The Bed and Breakfast on the Beach: A gorgeous feel-good read from the bestselling author of One Day in December. Kat French

the salad ingredients already in her trolley.

      ‘Spanakopita. It’s spinach pie.’

      Frankie would approve of that.

      ‘Keftethes. Meatballs. Tell your vegetarian to steer clear.’

      ‘I think she could work that much out for herself,’ Winnie said. The balls were huge and clearly strictly for carnivores.

      Jesse added a tub of tzatziki and slices of locally cured ham, before moving over to the bakery to order a bag of fresh triangles of pita straight from the ovens.

      ‘Dinner,’ he said, waving his hand grandly over the trolley as if he’d been out and hunted the meat himself.

      ‘Thank you.’

      They wandered back towards the tills, and once there he automatically unloaded and packed her shopping into brown paper carriers without her needing to ask as she carefully counted out the unfamiliar money. It was a moment of simple harmony, and she had the grace to thank him as they left the store and filled the boot of his Golf with her shopping bags.

      ‘Do you need to go straight back?’ he asked as she slipped into the passenger seat.

      She looked at him for a long moment, wondering what he had in mind. ‘I don’t think it matters too much. Why?’

      He winked at her before sliding his glasses over his eyes and gunning the engine.

      ‘In that case I’ll show you something special.’

      He threw his arm across the back of her seat to glance over his shoulder and reverse in that sexy way that only men on movies ever truly do, and Winnie tried not to notice the inadvertent graze of his fingertips against the back of her neck as they left the supermarket behind them in the distance and drove up into the hills.

      Reaching across Winnie’s knees to grab a bottle of chilled water from the glove box, Jesse tried not to notice the fact that she smelled like fresh flowers or that her skin was so double-cream pale against his own sun-weathered arm.

      ‘Come on, it’s up on foot from here.’

      ‘What is?’

      Winnie slammed her door and gazed around the deserted hillside.

      He didn’t explain, just headed towards a dusty track leading up through the pine trees. ‘This way. It’s not far.’

      Following the familiar route, he turned back after a few minutes. ‘Watch your footing here, the grit can be a bit loose underfoot.’

      On cue, Winnie’s foot slid sideways, and he held out his hand to steady her.

      ‘OK?’ he said, holding on to her fingers.

      ‘Think so.’ She half laughed, gripping him.

      ‘We’re nearly at the top,’ he said, keeping hold of her hand to help her take the last few steepest strides. He resolutely ignored the warmth of her fingers, and the way the exertion made her breasts rise and fall beneath her pink T-shirt. Jesus, did they not make it in her size? It looked as if it had been designed for a twelve-year-old and inadvertently found itself wrapped around the curves and hollows of a fully formed woman.

      They reached the summit with a final tug, and he gave her a few seconds to get her breath back and appreciate why the hike was worth the effort.

      ‘Wow,’ she murmured, her hands on her hips as she looked down.

      ‘This is the highest point of the island,’ he explained, leading her across to a bench that had been placed there to take advantage of the stunning views. They’d crested the hill into a clearing, and from there there was a direct, panoramic view down across the island and the Mediterranean. Skelidos lay before them, a patchwork of fields and forests snaked through with twisting roads, a smattering of houses closer to the coast, jewel-green vegetation against impossibly periwinkle skies and vivid turquoise waters.