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‘Handmade, gourmet, with different flavours depending on the chef’s fancy.’

‘Well, if you put it like that, how can I say no?’

‘I’m hoping you can’t.’ He waved to their waitress and waited until she came over.

‘Are you ready to see the dessert menu?’

‘We’d like to do the firepit fondue, if you’ve room, please?’

She nodded. ‘We’ve a few spaces left. Can I interest you in some of our home-made, fresh marshmallows? The specials today are kiwi and passion fruit.’

‘Definitely,’ Liv answered for them both.

‘Great. If you’d like to make your way outside whenever you’re ready, I’ll bring your dessert to you.’

‘After you.’ Callum held the door open for Liv, and guided her to one of the rattan benches that sat on the deck overlooking the water. The bench itself was laden with cushions and blankets, and positioned in front of a round fire basket that rested on raised legs and was carved with a pattern of swirling branches and leaves that sent the firelight flickering across the water and the deck.

‘It’s so beautiful here.’

‘You’re right. The view is stunning.’

Her hair shimmered in the firelight, and her eyes shone as she turned the prettiest shade of pink at his compliment.

‘You know, I’ve eaten in some of the hippest, most fashionable and expensive restaurants in London,’ Liv mused.

‘It’s the best we have here.’ The Old Mill was one of the best restaurants locally, but Callum was more than aware that even the nicest of country pubs wasn’t going to compare to the shiny, chic eateries she was used to. It was just another reminder of how out of his league she really was. And that she was probably looking forward to heading back — or at least somewhere similar — as soon as her locum contract was over.

‘But I was going to say, I’ve never been anywhere like this. It’s so lovely.’ She stood at the balustrade and stared out over the water. ‘It’s like something out of a fairy tale. The way the light bounces off the water . . . you could almost believe in magic.’

‘Sarah always says it’s fairies dancing. It’s one of her favourite places.’

‘Do you come here a lot with her?’

‘They do family events every so often. We dress up and have a Daddy Daughter date. It probably sounds dumb.’

‘No. It sounds lovely.’ She shivered.

‘Here . . .’ Callum grabbed the blanket off the seat and draped it around her shoulders.

‘Thank you.’ She nuzzled her cheek against his hand and leaned back against him. ‘For tonight, for making me feel so welcome in Broclington, and with your family. It’s meant so much.’

‘It seems wrong that you’re the one thanking me when I owe you so much,’ he argued.

She turned and stretched up on her tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his lips that made him want to grab her, drag her up against him, and do things that would probably get him barred from the Mill. He wanted to taste her mouth, feel her move against him, and explore every inch of her body from the creamy skin of her neck to the long, slender legs that appeared from beneath her short skirt, and back up again.

But it was more than that: he wanted to make her laugh, to comfort her when she was sad, and to just be with her when she was doing nothing at all. And he wanted to teach her about the different plants in his garden, and watch her play with Sarah, which surprised him. He’d spent so much time protecting his daughter from any new person who could harm her, that he was surprised to find himself excited for when they spent time together.

Liv pulled away, and he instantly missed the warmth of her touch. ‘Wow, is that our dessert?’ She stared at the pile of pastel marshmallows and mini cauldron of chocolate that had been hung over the firepit in amazement. ‘No wonder Sarah likes it here.’

Callum speared one of the powdery cubes and swirled it in the heated chocolate. ‘Here, you have to try this.’

The moan that escaped her lips as she bit into the sweet, fruity concoction shot straight from his ears to his stomach, and lower, causing muscles to tighten in excitement. The smile she gave him as she licked a smudge of powdered sugar from her thumb, her eyes never leaving his, made him think he would never, ever be able to look at a marshmallow the same again.

‘Delicious.’ She gave him a shy smile. ‘You’ve been here before. Do you know if they can put this into a to-go box?’

‘I don’t know, Sarah and I have never had leftovers.’

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