Summer of Love by Marie Ferrarella (easy to read books for adults list .TXT) 📕

had happened and what he had done. Five minutes later, it was on its way again. The police had also contacted the outward-bound centre where the two boys were staying and one of the teachers had come to collect Ryan. From the glum expression on the teenager’s face as he got into the car, Daniel guessed that he wasn’t expecting much of a welcome when he got back.

‘That’s it, folks. Let’s just hope the lad will be all right, eh?’

Mike voiced everyone’s opinion as they headed over to the vehicles. A couple of the reserve team had driven over to collect them and Daniel had to admit that it was a relief not to have to walk all the way back to town. Now that the adrenalin rush was dying down, he felt too cold and stiff to welcome the thought of a long walk home.

He slid into the back of one of the vehicles, moving over when Emma got in beside him. Another member of the team climbed in beside her so it was a bit of a squash. Daniel held himself rigid as they set off but it was impossible to avoid touching her as they swung around the bends.

‘Sorry,’ he murmured when once again he found himself cannoning into her.

‘That’s OK.’

She gave him a tight little smile then stared straight ahead, making it clear that she wasn’t keen to start a conversation. He wasn’t either, mainly because he didn’t want anything he said to be misconstrued. He sighed wearily. When had life become so complicated that he had to watch every word he said?

Emma couldn’t wait to get home. Sitting beside Daniel was sheer torture. Every time they rounded a bend, his shoulder brushed hers or his thigh pressed against her thigh and she didn’t appreciate the feelings it aroused inside her. It was a relief when the car drew up outside the house.

Daniel got out and offered her his hand but she pretended not to see it. Sliding across the seat, she got out and thanked the driver. The car drove away with a toot of its horn, its taillights rapidly disappearing into the darkness. Emma headed towards the front door, feeling her tension mounting when she heard Daniel’s footsteps crunching on the gravel behind her. All of a sudden she was achingly aware of the fact that there were just the two of them. She would have given anything to open the door and find Aunt Margaret at home but it wasn’t going to happen so she had to make the best of things. Unlocking the front door, she summoned a smile.

‘I’ll put the kettle on while you get out of those wet clothes. Do you prefer tea or coffee?’

‘Coffee, please.’ Daniel grimaced as he stepped into the hall. ‘I’m soaking. I’d better take my clothes off here rather than drip water all through the house.’

He shed the foil blanket then dragged his sodden sweater over his head. Emma just caught a glimpse of a broad, muscled chest before she hastily turned away.

‘I’ll get the coffee on,’ she murmured, hurrying along the hall as though the hounds of hell were snapping at her heels. She filled the kettle then took off her wet coat and carried it through to the back porch so it could drip. When she chanced a wary glance along the hall there was no sign of Daniel, just a heap of sodden clothing lying neatly on the mat.

She ran upstairs to her room and changed into dry jeans then went back down and gathered up Daniel’s clothing to take it through to the kitchen, putting his sweater and jeans straight into the washer. His boots were soaked so she stuffed them with newspaper and left them in the corner to dry. By the time she’d done all that, he reappeared, shaking his head as he came into the kitchen.

‘You shouldn’t have cleared up after me, Emma. I’d have done it myself.’

‘It wasn’t a problem,’ she said lightly, not wanting him to attach any significance to her actions. She had done it purely because she liked order in her life, not because she’d wanted to help him, she assured herself. She headed towards the kettle then stopped when he waved her aside.

‘I’ll make the coffee. It’s the least I can do.’

Emma opened her mouth then hurriedly shut it again. Arguing about who should make the coffee would be extremely childish. Walking over to the cupboard, she lifted out the biscuit tin and set it on the table. When Daniel brought over the tray, he looked hopefully at her.

‘I hope there’s some chocolate biscuits in there.

There’s nothing like comfort food when you’re feeling cold and miserable.’

‘There should be.’ Emma took the lid off the tin and nodded. ‘You’re in luck. There’s a new packet of chocolate digestives—your favourites.’

‘So you remember which biscuits I like?’ His tone was even but she felt the blood rush up her face when she realised how revealing that had been. If she had erased him from her life then why on earth would she remember his taste in food?

‘Yes,’ she said firmly, knowing there was no point lying. She looked him straight in the eyes. ‘I’m hardly likely to forget, bearing in mind the amount of biscuits you consumed when you worked here.’

‘Hmm, I suppose not.’ He grinned. ‘I could claim that I’m a reformed character and only eat them in exceptional circumstances but that would be cutting off my nose to spite my face.’ He helped himself to a biscuit. ‘All I can say is that it’s my only vice, or the only one I’m willing to admit to!’

He chuckled as he bit into the biscuit and Emma felt a little flurry of heat run through her veins. She had forgotten how endearing he could be when he was poking fun at himself.

The thought troubled her and she picked up the pot, quickly pouring coffee into two mugs. She didn’t want to think about Daniel’s good points,