She was enjoying her coffee already when he came in.

"Morning."

Oh, this rumble? That's a purr. Like a tiger. And what's the most curious, you've noticed, Viola. He leaned in and kissed her cheek. She quickly lifted her hand, cupped his jaw - he froze under her touch - and kissed his cheek as well. He gave her a surprised look, but didn't say anything.

"Morning," she greeted him back and picked up her cup with both her hands. It's like her palm can still feel the harsh whiskers of his beard.

He took off his jacket and sat down. He gave Miss Rosa a nod, answering some sort of a mouthed question from her, and Viola assumed he had a usual order here.

"How are you this morning?" he asked, giving her a small smile.

"I'm feeling–" She chuckled. "Festive. It's just so odd not to work. And everyone wanders the streets. And there are all the lights and stalls, and–" She shook her head in amusement. "I don't know, I supposed I caught the Festival bug."

He lifted his left eyebrow and smirked.

"If it gets me a breakfast with you," he said with a shrug, "bring it on."

"Where are my flowers, by the way?" she asked teasingly and sipped her coffee. "I thought you were picking them up."

"I sent them to your place."

Miss Rosa put a large mug of coffee in front of him, smiled at them both, and left.

"But they'll freeze," Viola said. "There's no one in the surgery to receive them."

"Fenton's there," Rhys dismissed, tore open three sticks of demerara sugar at once, and shook them into his coffee.

"No, he's not. He's probably in the Square as well," she said. "He said there were never any patients during the Festival days."

"Fenton doesn't do Festival," Rhys said.

"He's coming to the Dance," Viola drew out, and Rhys froze with his coffee lifted to his lips.

"Does he now?"

Now, that's not a purr. That's a - silly and utterly fake - growl. He took a sip, keeping their eyes locked. Viola batted her lashes in an innocent look. She could obviously question this odd mood of hers - like she'd had too much bubbly - but on the other hand, she wasn't doing anything wrong! She needed to remember that if something felt good, she tended to immediately default into restricting, that was just the nature of her disorder. Flirting with him felt good - like having a spoonful of Miss Rosa's famous Pavlova. Repeat after me, Viola, you're allowed to have pudding - and to enjoy it.

Miss Rosa was back - with a plate of bangers and mash, with steamed vegetables on the side.

"More coffee for you, Viola?"

"Yes, please," Viola said - and added, "and a slice of your plum galette, please."

Both Miss Rosa and Rhys gave her a shocked look. When Miss Rosa was gone, Viola finished her coffee, watching Rhys send the first forkful of his mash into his mouth.

"Should I call Mrs. Tomlin and cancel the delivery?" he asked. "Since your Fenton might be away."

"Why is he 'my Fenton' all of a sudden?" Viola asked with a laugh, knowing the answer perfectly well.

Rhys once again gave her a cocked eyebrow look. "Because I'm pretty sure he'd bought a Golden ticket to the Dance."

"Two actually," Viola said and gestured 'bunny ears' in the air with her right hand. She then hid behind her coffee mug, only to discover it was empty.

"I see I'm going to need to up my game," he said, and she giggled.

"You don't dance anyway," she said.

"It's not about dancing. It's about not letting your other fellows dance with you."

"Someone's a brute and a barbarian," Viola muttered.

His fork hovered an inch away from his lips, and Viola snorted. And then the door to Miss Rosa's opened, the bell above it jingled melodically, and Viola stared at Fenton, who stood on the threshold, his eyes on Viola, a flabbergasted expression on his face - and a bouquet in his hands.

First, she assumed Rhys' flowers had gotten delivered, and Fenton, for some inconceivable reason, decided to bring them to her here, since she'd told him she was grabbing breakfast at Miss Rosa's - and then she'd realised the doctor held a large bouquet of lilies in his hand. Viola hated lilies. She was allergic to the pollen, and even just their look repulsed her. There was no way Rhys would've forgotten about it.

Viola and Fenton stared at each other, and then he slowly shifted his gaze on Rhys, who noticed her expression and looked back over his shoulder.

At that moment Miss Rosa showed up from around the counter with Viola's galette.

"Meu Deus!" Miss Rosa exclaimed.

Now everyone's eyes were on Fenton. Viola was frozen mortified - and then the doctor stepped to Miss Rosa and the bouquet travelled into her hands, her face aghast.

"That's a thank you," Fenton rasped out. "For all the lovely meals you cook for us."

And then he turned around and marched out of the tearooms. Miss Rosa opened her mouth, but he was already gone.

"That's so sweet!" someone said, and Viola dropped her eyes to the table, feeling blood rush away from her cheeks.

What were the chances that Rhys hadn't guessed what just happened? She peeked and saw his shoulders shake in a hysterical silent laughter, his eyes squinted, and his lips pressed in a desperate attempt to keep his guffaws under control. No chance at all, apparently.

And then the overwhelming realisation, of how awkward her work situation would now become, rolled over her, and she made a small distressed noise and squeezed her eyes shut.

"Did he just–" Rhys started.

"Yes," Viola groaned, without opening her eyes.

"Why?"

Viola sighed. The answer would be because she'd told Fenton she was grabbing breakfast at Miss Rosa's - which she never did - and because she'd said she wished he could've shown her all the best vendors, and mentioned they'd had their two dances ahead of them. To think of it, there was no surprise the poor doctor had misinterpreted Viola's frolicky behaviour - because Viola Holyoake was never, never frolicky. Except these days, she'd caught the Festival bug, and had asked her ex-husband out on a brekkie date, and had been as much as humming and dancing on her way out of the flat!

Viola opened her eyes and looked at said ex-husband's grinning face.

"You know what, don't tell me," he said with a throaty laugh. "It's none of my business. I'll just sit here and savour this memory."

"The memory of my spectacular humiliation?" Viola asked - and snorted.

Her first embarrassment was coming down, and she was starting to see the humour of this preposterous situation. Besides, Rhys would be the only one to know she even had a reason to be embarrassed - and she thought it was entirely possible that he wouldn't understand how she felt at the moment!

"Why yours? Fenton's," he said, confirming her suspicion. "Blimey, to walk onto the woman you're trying to chat up like that! The look on his face!"

"I was right," Viola said, broke off the edge of her galette, and shook it at Rhys. "You are a brute and a barbarian. Just look at your gleeful schadenfreude!"

"I don't know what that means," he said with another bark of jolly laughter. "But of course I'm enjoying it! That'll teach him to stay away from my–" He bit his tongue, and gave her a cheeky look.

"From your what?" she said and bit a tiny piece of the flaky pastry she held between her thumb and her index finger. "Do please finish that sentence."

She narrowed her eyes at him in a theatrical menacing expression. He stuffed a large chunk of broccoli in his mouth and chewed dramatically and hummed in his throat, clearly indicating he couldn't talk. Viola giggled and bit into the galette. The aroma flooded her senses, the tart and sweet flavours teasing her tongue, and she couldn't hold back a small groan. She'd forgotten what a heavenly treat Miss Rosa's baking was! She broke off another edge and bit into it with gusto. The pastry filled her mouth with just the perfect balance of salty and sweet and starchy tastes - and Viola chewed, swallowed, and licked her lips.

She looked up and met Rhys' - dark and tense - eyes. The hunger in them was impossible to misunderstand - and her cheeks flushed.

"You were right," he said in a low voice and pursed his lips.

"I'm always right," she said and bit into her bottom lip. "But do go on."

"If we'd gone to that date, all I'd be thinking about in that restaurant would be going back to my place. To my bedroom..." He was speaking quieter and quieter, and Viola unconsciously leaned in. Her blush had spilled onto her neck and collarbone now. "Watching you eat just makes me–"

Miss Rosa was back with the coffee carafe, and they jumped away from each other. Viola tucked a curl behind her ear and quickly picked up a slice of the plum filling onto her fork.

"How's the galette?" Miss Rosa asked, refilling their cups.

"It's delicious," Viola said, gathering her bearings. She gave the woman a warm smile. "It's very hard to seduce me into eating pudding, but it seems I can't say 'no' to yours."

"Good," Miss Rosa said with a nod and gave Viola a wink. "Everyone needs a bit of sugar in their life." She then threw Rhys a flirty smirk and left.

Viola chewed another mouthful and looked at Rhys. He was almost done with his plate. He seemed to have snapped out of his randy mood - and suddenly Viola realised she hadn't.

"Is it because I eat in front of others so rarely?" she asked.

He looked up, clearly rewinding their conversation in his mind to suss out what she was asking about - and she made sure to pull the fork from between her pursed lips extra slowly. He definitely noticed.

"No, it's because your mouth is so bloody sexy," he said, and a small smirk curled his lips. "You know, how much I fancy that upper lip of yours."

Viola didn't like her mouth. She'd been teased for it a lot as a child and a teen. Anatomically speaking, she had a very shallow inferior convexity between the paramedium peaks of the vermillion border of her upper lip. To put simply, she had almost no curve in her Cupid's bow, and it looked like she had a pouty, curled up upper lip, much fuller and wider than the bottom one. She'd been often asked if it was surgically enhanced, as well as that her mouth looked 'upside down.'

"I don't think you've ever told me that," she said, and he gawked at her.

"Seriously?"

He looked so sincerely shocked that her momentarily unease had vanished. She nodded and laughed softly.

"I always thought men don't pay attention to details in a woman's appearance. There are exceptions, of course," she said, picking up another piece of plum. "But isn't there a joke that most men appreciate a woman as a whole, and if they're interested in parts, they are probably a serial killer?"

"We do notice... parts," he said and chuckled. "I remember lots of your parts. I mean, I haven't seen some of them in ten years," he murmured, "but most of your parts are stark clear in my memory."

He tapped his index finger to his temple, and Viola laughed.

"Plus you walked on me basically in my lingerie the first day," she drew out.

"Ah yes, that lacy thing of yours," he said and shook his head. "Talk about a forceful reminder."

"I didn't know you had a key," Viola pointed out and took a sip of her coffee.

"Imagine my surprise," he said with a smirk. "I come to visit my ill Grandmother, and I see a fit bird, all her... parts on display," he said, and she gave him a sardonic look. "In a tasteful lingerie," he corrected himself with a chuckle. "But on display, nonetheless. And then I realise it's my ex-wife, and she's either gotten hotter with years, or I remembered wrong."

Viola snorted and tsk-tsked as if reproachfully. "You aren't supposed to comment on a woman's age."

"I'm not commenting on your age. I'm commenting on the fact that your arse can give a healthy male a heart attack."

"Barbarian," Viola murmured, and he grinned back.

"You know me, Vi, I say it as it is."

She looked down, shaking her head, and saw his large hand twitch on the table. He shifted it closer to hers, but then pulled it back. He wasn't sure where those 'boundaries' she'd insisted on were, she realised. She was amazed he even questioned touching her - but it felt good. She glanced up, and their eyes met. He gave her a small smile, some sort of an uncharacteristic shyness splashing in his blue irises - and she moved her hand to his and intertwined their fingers.

"What are you doing after breakfast?" she asked.

"I need to go back to the Meres," he said. "We're installing the supports for the light statues and the bonfire for Saturday night. And then there's the karaoke in the Oak and Shield tonight. Will you come?"

"I will," she said.

His hand was warm, she brushed her fingers between his, and slid her palm under his, stroking the callouses above his distal palmar crease.

"Yolanda said yesterday that you two were now into it," he said, sounding distracted.

"We are," she said, watching his somewhat dazed face. She moved her small caresses higher, onto the inside of his wrist now. "Karaoke has been my go-to divorce therapy, so as you can imagine, I've spent quite a lot of time in karaoke clubs."

She'd been right then, in his car. He'd never been that affected by her touch before - and that was considering how tactile he generally was! She saw him swallow, his throat bobbed, and she pulled her hand back, scraping her nails to his palm and along his fingers. He made a protesting noise, on instinct, his eyes clouded - and she flipped his hand and put hers into his palm firmly. His fingers immediately curled around hers tightly. He exhaled through rounded lips and gave her a look that was almost exasperated.

"By the end of this dating business with you, I'll need a pacemaker," he said in a hoarse voice.

"You'll be fine," Viola dismissed and picked up her cup with her left.

"Well, I trust your medical opinion," he said and lifted her hand.

His warm lips brushed at her knuckles, and then he rubbed his cheek - and beard - to the back of her hand. A small excited shiver danced down her spine, and she licked her bottom lip. It was all this nutty Festival madness of hers - but she just couldn't find a single objection to this shameless PDA in her mind!