She trails off, gazing up at me with so much hope. I press my front door wider, heart squeezing. “Come in.”

She’s moving out. Gwen tells me all about it over a mug of steaming tea, dunking the biscuits I give her into the milky fluid. She chatters so brightly, spilling over with enthusiasm, and I’m beginning to think she talks so freely like this with me, a near stranger, because no one else will listen.

I fucking hate that. Those people don’t know what a treasure they have.

“And if I stay, they’ll definitely keep nagging me to marry the Thomas boy, and even if I refuse I just know I’ll grow old and die on that farm without ever living my own life. And I’m twenty one, you know? I should do things. I should go places. I should…”

“Be respected in your home.”

Gwen flushes, dunking another biscuit. It softens as she steals glances at me, the crumb darkening, then drops into her tea with a plop. “Yes. Oh.”

“I’ll make you another.”

I start to rise but Gwen grabs my sleeve, keeping me at the kitchen table. Every nerve ending in my body zeroes in on the brush of her knuckles against my forearm.

“No, don’t worry. I do it all the time. I don’t mind drinking tea with bits in.”

My huffed laugh makes her beam, and lord, I don’t see that expression enough. No one does. Life should be kinder to a sweet girl like Gwen. With her wild blonde curls and her rosy apple cheeks, I don’t know how anyone can stand to put her down.

“I’ll help however you need. With finding a place and getting a job. But you’ll have more choice with both if you look further than this valley.”

Gwen’s gaze suddenly drops. She scratches at the wooden table, avoiding my eye. “Okay. Well, I can’t look too far. There are—there are important things here. You know. Things I don’t want to leave.”

What things?

Is there a man? A lover she won’t let go?

I cross to put the kettle on again, suddenly sick. It’s none of my business. And it won’t stop me helping her, but lord, I wish she hadn’t told me that.

“Whatever you need,” I repeat, and her relieved sigh is a balm.

I mean that: whatever she needs. Starting with a fresh mug of tea.

* * *

“Resourceful? Team player? Do all resumes sound like complete bullshit?”

Three hours, two sandwiches and a word doc later, my laptop glows on the kitchen table and Gwen lounges in my lap, one arm slung around my neck. She settled onto my thighs an hour ago like it was the most natural thing in the world, saying it would help us read the screen together, and I’ve been in hell ever since.

“They do when you’re starting out. Sorry.” I wince as Gwen wriggles on my legs, trying to get comfortable, her ass moving dangerously close to the proof of her effect on me. My cock’s been so hard for the last hour that I’m surprised I’ve had enough blood in my brain to think straight at all.