Jamie cast his eyes heavenward and muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like It’s not the only thing.

Melting bonelessly into the warmth of his coat, her heart thumping unevenly, she smiled fuzzily, beyond all hope. “Come here.”

“Absolutely not.”

“But I want you to kiss me.”

“I got that, which is why I’m not moving so much as one inch closer.”

Mika felt this was distinctly unfair, but then it occurred to her that maybe she’d misinterpreted his expression and she was actually being politely rejected. “Do you maybe not want to kiss me? Because that’s okay.”

He moved his jaw gently out of her reach. “It’s not about what I want.”

“I think you’re avoiding the question.”

“And I think you’re delirious, and not even close to thinking straight,” Jamie said, his voice low and not quite steady. “So no, I’m not going to kiss you.”

“Well, fuck.”

“Yeah, I’m not going to do that to you, either. Not like this.”

Not like this.

He seemed to realise what he’d said the same moment she did. Her heart thudded and her mouth opened, lips forming a soundless oh. He stared at her mouth, made a soft sound in his throat, and looked away. His hands clenched the steering wheel.

“Time to go,” he rasped, starting the car. “You should probably eat something before we drive back.”

“Oh, I have already. I had a whole plate of scones.”

There was a bit of amusement in his voice now. “Something other than a whole plate of scones.”

“There was a pot of jam and clotted cream, too.”

“You’re not making this sound any better.”

“Heathen,” she said, yawning.

Her eyes drifted closed to the sound of a seatbelt clicking into place, and when they opened, it looked like some time had passed because they were pulling out of a drive-through and Jamie had deposited a cheeseburger, fries, and, hilariously, one of those child-sized bottles of juice on her lap.

“Is the fruit juice supposed to balance out all the salt and sugar?” she asked, popping a fry in her mouth and closing her eyes blissfully at the taste. “Because I feel like I should tell you that it’s a Band-Aid over a bullet hole. It’s going to take two lettuces, three carrots, and a whole pumpkin to offset the heart attack that plate of scones and this dinner is on its way to causing.”

“And yet,” he said, stealing one of her fries, “you appear to be eating that dinner with little to no concern for said heart attack.”

“You only live once.” Glancing out of the window at the spires of a cathedral, she tried to picture Jamie in his twenties. “Do you miss living here?”