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He’d aimed too high. Frustrated with himself, and with the center for not having the decency to reply and put him out of his misery, he shut the lid on his laptop, stuffed it back on his bedside table and trooped back to the kitchen to rescue the shepherd’s pie.

Anna was already there, getting out the cutlery. As she hadn’t spotted him, he stood for a moment in the doorway, watching her. She had to be listening to music on her Air pods because she jiggled her hips, doing some strange dance to the beat. It wasn’t smooth, wasn’t sexy . . . dorky was the best adjective he could come up with.

It caught him by the throat.

Maybe some of that was because it reminded him so much of Colin. His friend had never minded making a fool of himself on the dance floor, waving Luke up to come and join him. Of course he’d shaken his head. Colin had enjoyed being the center of attention. Luke preferred to watch from the shadows.

“Oh.” Anna stopped her goofy dance routine and pulled out her ear pod. “I was just setting the table.”

“So I saw,” he said dryly, then nodded to where she’d laid out the glasses and plates. “We’re not eating on our laps today?”

“Nope. I thought shepherd’s pie deserved something more civilized.”

He walked towards the oven, but at the same time she turned towards the table and they collided somewhere in the middle. “Sorry.”

He caught her by the arms to steady her and, as if there was a magnetic force between them, he swayed towards her. Or had she swayed towards him? His gaze dropped from her vivid blue eyes, over her cute freckles and down to the natural pink of her lips.

Lips that tempted, that demanded he press his own to them, feel how soft they were.

Her tongue darted out from between them and he groaned. “We can’t do this, Anna.”

Another sweep of her tongue. “Do what?”

“Whatever it is you’re thinking right now,” he countered gruffly.

Her hot blue gaze found his. “Say, for the sake of argument, I was thinking I wanted you to kiss me.”

His dick surged behind his zipper and his eyes refused to stop staring at her mouth, at that distracting tongue. It was far too easy to imagine it licking his lips, his skin, his . . . “Not a good idea,” he rasped.

He needed to step back, to take a breath, but he’d lost control of his feet. Lost control of his common sense.

Christ, those eyes of hers . . . they sucked him in. Before he knew what he was doing, he’d slid one hand around the back of her neck, into that mound of hair. The other pressed against the small of her back, fingers flexing, feeling the warmth of her skin through her jumper.

“I need you to remind me why it’s not,” she whispered, her breath hot against his mouth.

“It would complicate the hell out of these next few weeks,” he murmured, unable to resist nudging her nose with his. Trailing kisses across her freckles. Dipping his head to feather his lips overs hers. Punching his hips against her belly, hard against soft.

Her breath hitched. “Maybe it would be worth it.”

Do you really think this is what Colin intended? A voice niggled. Take advantage of his kid sister when she’s grieving and vulnerable?

He heaved in a deep, shuddering breath and stepped back.

“The shepherd’s pie will be burning.” He marched to the oven and turned it off.

“I . . . umm, don’t think I’m hungry anymore.” Anna’s voice was horribly quiet.

He didn’t know what to say, so he grabbed the oven mitt from the worktop and bent to rescue the pie. By the time he’d taken it out and turned round, she’d gone.

Crap.

He ate it by himself at the table she’d so carefully set. It tasted of cardboard, seasoned with regret. When he’d finished, he spooned some onto a plate for her, gave it a zap in the microwave, and knocked on her bedroom door.

“Anna.” No reply. Maybe she had her air pods in again. Or maybe she wasn’t talking to him. “I’ve got you some pie. I’ll leave it outside.” Silence. Whether it was because he thought she wasn’t listening, or because he felt he owed her, he cleared his throat. “Thank you for today, for getting me to talk about Mum. It was the first time in years I’ve remembered her when she wasn’t sick.”

Still no answer. With a sigh he trudged off to his room, wondering what fresh hell tomorrow might bring.

December 10th