A Will, a Wish...a Proposal. Jessica Gilmore

back as he said it, instinctively heading for the safety of the large white house just visible at the top of the cliffs.

      He wasn’t here to flirt, and Ellie wasn’t giving off any signals that she might enjoy the kind of no-strings fun he’d be interested in. It was far better not to notice how her face lit up, not to notice the sparkle in the large eyes or the intriguing dimple in her cheek. Far, far better not to notice just how perfectly shaped her mouth was: not too large, not too small, but pretty damn near just right.

      ‘Come on,’ he said, bouncing on his heels. ‘I’ll race you back to the road. Loser buys the winner a pint. Ready? Go!’

       CHAPTER FOUR

      ‘THAT WASN’T FAIR. You had a head start.’ Ellie pulled the long, tangled mass of hair out of her face, twisting it into a loose knot. Her heart was thumping from the unaccustomed exercise. She’d thought she was fitter than that, although she couldn’t remember the last time she had run at full pelt, aware of nothing but her legs pumping, her heart beating fit to burst, the wind biting at her ears.

      ‘If you’re going to be a sore loser...’

      Max looked annoyingly at ease, leaning on the railing and waiting for her, his cheeks unflushed, his chest not heaving for breath. Unlike hers.

      ‘No, no, I concede. I’m not sure I’d have won even with a head start. Next time I pick the competition. Speed-reading, maybe.’

      She stepped onto the causeway to join him, but as she did so she heard her name called from someone behind her and twisted round to see who it was. It wasn’t often she found herself hailed in such a friendly way.

      A group of wetsuit-clad surfers had left the sea and were making their way up the beach, boards tucked under their arms.

      ‘Ellie, wait!’

      She turned to meet them, all too aware of Max behind her. The surfers were all locals. Some were born and bred, and some were incomers like Ellie, lured to Trengarth by the sea, the scenery and the pace of life. Ellie often forgot just how many people her own age lived in the village, many working at The Boat House café or the hotel of the same name, others owning businesses they ran from their homes. The group in front of her included a talented chef, a website designer and an architect.

      ‘Hi...’ She wasn’t sure why she was so self-conscious as she called back, but the heat in her cheeks wasn’t completely down to her recent exercise.

      ‘Are you coming to the quiz tonight?’ asked Sam, the architect, as he jogged ahead of his friends to join her. ‘We would never have won last week without you.’