Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 47254 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 236(@200wpm)___ 189(@250wpm)___ 158(@300wpm)
“You too. I—” I cleared my throat when my voice hitched like a prepubescent thirteen-year-old and tried again. “I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“This is home base for the month for me,” Scott replied. “I have a good team in London and Oxford, so I figured I’d take over here temporarily to test a few things out. I’m usually in the kitchen, so you probably would have missed me if Joanne hadn’t called in sick with the flu yesterday.”
“Oh. That’s…I hope she feels better.”
Scott nodded. “Trust me, I do too. Thankfully, Becca stepped in or I would have been up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“Or screwed, blued, and tattooed,” said someone who sounded like me.
This would have been a great time for a natural disaster diversion. Nothing crazy. A bolt of lightning, an alien invasion…
“That works too.” Scott snort-laughed and flashed that dazzling smile that had a funny effect of calming me and making me nervous at the same time. I hadn’t known that was possible. He leaned in slightly, continuing in a low voice for my ears only. “How’ve you been? Are you enjoying the UK?”
“I am, thank you.”
“Good.” Scott inclined his head toward the opposite end of the shop where Giles was chatting amicably with Becca and the couple who’d walked in after us. “He seems nice.”
“He is, but we’re just friends.” I wrinkled my nose and continued in a rush. “Not that you’d care if we were more than friends. You wouldn’t, but we’re not. We’re just…”
“Friends,” he finished for me.
“Right. Um…” I stared at his mouth for a beat, remembering that kiss. Be cool, Theo. Be cool. “Well, I love your shop. I didn’t expect a pop-up to look so complete. How does it work? Will you disassemble everything in a month?”
“That’s the idea. Tourism in this area is off the charts during the holidays. It’s slower now, but still good. If I could find reliable help, I’d be tempted to open something permanent here.” Scott held the box of pretty pastel cookies out for me to inspect. “How does this look?”
I peered into the box. “Beautiful, but that’s far too many.”
“No such thing as too many macarons.” Scott sealed the box with a gold-embossed sticker and tied a minty-green ribbon around it. “Next time, I’ll make sure to have fairy cakes.”
He was joking and I knew it, but that throwaway comment made the wheel in my brain spin so fast that the room went fuzzy for a moment.
Next time. Fairy cakes.
There wouldn’t be a next time and he didn’t make fairy cakes, so basically…this was good-bye. A real good-bye.
And I was blowing it so badly, it wasn’t even funny. I didn’t expect anything more to happen between us, but I didn’t want this to be his last impression of me.
Always end with a hand job, Theo.
Conversation and laughter blended into background static along with a sappy Ed Sheeran ballad. My mind buzzed with the same urgency it had when I’d invited him to follow me into a bathroom stall at the airport…Take a chance, be brave.
I leaned across the counter and stage-whispered, “Would you like to go out for coffee sometime?”
Scott narrowed his eyes, throwing off intimidating pirate vibes that were equal parts scary and arousing.
“Coffee?”
“Or…tea or crumpets or something English, like porridge. No, that sounds awful.” I tapped my hand on the counter and hiked my thumb toward the exit. “Look, I didn’t mean to make it weird by coming here. I was curious. I should have left well enough alone, but—well, um…my mom lives in Bradford-on-Avon. It’s one stop by train, so—”
“How about lunch?”
“Lunch,” I repeated.
He slid the box of macarons across the counter to me. “Yeah, lunch. Are you free tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow?” I repeated…again. This time, I sounded even more breathy if possible.
“I’ll be manning the shop in the morning. Becca is heading to London to feed her cats and oversee the kitchen. Joanne is sick and no one else is available to open, but…I’m free in the afternoon. I could meet you in Bradford after—”
“It’s a date!” I blurt-yelled and added, “Not a real date. Just an airplane acquaintance friend date.”
Scott quirked a swoony half smile. “Right. Give me your number.”
We exchanged contact info; then I grabbed my macarons and headed outside to wait for Giles—where I promptly melted against the wall with my mouth wide open.
I had a date.
Right?
I mean, if you asked someone for coffee and they upped it to a meal, that was code for “I’m interested.” Short-term interested, anyway. As in, maybe just lunch, which was fine by me.
Maybe we’d kiss again.
Or maybe he’d confess that he’d lied on the plane and that he was actually married with four kids and another on the way or wanted by the police in three countries and—
No, no. Scott wasn’t a scoundrel. Sure, he was slightly dangerous-looking with that thick beard and those piercing eyes, but I felt safe with him.