Rose couldn’t keep from sniggering as she watched Jack going over his coat inch by careful inch, removing the barbed burrs that clung to it. She’d pushed him into the bushes for a laugh, expecting Jack to respond in kind; he was always up for a bit of horsing around, but not this time.
“Lighten up, Jack; it’s just a coat.”
He glared at her over the garment. “Just a coat? It’s a genuine World War Two RAF officer’s greatcoat and it belonged to a hero who died serving his country. Have some respect. Besides, it makes me look dashing.”