Tina opened the door and stepped inside. While she was undressing, she heard Holyoake talking to someone on his phone in the lounge. She washed her hands and went to her study. She assumed he'd stop by when his conversation was over. She tried to work for two hours, but neither Holyoake, nor any progress appeared.

She texted Liv, and sat in front of the laptop, her forehead on her desk, until the Skype started trilling.

"What's the matter?" the brunette asked sharply.

"Hello to you too, Liv," Tina mumbled, without lifting her head.

"Tina," Liv said in a demanding one. "What's wrong? You never call, and it's Christmas. Something's wrong."

"I can't write. At all. I think I'm done for. No more Evelyn Cox."

Liv burst into melodic laughter.

"Oh my god, I thought something actually happened. You're so silly, Tina!"

Tina looked up and saw the agent toss her gorgeous black locks over her shoulder. The woman was surreally beautiful, like some Elvish princess or something.

"Oh c'mon now, Tina, what's wrong?" she asked softly.

"I can't write," Tina repeated. "At all. There are no words, no plot. I just sit and stare at the screen." Thinking about licking John Holyoake's neck - but that's beside the point.

"Have you eaten?" Liv asked patiently.

"It's not just today! I wouldn't be calling if I couldn't concentrate for one morning! I'm telling you, Liv, I lost it!"

"Alright, alright." The woman gave Tina a slightly condescending look. "What happened? Has something changed in your life? Is there something new? Did you get upset about something?"

All of the above? Two men happened, and she's upset– about one of them? Both of them? Them not being one man? Them being in her life at all? Who bloody knows.

"I can't– I don't want to talk about it," Tina grumbled. "I just–"

"Tina, you're starting to freak me out! Are you ill?! Has something happened? Did someone hurt you?"

"No, no! Nothing that serious!"

Now she felt stupid. Because nothing even remotely disastrous happened, and she was whinging.

Except she couldn't write!

"Well, there is this bloke–" Tina whispered.

"Oh my god, a man?!" Liv hollered, and Tina shushed her. Which only led to the agent screaming on top of her lungs, "What?! You're shushing me, Tina! Is he– there?! There's a man in your cottage!"

"Shut it, Liv!" Tina hissed again. "Yes, yes, there's a man in my cottage, but that's not what you think! And it has nothing to do with me not writing!"

Maybe. Most likely it actually does. Whom are you joshing, Tina? You can't write because of Holyoake. No matter what's between you two, whether you shag or not, argue or flirt. The man's arsed up your noggin.

"Like hell it doesn't!" Liv barked. "For seven years you write two thousand words a day, and then all of a sudden 'I'm done for' - and I'm supposed to believe it's a coincidence! So, what's the problem?" the brunette said in a business like tone. "C'mon, Tina, I'm used to this. You writers constantly screw up when there's some romance crap going on. Men are so much worse, actually. When Barnett had this whole drama with Richards' wife, I thought that was the end of him. So?" Liv gave Tina a stern look. "What is it? Is he married? C'mon, tell me everything. We'll solve it, and you can go back to normal. I have a great lawyer if he needs divorce. We can send your two to some resort for lots of alone time. Or, is he bad in bed? I know an excellent shrink–"

"Blimey, Liv, you're so American," Tina couldn't help but giggle.

"I'm a professional, Tina. My job is to solve your problems, quickly and efficiently, and ensure the flow of your bestsellers. So? What's the problem?"

Tina opened her mouth - and froze like that. What exactly was her problem, she suddenly asked herself.

"I don't know," she finally said and sighed. "I don't know, Liv."

"OK, give me all the details, and I'll figure it out myself," the brunette said. "You know how–"

And then she stopped, with her mouth open - because Tina's door had just opened.

"Do you want tea?" Holyoake asked Tina in a grumpy voice, and then he looked at the screen. "Evening, Liv."

"Wait– what?!" the brunette shouted and pointed into her camera. "You?! You! No freaking way, Holyoake! What are you doing there?! Oh– Oh! What?! Tina, are you freaking crazy?!"

"Liv, it's not what you think!" Tina protested.

"Are you crazy?! Sleeping with John freaking Holyoake?!" Liv was now approaching the volume level of a two-tone horn. "And you! You, slimy, sleazy piece of–"

"Liv, it's not–" Tina tried again.

"You're trying to steal my best writer!" Liv poked the camera of her computer. "That's just not going to happen! And don't try to deny it. You know she's good. Better than all of yours put together. Except Richards," Liv conceded, and then went back to her accusatory shouting, "But she's better than him too!"

"She is," Holyoake deadpanned, and Tina who'd been cowardly pressing into her chair whipped her head and gawked at him.

It gave Liv a pause, but then she continued, "And you can't have her! Tina, don't listen to a word he's saying. No matter what he's promising–"

Suddenly, Tina felt entertained. She looked at Holyoake, who was listening to the raging brunette with a perfectly blasé face.

"Hm, I don't think you've ever promised me a single thing," Tina whispered.

"Last night I promised you that position would work on your vanity, and I was right," he answered just as quietly, without looking at her.

Tina croaked and giggled.

"I looked it up, it's called the Padlock," she whispered back. She saw a corner of his lips twitch. She turned to the laptop, "Liv, please, stop screaming! He's not here to steal me for his publishing house. We're just isolating together. John, could you please go make tea? You're making her mental," she said to him with a begging look.

"Sure," he said and walked to the door. "Bye, Liv," he threw over his shoulder.

Another stream of insults poured out of the laptop.

"Liv– Liv– Liv!" Tina had to raise her voice. The agent stopped shouting and was now breathing heavily. "Liv, I swear to God, it's not what you think."

"Really? So you aren't sleeping with John Holyoake and leaving me?"

"I'm not leaving you," Tina deadpanned.

Liv gave her a long studying look.

"His sister is my neighbour. There has been a misunderstanding, and now we have to isolate ourselves. There's just a few days left." A good, smooth half-truth. You're like a broken record, Tina. "And when I said there was a bloke, I didn't mean him actually." Oh, cunning! Diversion time! "There's this mycologist who lives in the village–" Tina started.

It took about half an hour to calm the agent down. After she was tasked with researching the mushrooms of the county - 'to help Tina to charm his pants off' - Liv finally agreed to let Tina go, but only after the latter swore to keep Liv posted regarding the 'Holyoake douchebag.' Tina hung up, closed the laptop, and carefully thumped her head to the desk a couple of times.

***

"Why did you do this?" she asked Holyoake and plopped on a kitchen chair. "I thought she was going to have an aneurysm."

"I didn't do anything." He got up and started making her tea. "I just stopped by to offer you a cuppa. How's your writing going?"

"It's not," Tina grumbled. "Why didn't you knock?"

"You told me before I could just come in," he said, frowning in confusion.

She had. 

"And you didn't hear that I was on Skype. Of course," Tina said with a chuckle and a shake of her head. "You're funny. One really doesn't need to tell you anything twice."

He tilted his head with a puzzled expression. She snorted and stretched her hand to him expecting a mug. He picked up her fingers and gave her hand a small shake. She laughed.

"I meant the tea," she said.

"I know," he said and pulled her up and into him.

Tine pressed her nose into his sternum and took a long deep breath. Oh, bliss. She wrapped her arms around him tightly and closed her eyes. He pushed his fingers in her hair on the back of her head, and she moaned in pleasure. If only everything were this simple.

"I think I should bake," she said quietly and rubbed her cheek to him.

Blimey, he smelled so nice.

"Bake what?"

"Anything," she said. "Baking always helps me put my noggin straight. I can bake you those jammy dodgers you asked for." She heard his low velvet chuckle in his chest. "Maybe my writing will kick in again," she said. "And if not, we'll get biscuits out of it."

"Sounds good to me," he murmured.

He cupped her jaw and lifted her face. She smiled at him, and he pressed a slow deep kiss to her lips.