back to cleaning his cabin?”

Lorna’s face was a picture of horror. “I still find him daunting. Also knowing what goes on in his head is a bit freaky, if you know what I mean. Although I’m not suggesting writers act on the stuff they put in their books. At least I hope they don’t, or you should be taking a look under his floorboards before he checks out. Was there a funny smell in there? Any signs that something might be decomposing?”

Only the food in his fridge. “No. All occupants appeared to be alive. But can I assume from that comment that you don’t want to clean his cabin?”

Lorna flushed. “If that’s okay. I feel guilty giving you more to do.”

“I’m happy to do it.” She decided that perhaps she wouldn’t look too closely at why that might be. He definitely hadn’t been flirting with her. She was embarrassed that it had crossed her mind that he might be. “I’m glad he sent you the flowers. It was a nice touch, although he shouldn’t have glared at you in the first place.”