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My hardening dick gets trapped awkwardly in my jeans, and Briony very kindly shifts it through the denim, pointing it up towards my belly button before going back to stroking me.

“Christ, flower girl. I have to go back downstairs and talk to your parents in a minute.”

She hooks a finger in my waistband, tugs it away from my stomach, and peers down the gap.

“Just a few more hours till your reward,” she tells my cock. “I know, I’m excited too.”

She talks to her plants. She talks to bees. She talks to the dog. And, apparently, she talks to my dick.

It’s somehow cute and ridiculous and hot all at the same time.

She lets the waistband go and gives me a wee pat through my jeans. Then she stands up.

“Two minutes,” she says. “Then we’d better head down for coffee, or they’ll wonder where we’ve got to.”

“Two minutes? You’ve just done that and you’re giving me two minutes?”

She grins. “Clock’s ticking.”

“You’re fucking evil, you know that?”

A couple of minutes later, we’re halfway down the stairs—and I’m respectable again—when Briony stops dead and grabs my hand.

Voices are coming from the kitchen. Her maw and da. The door is closed, but even so, they’re not talking quietly and we can hear every word.

Personally, I’m not one for eavesdropping. If somebody’s got a problem with me, I’d rather they said it to my face. But this is Briony’s house, and she’s holding my hand tightly, so I stay beside her.

“They like each other, Kathy,” Neil is saying. “Isn’t that the most important thing?”

“Briony was attacked in the street less than three weeks ago, Neil. I’m allowed to be frightened when the man she’s suddenly fallen for lives in a world built around violence. I need to know that if his temper ever turns, it won’t turn on her.”

The words land like a sucker punch.

I’ve never felt about any lassie the way I feel about Briony. Never in my life. And her maw thinks I might hurt her?

Briony squeezes my hand. “Stay here,” she whispers. Then she lets go, walks down the last few stairs, and disappears into the kitchen.

“Mum.”

“Briony! Darling, how does Ryan take his⁠—”

“I heard, Mum. We both heard.”

“Oh. I didn’t mean it to sound—it came out wrong. I only meant⁠—”

“I know what you meant. Ryan makes me feel safe, Mum. Safe. And worrying he’d hurt me just because of what he does for a living? You’re better than that.”

I come down the last few stairs. Aye, Briony told me to stay put, but I’m not hanging around for this.

I could go in there and tell Kathy that she’s got me all wrong. That I’d never lift a finger to her daughter. But the idea that I should have to convince her of that is fucking insulting.

At the kitchen doorway, I say, “Thanks for having me.” All three turn to look at me. Kathy’s face loses a little colour. “And for dinner. It’s clear the three of you have things to talk about, though, so I’ll leave you to it.”

I nod to Neil, then to Kathy, then turn for the front door.

“No,” Briony says. “I’m coming with you. Penny too. C’mon, Pen.”

“Briony, darling—” Kathy tries.