Page 107 of Hexed Up

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” I mumble.

“I assume it is,” he says, examining me from across the table. “You’re different from his usual girlfriends.”

You have no idea, I think to myself, nodding my head. Out loud, I say, “I’m not his usual type.”

“No, much cleverer. The others were airheads, the lot of them.”

“Me? Clever?”

“The way you talked with Asha about flowers, your business, and your homeopathy. You obviously know your stuff.”

He’s trying to flatter me. My knowledge about plants hardly points to a deep intellect. “I dropped out of college,” I tell him.

“Then you should think about going back and completing. It’s never too late.”

“That’s what your stepson said.”

“Son,” he corrects. “Horatio is my son. School isn’t for everyone. Horatio, for example, found it difficult. He needed constant challenge, constant encouragement, a constant – excuse my language – kick up the old arse, otherwise he just wasn’t interested and failed to put in the needed effort.”

“But he did okay in the end.”

“More than okay. We’re very proud of his achievements. Very proud of him.” He meets my gaze with a serious one of his own. “All he needs now is to settle down and start a family.”

“Not everyone wants that,” I point out, despite knowing what Horatio told me only minutes ago.

“But I think Horatio does.”

And I realise that Horatio’s stepdad knows him far better than Horatio realises and cares about him far more than he’s ever let himself believe.

Chapter Thirty

Horatio is a lot more relaxed on the drive home, but somehow, despite the fact we’ve left his parents far behind and he no longer requires emotional support, we’re holding hands again, which is sending little darts of electricity shooting up my arm and low into my belly.

“So, how did you find it?” I ask him, rubbing my thighs together and trying to think unsexy thoughts like hairy nostrils, clogged up plug-holes and smelly dog farts.

“Actually, it was okay. It was fine. I’m just glad you were there.” He pauses. “How did you find it, Molly?”

“I enjoyed myself. Your parents are nice.Bothof them are nice.” His gaze leaves the road and finds mine. “Your stepdad really cares about you, Horatio.”

He snorts. “He does?”

“It’s obvious.”

I shift round on the seat, running my thumb over his knuckles. “Can I say something?”

“Shit, I don’t like the sound of that,” he says. “Is it another one of your insults?”

“No,” I say, “but it’s a hard truth.” He groans. “You can take it.”

He puffs out his chest. “Give it to me, then.”

“I think you’re suffering from First Impressions Syndrome too. I think you’re still stuck in the way you felt about Alan when you first met him all those years ago. When you were still reeling from your parents’ divorce. When you’d just moved to the other side of the world. When everything was a mess. And maybe… maybe you’re still stuck in those emotions, and it’s stopping you from seeing how much the man really does care about you.”

“Are we talking about the same man here, Molly? Didn’t you meet him? He’s grouchy. Regimented. Unflinching. I don’t think he’s ever said anything about loving me the whole time I’ve known him.”

“That’s because he’s British, Horatio. And of a certain age. He’s got that whole stiff upper lip thing going on.”

“But he was always getting at me, Molly. He’s still getting at me. You heard what he said about the car.”