‘That’s reasonable—though, actually, running in the rain is great. Dog or cat?’
‘Dog,’ she said. ‘But, like you, I don’t want to leave a dog cooped up alone in my flat all day. So I make the most of it when I go to see my parents—they’ve got Border terriers.’
He continued scrolling through the list of questions. ‘Some of these definitely sound more like the sort of thing you’d ask in a job interview. Why would you ask someone if they have a five-year plan?’
‘Because you want to know if they’re ambitious and would put their career before your relationship; or find out if they’re the kind of person who drifts along and gets stuck in a bit of a rut,’ she suggested.
‘Which in turn probably means your relationship will end up in a rut, too.’ He rolled his eyes. ‘There have to be easier ways of getting to know what a person’s like.’
‘In the space of three minutes, or however long it is you have on a speed date? I don’t think you have a choice but to ask intrusive questions,’ she said.
‘I give up on the list. What sort of thing would you ask?’
‘About their interests,’ she said. ‘Dating someone who wanted to spend their whole weekend playing sport or watching sport would be pretty wearing.’
‘Yes, because when would you get time to do other things together?’ he agreed.
‘In the evenings, maybe—something like the cinema?’ she suggested.
‘I haven’t been to the cinema in way too long,’ he said. ‘I tend to end up waiting for things to come out on DVD, and even then I haven’t caught up with all the latest releases, and I’ve got a pile of stuff I’ve been meaning to see and haven’t had time for.’
‘So why don’t you go to the cinema?’ she asked. ‘Because you like the kind of things that nobody else does, so you’d have to go on your own?’
‘Art-house movies in a foreign language?’ he asked. ‘No, it’s more that my duty roster tends to get in the way and everyone’s already seen the film before I get a chance. I like the big sci-fi blockbusters.’
‘Ah. Now I have a question for you. Team Cap or Team Iron Man?’ she asked.
‘Team Cap,’ he said promptly, and she gave him a high five.
‘So you like the same kind of films as I do?’ he asked.
‘Yup. I do like romcoms as well, but I’ve always been a sci-fi geek. And I bought myself the one that came out last week as an early Christmas present. I know it’s not strictly a Christmas movie, but maybe we could watch it tonight.’
‘And we can pause it if Hope needs a nappy change or a feed. Great idea.’ He smiled at her. ‘So we like the same kind of films and music. How about TV?’
‘Cop dramas,’ she said. ‘That’s my guilty pleasure. All the Scandinavian noir stuff.’
‘Again, I have to watch them on catch-up half the time, but me too,’ he said.
‘Right. Crosswords or number puzzles?’
He groaned. ‘Neither. I’m assuming that you’d go for the maths problems?’
‘Absolutely.’ She smiled. ‘Reading—fiction or non-fiction?’
‘Non-fiction,’ he said promptly, ‘and it’s usually medical journals. You?’
‘Crime fiction,’ she said. ‘I guess it’s because I like trying to solve the puzzles.’
‘Beach holiday or climbing a mountain?’ he asked.
‘Neither—city break or road trip for me,’ she said. ‘I like exploring new places and seeing the sights. You?’
‘I like the sound of the road trip,’ he said. ‘I’d love to see New England in the fall. And the hot springs and waterfalls at Yosemite.’
‘I’d guessed you’d be bored on a beach, but you strike me as a mountain-climbing type,’ she said.
‘Not so much mountains,’ he said, ‘but I did do the coast-to-coast walk for charity, one year, and I loved every second of it—even the blisters.’
‘I’m afraid the best I’ve done in the charity stakes is to make cakes and sponsor friends who do the ten-K runs,’ Amy said.
‘The main thing is that the money’s raised. It doesn’t matter who does what,’ he said.
Just as Amy finished prepping dinner, Hope woke.
‘Well, hello, Munchkin,’ he said, and scooped the baby out of her Moses basket. ‘So it’s Uncle Joshy’s turn to feed you.’
‘I’ll bring the milk in,’ Amy said.
When she took the warmed milk in, Josh was sitting on the sofa, talking to the baby in a low voice and letting her wrap her tiny fist round his little finger. The sight put a lump in her throat. Josh was so warm and kind. He’d make a fabulous father one day—but that made him off limits for her, so she’d have to ignore the attraction she felt towards him. If he wanted children, she couldn’t take his future away from him like that. And, given the way he was acting with the baby right now, she was pretty sure he’d want a family of his own one day.
* * *
Josh took the bottle of milk from Amy. ‘Thanks.’
‘No problem.’
Hope closed her eyes in bliss as she drank the milk. And it was strange how natural this felt, having a warm little weight in the crook of his arm. In another life, this could’ve been his baby...
He glanced at Amy. For all his scorn about the speed-dating questions, they had at least established that they had quite a few interests in common. And the more he got to know her, the more he liked her. It had been a while since he’d met someone he felt he could really be himself with.
‘Hey. Smile,’ she said, and held up her camera.
‘For Hope’s book?’
‘You bet.’
‘Then I ought to be sitting with the Christmas tree behind me.’ He stood up, without disturbing Hope or stopping her drinking her milk, and moved so Amy could take a more Christmassy photo of them together. ‘I’ll take one of you with her later, too.’
‘Thanks.’
She laid the table while he fed the baby. ‘Sorry, it’s not going to be a proper Christmas dinner, and I don’t have any crackers or party hats—but I do have a Christmas scented candle.’
‘Sounds good. Anything I can do to help?’
‘You already are,’ she said. ‘And you’ve been at work all day. Just chill with the baby.’
This really, really felt like being part of a new little family.
Josh knew he was going to have to keep a tight grip on his imagination, because that so wasn’t happening. Yes, he found Amy attractive; but the last thing he wanted to do was to have a fling with her and then for it all to go wrong and make things awkward if he bumped into her in the lobby or the corridor. They needed to keep things strictly platonic, he reminded himself.
And that was what stopped him going to chat to her in the kitchen again when the baby had finished her feed and he’d burped her.
Though sitting there watching the baby fall asleep made his fingers itch to sketch her. When he wrote all the details of the feed down in Amy’s notebook, he couldn’t resist flicking to the very back of the book. It didn’t matter that the paper was lined and he was using a pen rather than a pencil; he gave into the urge