Tina sat on the chair, watching his muscles move under his tee when he was flipping his pancakes. Seven bestselling novels, featuring a rather fit DI. Years of research into male physique. Hundreds of romance novels read. And you didn't know a man can have a sexy back? Daft, daft Tina.

"You'll be cutting fruit," he said, and she jumped up.

"Sorry, what?"

"For the pancakes." He threw her a look over his shoulder, smirking lopsidedly. Cocky bastard. "These are American. No sugar, no lemon juice. Fruit and maple syrup."

"And do we have all that?" she asked.

And then the doorbell rang.

"Now we do," he said and put the pan aside, next to a plate with an already rather tall stack of pancakes. On his way out of the kitchen, he gave her another of his grins. "Don't eat all of it without me"

Tina bristled. Who takes the piss of a woman's eating habits? Maybe, some travel bloggers were confident enough to not take it personally - but no normal woman could.

"Mr. Tate will have a field day with all these groceries you're buying," she said waspishly.

"Your grocer's name is Mr. Tate?" His whole body shook in suppressed laughter.

"Sure, sure, get all your chips and mash jokes out of your system," she grumbled. "Also, you don't put maple syrup on American pancakes. It's sugar syrup and whipped cream that goes under the fruit."

"How do you know?" he asked.

Tina bit her tongue. 'My protagonist's estranged wife is American, and I always do my research' probably wasn't the cleverest answer in this situation.

"Must have read it somewhere," she said. She pointed at the door. "Mr. Tate awaits."

He shook his head in amusement and left. Tina threw a side glance at the pancakes. Honestly, Tina, you need to run. Every minute she spent in his company was another chance for her to slip and say too much. Are all these sweeties he's feeding you worth it? No, of course not, but if she's chewing, she can't say too much, right? She was brought up to chew with her mouth closed after all.

"Clementine, could you give me a hand, please?" he called from the hall.

Here was really no point in hiding from Mr. Tate and his helpers. Everyone in the village already knew about Holyoake lodging with her, she had no doubts about it. If not for the quarantine, it would have taken Mrs. Tiddles up to three days to 'accidentally' run into every person in Lower Woulds and share the information. These days she'd probably send out a group email - fast and efficient.

Tina grudgingly slid off the chair and plodded towards his voice.

"Morning, Mr. Tate," she muttered, giving in to her fate.

"Morning, Ms. Popplewell! Oh, good morning!" The jolly round shop owner was grinning from ear to ear, his gaze jumping from Tina to Holyoake - both dressed in their pyjamas. "How are you these days?" he asked, all of his face expressing that he thought she must be doing very well - and having much more fun than Tina did in reality.

He'd stepped back onto the pavement, while Holyoake was picking up three large bags from the threshold. One paper bag remained, and Tina stepped to it assuming it was for her.

The happy tune of John London's cover of Bring Me Love came from Holyoake's pocket. He put the bags down, and stuck his hand in the pocket of his bottoms.

"Here, could you pay please?" he muttered, swiping the screen with his thumb, while stretching his other hand with a card to Tina.

"I'll pay myself," Tina protested, but he wasn't listening and shoved it in her hand.

"Hello, hello," he greeted the person on the other line line. "How're you? I rang you up yesterday, but I reckon you were out."

Wow, that's a new tone! Last time when he'd been talking to his 'darling,' he had been all purry and flirty. This time it was pure and unadulterated affection that Tina could hear in his tone.

"What?" he suddenly barked, sharply turned around, and started marching inside. "Where is she now?" And then "What's Dr. Jenkins saying?"

That was a completely different voice!

"I'll pay online, Mr. Tate," Tina threw to Mr. Tate, who immediately started nodding and agreeing.

Tina didn't listen, she dragged the bags inside and closed the door.

Holyoake was sitting at the kitchen table, his phone pressed to his ear in one hand, the other hand clenched in a fist on the table. He was humming, intently listening to the person on the other end of the line. Tina brought two of the four bags in, but she couldn't lift the other two. Holyoake didn't seem to notice, and she felt she was intruding. She pressed the button on the Sage, starting coffee, and left.

She changed and brushed her teeth. She could hear him talk loudly in the kitchen, he sounded frustrated. Tina sighed. She properly craved caffeine, but barging in seemed wrong. She sighed again and went to her study.

A knock came to the door half an hour later. She opened the door, just a crack, trying to shield the inside of the room from him - but he didn't even look.

"I apologise. You must be hungry. And coffee's ready," he muttered, turned around, and went back to the kitchen.

Tina followed.

Nothing had been touched, neither the food, nor coffee. He came in and stopped in front of the table. She doubted he was actually looking at anything. His face was blank.

"Is everything alright?" she asked.

He didn't answer, and Tina softly touched his arm. He released a shaky breath and looked at her.

"Sorry, did you say something?"

"I asked if you were alright," she said.

"Yeah, yeah, it's just–" He blinked, his gaze focusing on her. "My Grandmother is in hospital."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Tina exclaimed.

"Yeah, she's 90. My brother was visiting, so he called me."

"Is it COVID?" Tina asked.

He nodded.

"She was running a fever, and Fred took her to the A&E in Abernathy General. She tested positive."

"Oh, I'm so, so sorry." Tina's voice broke. She rubbed his upper arm. "Let me make you coffee. Sit, sit. C'mon, you need coffee."

She gently pushed him to the chair, and he sat down heavily.

"How is she feeling now? What are her symptoms?" Tina asked, pouring his coffee.

"She's not in a critical condition. She's just... old." He rubbed his forehead with his hand. "They aren't anticipating any respiratory issues, but it's only been two days. Apparently, they aren't telling Fred much."

He took it black, so she put the mug in front of him.

"That's so scary," she said. "But it's a good thing your brother is there, right? I know they can't let him in with her, but at least he can bring her home as soon as possible."

"Yeah, it's just that she lost her husband last Christmas, and now this..." His voice sounded scratchy.

"Oh, I'm sorry about your grandfather!"

"He wasn't my grandfather. He was her fourth husband," Holyoake said, and Tina got momentarily distracted from the acute pity she felt for his Nana and him. He gave her a joyless smirk. "I know, I know. But she always said monogamy was dull."

Must run in the family, Tina thought, and then scolded herself for the judgement.

"Oh, you know what?" Tina exclaimed in a sudden realisation. "I know a surgeon in Abernathy General. He owes me a favour. I'll give him a ring, and he'll pull some strings there. Maybe we can find out more about your Nana."

She rushed to the door to the hall, when he suddenly caught her wrist. His long-fingered hand felt scorching.

"Clementine," he said quietly - and she froze and looked at him. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asked, confused.

"For... the coffee," he said and gave her a small smile. "And for being willing to cash in a favour from a surgeon for me."

"Well, if I can help, why wouldn't I?" she said.

He studied her face for a second, nodded, and she went upstairs to fetch her mobile.

When she'd first dialled the surgeon - from her bedroom - she had been properly firm about him keeping his gob shut about the nature of the favour. It was really big though, so he was more than happy to help her out now. The conversation with Dr. John Smith - and funnily enough, that was his real name - and then the doctors that he put Holyoake in contact with took about an hour. To Holyoake's and Tina's immense relief, his Nana was doing pretty well: her fever had dropped, the doctors had no concerns for her breathing, and they thought she'd be able to go home the next day.

While he was finishing a conversation, Tina wandered back into the kitchen. She hadn't had any coffee yet, and a headache was setting in. She pulled her mug from the cupboard and started rummaging in the fridge looking for the cream.

"Last year in January you were at Jack Richards' book launch," Holyoake announced behind her.

Tina praised herself for not hitting her head when she jumped up inside the fridge, and resurfaced. Bloody six feet five ninja. She turned and started pouring cream in her coffee, way too knackered to feel surprised by his statement.

"I think so," she said pensively after the first sip. "Why?"

He watched her drink her coffee for about five seconds, and then he shook his head.

"I'm starting to think," he said with a chuckle, "you really don't remember snogging me in that closet."