Free Summer at the Lake by Erica James Page A

something.
    He swung round so quickly she thought he might hit her and make a run for it. But he hit her with an awkward smile instead and said, ‘Oh hell, I don’t suppose you could let me off, could you? I mean, it’s just a mousetrap. Seventy-five pence worth of wood with a bit of metal is hardly going to make a difference, is it?’
    ‘Of course it makes a difference!’ she said indignantly.
    He shrugged. ‘What do you care, you only work here, don’t you?’
    ‘This is my dad’s shop,’ she said, ‘which means I care lots.’ She held out her hand. ‘So stop kidding yourself you’re Robin Hood or Dick Turpin and give me back the mousetrap.’
    He lowered his gaze and looked quizzically at the open palm of her hand, in a way that suddenly made her feel very foolish. ‘See here,’ he said, pointing with a finger, ‘that line there shows you have a strong spirit and that you’re not easily manipulated by others.’
    Furious, she snatched her hand away. ‘Don’t change the subject. Just give me back the mousetrap or . . .’ Her words trailed off and she floundered. Just what would she do?
    ‘Or what?’ he asked. He didn’t sound like he was challenging her, merely as if he was trying to be helpful. Which made her feel a hundred times more foolish.
    ‘Or I’ll call the police!’ she blurted out, knowing that her face was now the same colour as the red polo shirt Day & Son employees wore. Worse still, she wasn’t just mimicking her overbearing sister, she was turning into Ann!
    He took a step back and stared at her. ‘Bloody hell, you’re serious, aren’t you? You really would call the police, and over something as stupid as a shitty bit of wood and a spring.’
    ‘It’s you who’s put yourself in this situation,’ she said, her indignation fizzling out. ‘All I’m doing is giving you the choice to do the right thing.’
    ‘And do you always do the right thing?’ he asked. There was mockery in his eyes.
    Her indignation spluttered back into life again. But only because he’d hit home so closely, because more often than not if there was a simple choice between doing the right thing and doing the wrong thing, Floriana could make the choice that would get her into hot water. She saw it as being individual, not wanting to be a sheep, one of the boring crowd, but her teachers saw it differently and called her stubborn and rebellious. She had once been sent to the head for being rude to a teacher, something she hotly denied; all she’d done was correct his spelling. I mean, come on, an English teacher who couldn’t spell?
    ‘Right,’ she said decisively, grabbing hold of the boy’s arm, ‘you’re coming with me.’
    Except he didn’t budge, being much taller than her there was no chance of her dragging him back inside the shop. To her further annoyance, he laughed. ‘What’s this, a citizen’s arrest?’
    Cross that he was laughing at her, she let go of him. ‘Oh, sod you!’ she said, wishing she’d never got involved. Why couldn’t she have been working in another part of the shop when he’d come in to help himself?
    A moment passed, during which neither of them seemed to know what to say next. Finally he broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘Look, have it back if it means so much to you.’ He pushed the mousetrap into her hands.
    ‘You could just pay for it,’ she said, ‘as you pointed out yourself, seventy-five pence isn’t that big a deal.’
    ‘Yeah, well, it is if you don’t have any money.’
    His reply surprised her; from the second he’d opened his mouth, he had looked and sounded exactly the sort to have plenty of money, if not in his own pocket then certainly in that of his parents’.
    ‘What do you want a mousetrap for?’ she asked, as he started to walk away from her.
    Twisting his head round, he looked at her as if she was a complete idiot. ‘Why does anyone want a mousetrap? To catch mice, of course.’
    She watched him go off down the