“Finn!” Cleo sounded thrilled and as though she’d known Finn for years rather than met him once. She had a talent for immediately warming to people that made Lucy, less extrovert, feel a positive recluse.

“Thanks for dropping in,” Cleo said. She turned to Lucy. “I had a chat with Finn on my way down to see you,” she said. Her mischievous smile suggested she too had heard about their first meeting. “I thought it would be good for you to say hello formally as you’re going to be neighbors.”

“I don’t think Geoffrey understands formal,” Lucy said, stroking the dog’s silky head where it lay on her lap, “but it’s good to meet you properly, Finn.” She tried to match Cleo’s light tone. She knew it would be better to try and get along with Finn even if she wasn’t intending to stay long and didn’t expect to see much of him. Plus she felt a wayward sympathy for Finn’s evident embarrassment and the fact that Cleo had steamrollered him into this meeting. She was used to Cleo and her impulsive ways but judging by the faint flush on Finn’s high cheekbones, he was probably feeling uncomfortable.

“Coffee, Finn?” Cleo said hospitably, brandishing the pot. “Come and join us. There’s plenty.”

Finn looked awkward. “I don’t want to interrupt you—”

“You aren’t,” Cleo said, throwing a smile in his direction as she headed inside. “We’re thrilled to see you, aren’t we, Lucy?”

“Thrilled,” Lucy agreed, deadpan.

Finn’s lips twitched into a tiny smile. He took one of the chairs, sitting back and stretching his long legs out. Lucy felt annoyed. She wasn’t sure why she was reacting against him like this. It wasn’t that she resented him interrupting her time with Cleo; she doubted he would stay long as Geoffrey looked keen for a walk. They had certainly had a difficult first meeting, but they were both adults and could be civil to one another. She was aware, though, that she didn’t want to get to know Finn. She found him unsettling in some way. She remembered the previous night and the way he had seen below the surface of her tiredness to the exhaustion and confusion that was beneath. It had felt way too intimate and she didn’t want to reveal so much of herself. She didn’t particularly want to make new friends, she realized, just to recover in quiet.

She told herself she was being stupid. “I’ve eaten all the French toast, I’m afraid,” she said.

Finn smiled and she had the uncomfortable sense that he had noticed the effort she was forcing herself to make. It made her feel even worse. Was she so transparent? But she was still tired, bone-deep weariness, and had no resources left to pretend.

“No problem,” he said. “Geoffrey and I both had a cooked breakfast at the café, but coffee will be great.”

Cleo reappeared with another mug. “What does Geoff’s cooked breakfast consist of?” she asked.

“Sausage,” Finn said. “Fortunately not eggs.” He accepted the coffee with a smile of thanks and turned to Lucy. “I came to apologize, actually,” he said. “You had a perfect right to expect the cottage to be empty last night. Geoffrey and I were supposed to be staying here at the barn.”