Thankfully, Mason didn't return. As promised, Maddy's cooking was absolutely delicious, even better than Sophie's in my opinion but of course I'd never tell her that.

"Why did Mason call you a brother from another mother?" I asked, picking at a hash brown.

Luke pulled his lips into a thin line. "My brothers and sisters all have the same parents except for me. I'm the odd one out. Same father, different mother."

"Ah, ok." I couldn't help but feel slightly awkward. "Sorry, I didn't mean to poke at stuff."

He shook his head. "Their mum died years ago. When my father met my mother, they had no intentions of adding any more children. She already had two and my father already had seven. Still, I guess the universe felt an even ten was better than nine."

"Are they all local? Your brothers and sisters?"

He nodded. "Unfortunately."

"You don't have issues like that with all of them, surely?"

He laughed. "No, just Mason. There's always been sour grapes between us. Probably because I'm a constant reminder that his dad moved on."

"What did he expect? Your dad to be single forever?"

"Knowing Mason, most likely. He's rather unreasonable at the best of times."

"You don't say."

We both laughed and finished up our drinks. Maddy reappeared to take our empty cups and gave Luke a cheeky wink. "Seeing as you've finally brought someone to meet us, does that mean you've told her your biggest secret?"

Luke's face visibly paled. "No, Maddy, I haven't."

She put a hand over her mouth and giggled. "Oops. Did I let the cat out of the bag?"

I raised an eyebrow and smirked. "This sounds good."

"It's not a good climate to find jobs, Madeline," Luke said, frowning.

"Oh, I love it when you use my full name. Makes me feel all naughty," she said, giggling as she skipped back to the kitchen.

I grinned at Luke.

"What?"

"Come on. You've got to tell me now."

He rolled his eyes. "It's really not that good."

"I think I should be the judge of that."

Maddy returned with two side plates, two thick chunks of Victoria sponge with oozing cream and strawberry jam. "Here you go," she said, her voice all high and sweet.

"This doesn't cut it as an apology," Luke said, snatching at a plate and digging in with a fork.

Maddy grabbed a chair from the next table and sat down next to me. "Did you notice anything weird about our names?" she said, bumping my shoulder with hers and smiling at Luke.

I thought over the three names I'd heard so far—Mason, Marissa, Maddy. It took me a second or two to wonder. Not sure if I might be wrong, I hesitantly asked, "Is it they all begin with M?"

"She's a clever one, hey, Luke?" Maddy said, bouncing her leg up and down under the table.

A wide grin burst out over my face. "Am I right in guessing Luke isn't your first name?"

He narrowed his eyes at his sister. "I hate you so much right now."

"No, you don't. You love my cake too much."

Luke continued stuffing the fluffy cake into his mouth with a deep crease on his forehead.

"Luke is also short for something," she whispered to me.

"Alright," he said, putting his fork down and glaring at his sister. "Enough now. Get. Scram."

Giggling like a naughty toddler, Maddy headed back into the kitchen.

"I like her," I said, trying to control my grin.

"I don't anymore," he said, standing up. "Come on, let's go riding. I've got lots I want to show you."

"But nothing you want to tell me?"

The beginnings of a smirk tweaked at his lips. "Maybe. We'll see."

***

Luke showed me around all the farms and the land that he owned. I couldn't believe my eyes. We ambled around at a steady walk, chatting about anything and everything—except the case of his mysterious name.

He seemed in such a good mood after the confrontation with his brother that I didn't want to spoil how well things were going by potentially pushing him back into a bad mood so I left it—for the time being. I had no intentions of forgetting it, that was for sure.

My problems with Dad and Marcus seemed a whole other world away from the peaceful bubble Luke had created. Riding Missy was nothing but a pleasure and when it came to finally getting off, I really didn't want to.

"Have I converted you then?" he asked.

I debated suggesting a trade for my answer for his name but wasn't quite brave enough. "Perhaps. Maybe I need another ride or two to make up my mind."

He laughed. "I'm sure that can be arranged."

By the time we got back to his house and collapsed on the sofa, the realisation of going home hit me. Almost instantly, the relaxation and enjoyment from the day became replaced with anxiety.

"What's up?" Luke said, watching me bite my nails.

"Kinda nervous about going home. Not sure of the reaction I'm going to get."

"When are you going?"

I looked at the clock—six p.m. already. "I don't know. I don't know if it's best to leave it until tomorrow or whether to brave it tonight."

"What do you feel is right?"

"In all honesty, tomorrow. But when I think about leaving it until tomorrow all I can think about is that he'll say I should have come home tonight."

"Cat, you're overthinking again. Just go with your gut feeling. Do what's right for you. You've done what your dad needed by giving him some space for the weekend. Now this part is about what you need. He's not an unreasonable man."

I snorted. "You do remember yesterday morning, right?"

He chuckled. "Come on now, we both know there are extenuating circumstances here. You caught him by surprise with something he thought he had control of at the direst time of his life."

Tears pricked at my eyes. "Thanks for the reminder."

Moving to sit next to me, he curled an arm around my shoulders and pulled me into his side. "I didn't mean it like that. How would you feel about staying here another night and then we both head to yours in the morning? Would that make you feel better?"

A wave of relief washed through me. "You have no idea. Yes, please. Thank you."

He grinned. "How about a Chinese takeaway and some Netflix?"

I raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting Netflix and chill to me?"

He burst out laughing. "The fact we'll have to sit on my bed to watch it has no underlying meaning to what I'm suggesting." He cleared his throat. "How about we have a Chinese and watch some TV?"

I giggled. "Sure, sounds good to me."

Giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze first, he then let me go and walked over to the mantelpiece to grab his phone. When I told him I'd eat anything with prawns in it, I didn't expect him to order what sounded like the entire seafood range from the Chinese.

"How much food do you think I eat?" I asked when he hung up.

A sly grin spread over his face. "How much food do you think I eat?" He gestured down at himself. "It's been a while since I indulged in prawns so I thought I'd take the opportunity. Unless of course you want it all for yourself? I'm happy to order more and keep it for leftovers."

I shook my head. "I usually only have a chow mein or a rice dish and maybe some spring rolls or wontons."

"Is that all?"

I frowned. "Yeah..."

"No wonder you haven't got any meat on your bones. Good call on the wontons though."

Before I could open my mouth, he'd redialled the restaurant and ordered wontons, spring rolls, and two portions of chicken chow mein. My jaw dropped.

"What?" he asked, sliding his phone in his pocket.

"First, I dread to think how much that lot will cost. Second, how much food?"

An impish grin unfolded over his handsome face. "First, it's not up to you to worry over cost, this is my treat. Second, this is pretty much my diet. One giant order from the Chinese usually lasts me the week, sometimes more, sometimes less."

"You can't be serious?"

"Why?"

"Haven't you heard of a supermarket?"

He laughed. "Ok, let me stop you there. Men and supermarkets—bad idea. All we do is chuck stuff in the trolley that's completely irrelevant and will last about five hours max. Then we end up at the overpriced corner shop where we buy more useless crap that lasts maybe a day at the most. This way—" he pointed at his phone "—I avoid the shops and save myself a load of money at the same time. It's a win win."

I giggled. His logic had some sense but also major flaws. "Ok, what about your diet? I'm sure noodles and bean sprouts aren't supposed to be what you sustain yourself on. What about fruit and veg, leafy greens, that kind of thing?"

He pursed his lips and frowned. "Well, the chow mein has green bits in it, from spring onions I think. Oh, and the Cantonese style dishes have carrots, pineapple, and peppers in. Then there's the vegetable spring rolls. The key thing is right there in the name."

I facepalmed myself and shook my head. "Oh my word. You are unbelievable."

"Why thank you," he said, wiggling his eyebrows up and down. "And we've not even been in my bedroom yet."

"Luke!" I threw a sofa cushion at him and laughed. "Stop it."

"Somebody's blushing," he said in a mocking voice. "You look so cute."

"Cute? I'm not six." I grabbed another cushion and hurled it at him, smacking him square in the chest.

"You throw like a girl." He chuckled to himself as he picked up the cushions and placed them back on the sofa.

"I throw like a girl, because I am a girl."

He nodded. "Yes. You throw like a six-year-old girl."

"Teach me how to throw properly then," I said, raising an eyebrow in question.

"Game on. But not with my sofa cushions. We'll save that as a project for the next time I save you from Mr Darcy, sorry, Davenport."

I rolled my eyes. "Stop it..."

He grinned. "Couldn't help it. Sorry."

"No, you're not."

"No, you're right, I'm not."

I laughed. "I can see the resemblance though. The whole sexy smouldering glances and mysterious ways about him."

Luke laughed. "I'm bowing out of this conversation before I end up with my sofa feebly thrown at me. What would you like to drink?"

"Chicken. I think my throws are good and that's why you're bowing out. Just a squash will do, thank you."

"You keep telling yourself that," he said, smirking. "Squash? Come on, Cat. You can be a bit more daring than that."

"Are you trying to get me drunk whilst locking me in your bedroom with the 'TV'?" I asked, smiling.

"Not at all. I'm merely suggesting that you relax with the aid of alcohol and should you become unstable, I will be there to help."

I burst out laughing. "What have you got?"

"You name it, I've got it."

"Strawberries, champagne, and chambord."

"Except that." He ran out of the room and returned seconds later with a punnet of fresh strawberries. "I do have these though."

"Wow, you have fruit!"

"I am partial to being a bit fruity now and again," he said, giving me a cheeky wink.

I knew this was only banter and meant in jest but at the back of my mind, I couldn't help but think how I'd feel if Marcus had this kind of a conversation with another woman. Would it bother me? I couldn't say. Although, if that woman happened to be Selina, yes, it most definitely would.

"Have you got any Malibu? Or Vodka? Or Peach Schnapps? I love that stuff!"

He disappeared again and reappeared with all three of my said drinks.

"Have you got a hidden bar or something?"

"Maybe," he said, grinning.

"Can I have Schnapps and lemonade please?"

"Coming right up."

I followed him into the kitchen, marvelling at the huge traditional farmhouse décor. Everything was wood, proper solid oak, and it harboured that delicious aged smell that historic things seem to somehow acquire. He even had an old Aga against the back wall which looked to be in pristine condition.

"You have that and you don't cook?"

"That's why I don't cook. I'm preserving it."

I laughed. "That's such a lame excuse."

"Hey, I'm a busy man. Grab and go meals are what suits my lifestyle."

"Ahhhh, poppity-ping food. You know they sell that in the supermarkets?"

He laughed. "What did you just say?"

"They sell microwave meals in the supermarkets."

"No, before that."

My cheeks flared with heat. "Poppity-ping."

"What is that?"

I giggled. "My great nan was Welsh. That's what they call microwave meals. I loved the way she used to say it when I was a kid and it's just kind of stuck."

"Poppity-ping," he said, popping the p's. "I like that better than ding-box."

"Ding-box." I laughed. "What a name."

He gestured to the microwave. "It's a box and it dings when it's done."

"At least mine is original. Yours has the logic of a six-year-old boy."

"Touché," he said, laughing.

I grinned and curtsied. "Why thank you."

"Your reward is taking the drinks upstairs."

I laughed. When he passed me a pint glass of Schnapps and lemonade, my laughter stopped. "A pint? A pint of Schnapps and lemonade? Are you trying to kill me?"

"I'm just thinking ahead. I don't want to interrupt Netfl—TV by having to come down for more drinks so I'd rather take too much than not enough."

Shaking my head, I grabbed my glass, and his pint of gin and tonic, and headed upstairs. As I wondered what his bedroom would be like, I suddenly became very aware of the fact that this would look incredibly wrong to any outsiders. Other than go to sleep at six at night, the only option for entertainment happened to be in Luke's bedroom—in the form of a TV of course. However, I couldn't help but feel guilty.

As I opened the solid wooden door, the overwhelming scent of the woods and the outdoors hit me. I could pick out fir trees for sure, and a crisp cleanliness like early morning dew. Two huge windows dominated most of the facing wall, each one open and allowing the fresh air to blow inside.

To the right, a sturdy king size oak framed bed, neatly made up with plain navy bedding. On the wall facing the bottom of the bed sat a huge TV with a soundbar on the top. I noticed the speakers hung up in each corner and looked behind me to see speakers in those corners too. Surround sound. Nice. Two small alcoves housed his clothes keeping the rest of the room free of furniture save for a large bedside cabinet on either side of the bed.

"I normally take the centre of the bed so you can take the floor," Luke said, coming into the room.

I held up his glass and grinned. "Careful or I'll drink your drink."

He'd brought two lap trays up with him with cutlery and put them down on the bed. He folded his arms across his chest and smirked. "Go on then."

I hesitated. Was he calling my bluff?

He reached out and took my drink from me. "I'll even hold your drink for you."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I took a sniff of the gin and tonic. It didn't smell that bad. I'd never tried gin, but I'd heard plenty of my friends rave about it.

"Go on then," he said. "Good stuff that is. The best. Beefeater dry gin."

Bravado took over. He thought I'd back out. Without thinking, I put the glass to my lips and took a huge mouthful, all the while staring at Luke. The amusement dancing in his eyes soon became clear as I swallowed.

A hot burning sensation, like a thousand little barbs, tore down my throat, combined with a vile aftertaste which I presumed to be the tonic. I spluttered and started coughing at which point a chuckling Luke grabbed the remainder of his drink from my hand.

"That'll put hairs on your chest," he said.

I tried to speak but I couldn't stop coughing.

"Here," he said, handing me an open bottle of water. He rested a hand on my back and gently rubbed it up and down. "That was a hefty mouthful you took. Not even I drink that much at once."

I took the water and poured it down my throat. It eased the raging fire but didn't quite get rid of the rancid taste.

"That is the devil's drink," I gasped.

He laughed. "It's a man's drink. That stuff is how you differentiate men from men."

I shook my head and took another swig of water. "No. That is how you differentiate psychos from normal people. Jeeze. That's pure torture in a bottle."

He kept chuckling to himself as he pointed at the bed. "I think after that I'll let you have the bed."

I rolled my eyes. "It's big enough for the both of us."

His jokey energy evaporated in an instant. "Cat, I really don't think that's a good idea."

"You're hardly going to be comfy sat on a wooden floor and it is your bed."

He closed his eyes and scrubbed his hands over his face. "Why do you have to make this so hard?"

"It's not the middle of the night," I said, in the sweetest voice I could muster. "It's still daylight outside."

"Cat..." His voice sounded strangled, as if his voice broke when he said my name.

My heart actually ached when he spoke. The agony in that single syllable made me want to rake my words back in. "I'm sorry. I'll shut up. What do you want to watch?"

I sat down on the bed and grabbed the TV remote from the middle of the pillows. When I turned back around, I found Luke kneeling at the side of the bed, at my feet. Taken aback, I jumped a little, but my heart kept on jumping.

"Look," he said, taking the remote out of my hand and cradling my hands in his. "If you were mine and you were in Davenport's bedroom, cuddled up on the bed, watching TV with alcohol and a film, I'd go spare. I think I would genuinely lose my mind."

"So now you're concerned about Marcus' feelings?"

He shook his head. "No. I'm just not willing to use you as a pawn in this..." He pressed his lips together, I guessed searching for words "...thing we have between us."

"Shared abhorrence for each other," I said.

"Yeah, that."

"Whilst that's very considerate of you, what about what I want? Or what you want?"

He closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. "What I want doesn't even come into the equation. Of course what you want does but I still have to be mindful of boundaries."

My heart somersaulted inside my chest. A lump stuck in my throat. What he wanted? What did he want? I licked my lips and dared to ask the question. "What do you want?"

A couple of seconds ticked by. Then he opened his eyes. When I saw the longing mixed with pain swirling around in his chocolatey depths, I knew the answer right to the core of my very soul.

"Oh..." I whispered. "Luke, I..."

He squeezed my hands and whispered, "Don't."

Water glazed over my vision. I recognised the fact I liked Luke, right on the edge of more than a friend, but I was spoken for and that was a cold harsh reality we both had to take note of.

"Can I have a hug at least?" I asked.

He smiled. "Of course."

He let go of my hands and rose up on his knees, still a head taller than me in that position. As he slid his arms around my back I sighed in contentment and closed my eyes. My head seemed to find its own way to his shoulder and I nestled against his neck, inhaling his earthy smell. I wound my arms around his middle, his width meaning my hands barely reached each other around his back.

I felt his face buried in my hair and when I heard him suck in a deep breath, I knew he was smelling it.

"I love your smell," he whispered, his lips moving against my ear. "So vibrant. It's like it's all around me, coconuts, lots and lots of coconuts."

He nuzzled into my hair further giving me goosebumps. Was I supposed to reply? Was I supposed to say something equally as sweet to him?

"I—"

"Don't," he said, his voice quiet and soft. "Just let me have this moment."

I relaxed into his warmth, enjoying the feeling of something familiar and sturdy around me. I felt safe, safer than I ever had done, and I knew the second this ended, I'd only be craving more.

In that instant, I understood why he wouldn't approach the boundaries, let alone cross them. My feelings for Marcus, although muddied by last night, were still as strong as before. It would be nothing but wrong and disgusting of me to drag Luke into the middle of this. Whatever this was with us was just something born out of insecurities and needing comfort, nothing else.

He moved a hand then and before I could even think I said, "No."

With a gentle sweeping motion, he moved his fingers up and down my back. "That's all I was going to do," he said. "I want to hug you tighter but you're so fragile."

I shook my head. "Hug me tighter. I don't care if you crack all the bones in my body." Silence fell between us. He didn't hug me tighter. "Luke, I have to say something."

He shook his head. "No, Cat. You don't. Some things are best left unsaid."

I opened my mouth to argue with him, but my moment became lost to a loud knock at the front door.

"Food's here," he said, still not moving. "This is the end of crossing boundaries, Cat. It has to be."

For some reason his words felt like an axe chopping through my heart and soul. It was as if he were breaking up with me even though there was nothing but a friendship to break. I fought back a wave of tears and nodded.

He pressed a kiss to the side of my head and then in the blink of an eye, he was up and out of the room. That was it. Moment over.