It had been three days since the run and the flower delivery and the near-miss-kiss, and no matter how much she tried, Jenna couldn’t get the man, or the shock of the intense physical feelings he instilled in her, out of her head.

Maybe if she just kissed him and got that over and done with she could focus on everything else. But, truth was, she doubted that very much.

As it was, she was struggling enough without him being ever present in her mind. Running a business was more exhausting than she’d realised. Then there was everything else; like planning the surprise wedding of the decade, picking up her daughter from nursery and dredging the energy to deal with the toddler fallout that happened every night after dinner but before bed.

‘Mamma.’ Evie tugged Jenna’s trouser leg and pouted. ‘Play dress-ups. You be pirate today.’

Guilt tugged alongside Jenna’s daughter’s little fist. Truth was, she hadn’t been focusing enough on the important things. As her mother was out at her ghost hunting meeting, it was the perfect opportunity for Jenna-Evie bonding. ‘Okay, honey, give me the eye patch. Aha!’

‘I draw mooostash?’

Placing the eye patch over her eye, Jenna rooted into her make-up bag, found a kohl pencil, handed it to Evie and knelt down next to her, offering her face. ‘Okay. Draw me a good one, honey.’

‘’Kay.’ There was something so delicious about watching a three-year-old girl in deep concentration. Jenna felt the heavy breathing, saw the tip of the tongue jutting out and inhaled the baby smell. Her heart just about melted with overwhelming love. This was what was important. This. Evie stepped back and gave a satisfied grin. ‘There. Done. Moostash.’

‘Excellent, let me see.’

Jenna looked in her compact mirror and winced. With the little square of pencil strokes on her top lip, Hitler would have been proud, but possibly not Jack Sparrow. ‘Super job!’ Jenna took the pencil. ‘I’ll just add a bit more to the sides and make it sweep out a bit.’ She then pulled her hair back into a ponytail and tied a scarf round her head, fastening it at the nape of her neck. Assuming they were going to play the Saving Game Evie loved so much, Jenna added, ‘Let’s save you from the wicked witch.’

‘No. I save you.’ Evie dragged out a bright blue dress from the dressing-up box and pulled it on over her pink T-shirt and yellow-black stripy leggings that she’d picked out to wear this morning. ‘I’m Elsa. Elsa save you.’

‘Okay. Yes. That’s the idea. Elsa can save the pirate. Girls can do a lot of saving. Girls can do anything they want.’ That brought on a big smile. She was raising a beautifully independent daughter who was going to be kick-ass and wouldn’t take any crap. ‘Okay. So, I’m on a desert island, held hostage by… who?’

‘Captain Hook.’ Evie pointed to the sofa, completely unbothered about mixing her fairy tales. ‘Stand on there. Dat’s the island.’

‘Okay—’ Halfway through climbing up onto the squishy cushions, Jenna was interrupted by the doorbell. ‘Probably just someone trying to sell me something. Keep playing, lovely, we’ll ignore it.’

‘Or Nana, answer it.’

‘No, Nana’s out tonight, remember?’ Which was why it was so damned lovely to be just the two of them for a change. The bell rang again. Not going away, clearly. With a sigh, Jenna jumped down from the sofa. ‘Okay, okay I’m coming.’

When she opened the door, Nick was standing there, dressed in a grey T-shirt and jeans and wearing an unsure smile. He grinned as he took her in. ‘Hey… er, Jenna? Or should it be… aha me hearties?’

Shoot, she’d forgotten about the moustache. So, it was just routine now; he was never going to see her at her best self. And what the hell should it matter? She was being the best mum self right now, and that was all that mattered. She flicked up the eye patch, all the better to see him. ‘Hey, Nick. Avast and all that.’

His smile grew. ‘Cute outfit.’

‘Thanks. We’re playing dress-ups.’

‘Awww, you mean this isn’t your usual Thursday get-up? How disappointing.’

‘You should see me on Fridays.’

His eyebrows wiggled. ‘I can’t wait.’

‘You have been warned.’ Was this flirting? Or friendly? She was getting so confused trying to keep up with the way things went with him. ‘I didn’t mean—’

‘Mamma! Come back. I save you.’ Thump. Thump. It sounded as if Evie was jumping off the sofa. And again.

‘In a minute, Evie. Be careful.’ She turned her attention back to Nick, torn between the two of them, wanting to be with each, both. But her daughter was her priority. ‘Did you want something, Nick? Only, I need to get on.’

‘Of course, to be saved? From?’

‘My daughter—also known as Queen Elsa from Frozen—is saving me from the evil Captain Hook from Peter Pan. She thinks girls can do anything, and I’m all for that.’

‘Too right. Okay, I won’t keep you when there’s important saving stuff going on.’ He dug into his pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. ‘I just popped round to give you this. It was on the notice board at work, and I thought you might be interested. They’ll have training plans and useful tips.’

She took it and read. Beginners Running Group. Anyone welcome. She imagined a group of super fit army graduates like himself disappearing off into the distance leaving her gasping for breath five miles behind. A bit like the other day, actually. ‘Thanks. That’s very thoughtful, but I’m not sure I feel ready to unleash my shuffle onto the rest of the unsuspecting world. It’s probably safer for me to go it alone.’

He frowned. ‘It does say for beginners, so don’t feel too intimidated. It’s always good to run with other people, at the start anyway. Good company and a reason to get up in the morning; you don’t want to let them down.’

‘I’m not worried about letting them down, more like keeping up.’

‘You’ll be fine.’

‘Judging by my aching muscles that are even worse today than they were the other day, I seriously doubt it. Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll stick to my plan and myself.’

He stuck his hands deep into his jeans pocket and rocked back in his boots. ‘Actually, if I’m honest, I just wanted an excuse to come see if you were okay after the other day. See if we were okay?’

We? ‘Yes. Yes, of course we’re okay.’

‘Things were getting—’

‘Hey. It’s all fine.’ He was going to say something about the almost kiss, and she was going to die of embarrassment, so she jumped in instead. ‘No problem. I was shaken up and you were great to help me. Thanks! Everything’s fine, back to normal.’

His eyes narrowed a little. ‘Normal? Us? You? What is that exactly? For the record?’

‘Oh, you know. This. Stuff.’ Say it. Say it. Draw the line. Look at him and say it. Then everything would be back on an even keel. Back to before she fancied him.

Which was the stark reality of all this. At some point along the way, she’d gone from seeing him as her buddy and pen pal to being a whole lot more. Thinking about his body, reading things into his words, wishing he’d do things to her that she couldn’t say out loud. Her cheeks started to flame. She fancied him, and nothing about that was okay. Because there was no way in hell he’d ever fancy her back. Because even if there was the slightest chance in a zillion that he did, there was no future in it, and by stepping over a line, they could ruin things between them forever. She bit her lip and took a breath, making sure to look him straight in the eye—which was a mistake, because saying words you don’t feel makes them come out wobbly and hollow apparently. ‘You’re a good mate, Nick. A good friend.’

‘Excellent.’ His shoulders relaxed and he huffed out a breath. ‘Yeah. Great. Glad we got that sorted, didn’t want anything weird happening.’

Like all those things that kept popping into her head? ‘Okay.’

She noticed her hands were wringing together. Stop it. Be the woman your daughter thinks you are. She hated the way she felt so nervous around him. When she’d written to him, she’d been able to spill her guts about everything she was feeling about her grief and being a single mother, about the loss and confusion that had derailed her. But now she was tongue-tied and embarrassed, and wished, just once, he’d find her looking normal, acting normal. But friends accepted the crazy, didn’t they? ‘I’d ask you in, but it’s the witching hour and no one needs to witness that if they don’t have to.’

His eyebrows rose. ‘What’s the witching hour?’

‘Clearly you don’t have kids.’

‘No.’ His eyes darkened and he took a small step away from her.

Duh. He’d wanted kids, had been so excited about the baby his fiancée was having, until he’d discovered it wasn’t his. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—’

He put a hand up. ‘It’s fine, Jenna.’

‘Is it?’

There was a pause. He looked guarded again, and she imagined the cogs in his brain telling him to get the hell away. But instead of brushing over it, he said, ‘It wasn’t okay, not for a long time. I wanted that family so badly. It was everything I could have hoped for, but in hindsight, it was a lucky escape, not my kind of thing in the end.’ He looked surprised to have said so much about it. ‘Look, you’re obviously busy. I’ll come round another time.’

‘Oh.’ Things weren’t back on an even keel with him, not at all. In some ways, she preferred it when he was hundreds of miles away and she could just tell him things and know he’d come back with an honest and clear suggestion, and write something to make her laugh and take her mind off her woes. But in many, many other ways, she liked him here. Too much. Somehow she had to find a way through this attraction thing and find her way back to being friends again. She valued his friendship too much to risk muddying it with wayward hormones and lustful leanings. ‘Do you want to come in and wait? I’ve got to give her a bath and get her to sleep, but once I’m done I can throw something together for dinner if you’d like?’

He thought for a moment. ‘No. That won’t do. Not at all.’

‘Oh. I’m quite a good cook, even if I say so myself. I won’t poison you or anything. Looks really can be deceiving.’ Maybe she’d misread the situation. He was shaking his head. ‘Okay, just forget it. Thanks for the flyer though.’

He put up his hand to stop her talking. ‘I mean, I don’t think you should cook at all, not after a day working and then sorting out your little girl. How about I come back in an hour or so with food?’

Was she dreaming? When had this ever happened? A man that brought food? ‘That sounds like the best offer I’ve had in a very long time. Somebody else to think about what to eat for a change. Bliss. Absolute heaven.’

‘I thought you lived with your mum, doesn’t she do things like that?’

‘I do most of the food-related things.’ She wasn’t going to tell him about the way she and Chloe had been left to fend for themselves a lot when they were younger because of their mum’s poor nerves. And how only recently had they discovered the reason why, and it all had to do with their parents’ separation when Chloe and Jenna were very young. Only now was Bridget starting to move forward too. ‘And she’s not here tonight, by the way, so don’t bring heaps.’

‘So it’s just you and me?’ His eyes widened. ‘Okay. Any particular preferences? Thai? Indian? Chinese?’

Her belly growled. ‘Surprise me.’

But he already had. Instead of running as far away as possible, he’d come to check on her and try to get their relationship back on track. Instead of running away at the thought of just the two of them, he’d looked pleased. Enticed. Interested.

She closed the door, leaned against it and gave a small fist pump. He was coming back, and bringing dinner! Tonight she’d show him that things were definitely okay between them, that they weren’t changing, that the friendship they’d grown through their letters was intact and there was nothing more wanted or expected on her side of the equation. ‘Right, Miss Evie, come on, we’re going to have a bath.’

Evie followed her into the bathroom and watched as Jenna poured her favourite bath oil into the running water. The room filled with a divine jasmine scent. ‘Okay, little one, there won’t be room in there for me and you with all these toys. Help me put them in the sink.’

Evie tiptoed and leant into the bath, collecting her floating octopus and her squirters and squeakers, and pushing them into the toy net bag that suckered onto the side of the porcelain. ‘You coming in too, Mamma?’

‘You bet.’ She had to show him, too, that she could be organised, clean, non-sweaty and cupcake-free. That she could be normal, or as normal as she’d ever manage.