In one swift move, he slides his arms around me, lifts me up and sits me on the bed of his truck, then stands on his tiptoes and presses his lips against mine.

‘It’s way too early for that sort of display,’ I murmur against his mouth, holding onto his shoulder for support.

Even so, it’s nice to be taller than him for once, and I slide my arms over his shoulders and cross my hands behind his neck, my fingers automatically winding in his dark hair as he kisses me again. As usual when his lips are involved, I lose track of time, but when we pull back, the sky looks lighter and birds have started chirping their morning chorus.

I tighten the loop of my arms around his neck and rest my forehead against his because I don’t want to lose this yet even though I know we need to get going.

‘Are we going to keep this to ourselves?’ I whisper. ‘It’s just that I like Fiona and I suspect she might burst if she finds out, and I’d quite like her to not burst.’

He laughs, panting for breath, and I try not to think about the fact that he can chop down and lug around a few hundred Christmas trees without breaking a sweat, but kissing me makes him pant.

‘Are you kidding? It’s our duty to avert the mild coronary event that will occur if she finds out. Besides, you’re my wee secret and I want you all … to … myself.’ He punctuates every word with a brief kiss, and I can feel the butterflies in my belly taking flight again because being ‘his’ anything is all right by me.

I pull back and smooth his hair down where I’ve had my hand tangled in it, and he closes his eyes and actually looks like his knees are going to buckle for a moment. ‘As much as I hate being the sensible adult – you’ve got to stop doing that or we’re going to be late on the one day that we really need to be early.’

His arms slide around my waist and he lifts me down, setting me safely back on the snowy ground. ‘Breakfast and coffee’s in the front. I’ll finish loading.’

I gratefully retrieve the travel cup of pumpkin spice latte and stand in the open passenger door while I watch him shake his hair out and tie it up, his bicep muscles straining against his shirtsleeves as his hands move behind his head. More paint flakes off as my hands tighten involuntarily on the truck door, and I know he knows the affect that has on me and he’s doing it on purpose. And I really don’t mind.