“Probably. Them or the crows. Or magpies. They’re all a nuisance.”

He put the remaining packets back into a wooden storage unit and turned around. “Oh, uh…”

“Sorry, sorry.” In my efforts to see what he was doing, I’d apparently forgotten about giving him any personal space. I backed up to exit the shed, but the back of my foot caught on the little lip of the doorway.

My entire life flashed before my eyes as I fell backwards and screamed.

Miles grabbed hold of my arms and yanked me forwards, but since I’d lost control of my centre of gravity there was only one way I was falling: into him.

I did just that.

With a squeal instead of a scream, my body collided with his. He stumbled back, wrapping his arms around me to keep hold of me, and crashed into the wall of plastic pots that were stacked at the back of the shed. Another high-pitched noise escaped me as I gripped onto his shirt and the pots rained down on us in a cacophony of clatters and bangs that reverberated off the shed walls.

One final pot clattered to the ground, and I finally dared to open my eyes. “Has it stopped?” I whispered.

“I think so,” Miles replied quietly. “You’re just a walking disaster, aren’t you?”

“That’s rude.” I went to push myself up and, after pressing one hand against the wall next to his head, finally realised where I was.

Against his body.

Firmly.

My fingers had wound themselves completely in his t-shirt, and my body couldn’t be pressed any closer to his. His legs were bent slightly as he held himself steady against the wall, and because of how we fell, I was trapped between his thighs.

And, boy.

He had a pair of thighs.

I didn’t need to see them to know they were made of granite. I could feel it.

More than all of that, we were eye to eye, and I was almost leaning over him. If my arm gave out now, I’d actually end up kissing him.

Hm. Tempting.

But a very bad idea, nonetheless.

Not that it stopped me kind of wanting to.

His lips were right there.

So was he.

And he wasn’t making me move, either. His gaze dropped briefly to my mouth, the way it had in the garden before, and if my own heart wasn’t picking up the pace, I’d swear it was his.

His fingers twitched against my back, briefly tightening and pressing into my skin, and my breath caught when his thumb moved oh-so-gently in something that felt awfully like a tender stroke.

Was this what he meant when he said he did smile at me?

Had I gotten it wrong all along?

Did he actually… like… me?

There was a sharp movement in my peripheral, and I started, turning in enough time to fully see Miles bat away one last pot that fell off the shelf.

I cleared my throat and pushed away from him. “We should really…”