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“What was Colin thinking when he wrote this inside today’s advent window?”

Luke let out one of his low rumbling noises. “If I was charitable, I’d say he enjoyed it so he thought we might, too.” He drew a hand down his face. “Truthfully, he was probably thinking he’d have a laugh watching us make arses of ourselves.”

She winced. “You live in America. We make asses out of ourselves.”

“Mum used to say arses.” He shrugged. “The result is the same. We get on the board, we fall off. Somewhere floating round this universe, Colin laughs.”

Her chest tightened, the familiar ache making itself felt. “You really believe he’s watching us?”

Luke turned his head to look at her. “You don’t?”

“I want to believe it, but it seems implausible. His ashes are in a pot on the mantlepiece.”

“It seems implausible that any of us are here, on this planet.” Luke gave her a small smile. “It doesn’t seem that great a stretch to believe a version of Colin is looking down on us now.”

Grateful for the kernel of hope that Colin was still with her in some way, she returned his smile with one of her own. When their gazes tangled, something in her chest swelled and pushed against her ribcage. Finally, she felt a bond with her brother’s friend. A shared desire to keep Colin with them, however that might look.

The longer she stared at Luke though, watching as his eyes turned from a moss green to a warmer, richer, olive green, the more she realized it wasn’t a shared bond making her heart race. Nor could she blame it on the thought of skateboarding.

Luke was more than attractive, more than hot. He was striking, arresting. She’d noticed it yesterday when he’d pulled off the impossible and made the goofy reindeer headband look sexy. His first smile had been forced, but a real one had followed, making his eyes crinkle at the corners, his lips kick up to reveal a flash of white teeth, one incisor slightly chipped, deep grooves either side of his mouth . . .

No. Shaking the memory away, she dragged her gaze from his. She was not going to develop a crush on Colin’s broody best friend. That would be . . . weird. And very inconvenient. Especially as she was sharing a roof with him for another twenty-two days. “There are only twenty-four windows, yes?”

He blinked at the change in topic. “Sorry?”

“On the advent calendar. There were twenty-four, not twenty-five windows. So we don’t have to spend Christmas day together. If we don’t want to,” she added quickly, aware she’d sounded rude.

He turned to stare across the skate park. “I’m sure both of us can think of something better to do on Christmas day.”

Okay, she’d thrown the first jab, but it had been accidental. She wasn’t against spending Christmas day with him, even if he was a grouch, because the alternative was spending it alone, bombarded by memories of happier times. But clearly Luke had a better day planned than putting up with his buddy’s grieving sister.

Her next words were a measure of how desperate she was to change the subject. “We should get going.” She lifted her skateboard and tucked it under her arm like Luke had. Colin had left her one, complete with a red bow, helmet and pads. The effort he’d gone to, despite knowing he was weeks from dying . . . hot tears pricked at her eyes. Whatever his reason for making them do this, she was going to do that effort justice.

She winced as she watched another skateboarder twist in the air and land with a wobble.

They found a quiet part of the park and donned their safety equipment. How was it possible Luke could rock a helmet?

She could barely see out of hers, her hair was too much for it.

“Here.” He pushed at the wayward strands that covered her eyes and, with a surprisingly gentle touch, tucked them inside the helmet. “Better?”

Her heart gave a noisy thump. It had to be nerves because she was about to skate. Had to be. Yet why did her face still tingle from where his fingers had touched? “Thank you.” Her voice sounded scratchy and she coughed. “I should have tied my hair back. It’s a nightmare.”

“It is quite . . .”

“If you say frizzy, I’ll push you off your skateboard.”

Those pretty, green eyes—gah, now she thought they were pretty? They crinkled at the corners. “I was going to say wayward.”

“Fine. I’ll let you have that.”

“Unusual,” he murmured. “Can I have that?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Depends, is that good or bad?” Oh God, was she somehow . . . flirting with him now?

His heavy brows scrunched together, eyes searching hers, like he wondered the same thing. She didn’t know what she expected this man of few words, to say. Her hair was something she put up with, something her boyfriends had put up with. Seriously Anna, can’t you tie it back? How many times had she been told that?

“It’s bad for wearing a helmet,” he replied.