Standing on tiptoes, Josie surveyed the room. ‘There’s a table over in the far corner. It’ll be a squish, but it’s either that or stand and be elbowed in the stomach every five seconds.’
‘You guys go grab it. I’ll get drinks.’ Callan pulled his wallet from his coat pocket.
‘Good one, mate. Beer for me, gin for my lady.’ Will slapped him on the back, took Lauren by the hand and braved the throng.
‘Thank you.’ Josie’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes sparkling. ‘You know what I like.’ Josie winked, then set off into the crowd.
Callan followed her progress as she weaved her way through, unsure what to make of the wink. Was it flirtatious? Or just friendly? Was he reading too much into her ‘you know what I like’ comment? Were her flushed cheeks and glittering eyes really caused by heat and happiness, or something else?
And how was it possible to go, in a blink of a second – or a wink of an eye – from being a man in your early thirties to feeling like an awkward teenage boy with a bit of a crush just because a pretty girl was being friendly to you?
He turned around and nodded to a pint-pulling Brendon, who dipped his chin in response, then held up his hand, fingers spread, letting him know that he’d be there in five minutes.
Callan checked the bar for more staff, but the help that Brendon got in for busy days like this was nowhere to be seen. Probably picking up glasses. Getting fresh ones from out back. Or rustling up something salty and greasy for the hungry hordes.
He pulled out his mobile and went to text Lauren’s mum, Bridget, to check on Mia. He still couldn’t believe that he’d just left her with a near stranger. Not that Bridget was a stranger to him. She was somewhat of a regular at the bakery. She had even kept on coming in a couple of times a week after he took over the baking and began producing his … well … stodge. But Mia didn’t know her all that well. What if she was frightened? Felt abandoned? Was scared?
His phone lit up with a message from Bridget. A picture of the two of them, each enjoying an ice cream with giant grins on their faces, put paid to his concerns.
‘She looks like she’s having a great time. Should I be worried that I’m no longer flavour of the month?’
Callan glanced up to see Margo standing opposite him, her eyes crinkled in amusement, staring at his phone.
‘Margo, you’re on the wrong side of the bar.’ His heart warmed as he realised the significance of what he was seeing. ‘Or, should I simply be saying … Margo, it’s good to see you in the bar.’
Margo spun round, then tugged on the shoulder straps of her black pinafore. ‘Suits me, doesn’t it?’
‘That it does. But it doesn’t explain why you’re over there and not on this side.’
‘Poor Brendon.’ Margo inhaled a deep breath, her eyes filling with sympathy. ‘I popped in earlier today to say hello and he was hunched over the bar, head in hands, looking most sorry for himself. Turns out both people he’d had lined up to help tonight had cancelled. He was beside himself with worry, so I did what anyone would do, and offered my services. Beer?’ Margo grabbed a pint glass.
‘Two, please. And a gin and tonic, and a glass of merlot. Two bags of crisps too, please. Any flavour.’
‘Coming right up.’
Margo pulled the pints, then began putting together the rest of his order, leaving Callan to watch in awe – and not just a tiny bit of surprise.
He’d hoped after telling Margo that Brendon still held her in high esteem, despite her pushing him away all those years ago, that there was still a chance for them, should she still be interested – but he’d not expected her to grab that notion with both hands and run with it.
He blinked hard and fast as Brendon made his way down the bar, snaked his arm around Margo’s waist, pulled her close and whispered something in her ear that made her cheeks pinken and sent a girlish giggle dancing from her mouth.
‘She’s a lifesaver, this one.’ Brendon addressed Callan. ‘I’d have been a ruined man tonight if it weren’t for her.’
Margo set the rest of the order on a tray and Callan went to pass her his card.
‘On the house.’ Brendon waved his card away. ‘In fact, whatever you order tonight, it’s on me.’
Callan made to protest, but Margo shot him down with a stare that told him in no uncertain terms that he should take the kind offer and not question it.
‘Well, er, thank you.’ Callan picked up the tray and turned around. Then he turned back. ‘Margo …’ He waved her closer. ‘Did either of you happen to see the sunset tonight? Were you up on the hill?’
‘Us?’ Margo’s cheeks flamed bright once more, as her lips quirked. ‘Oh, no. Not us. We were far too busy for that.’
Callan didn’t wait for her to elaborate, and wasn’t about to ask. He had a feeling he knew exactly what was causing Brendon’s genial mood. Or who. And it had nothing to do with sunsets that brought a person’s hopes and dreams to life.
He weaved his way through the revellers and found Lauren, Will and Josie at the table Josie had spotted, which, apparently, only had two chairs. Lauren was settled on Will’s lap, which left one chair, which Josie was occupying.
He set the tray on the table and passed the drinks around. ‘On the house. As are all our drinks for tonight only, according to Brendon.’
Lauren’s mouth formed an ‘o’ as she clapped her hands together with excitement. ‘It’s the magic of the sunset. It’s happening. To one of us! Or maybe to Brendon?’
‘Not to Brendon. He was too busy here to watch the sunset.’ Callan didn’t go into further details. If Margo and Brendon were making a go of things, the last thing they needed was nosey villagers getting in the way.
‘Well, whichever one of us has gotten a night of free drinks bestowed upon us, I salute you.’ Will grabbed his beer and raised it high. ‘To lady luck. And those who find her.’
Callan hunkered down into a squat, not wanting to hover over the table, and the quartet clinked their glasses, and took long sips.
‘Oh my gosh, where are my manners?’ Josie set her glass down and sprung out of the seat. ‘Here, you take this. You’ve been running round after Mia all day, and you carried her down the hill, your legs must be buggered.’
‘Oh no. I couldn’t. You sit.’
‘I insist.’ Josie didn’t budge.
‘I insist more,’ Callan shot back.
A groan of impatience came from Lauren. ‘And I insist you compromise. Callan, sit on the seat. Josie, sit on his lap. If his lap’s too close for comfort, then make use of his knees. Just … sit … both of you. Or I’ll take my free drink and throw it over you. Then I’ll take Will’s free drink and do the same.’
‘Oh no you won’t.’ Will tickled Lauren’s waist, causing her to nearly spill her drink anyway. ‘I like my free drinks in my stomach, not soaking into clothes and carpet.’
Josie folded her arms, her brow crinkled in indecision. ‘Wouldn’t it be weird?’
Callan wasn’t sure if she was asking him or talking to herself. What he did know was that they couldn’t just stand about awkwardly for the rest of the night.
‘Not weird. Not when we’re just making do.’ He sat himself on the chair and angled the length of his thighs so there was plenty of clear space for her to sit in whichever way felt most comfortable and least weird.
‘Making do,’ she murmured, then settled herself gingerly, not quite on his knees, nowhere near his nether regions, more smack bang in the middle. She twisted round to face him. ‘You okay? I’m not cutting off the circulation to your legs?’
Callan jiggled her up and down, similar to the way he did Mia when they played horsey. ‘You’re light as a feather.’
‘And you’re too kind. Also a bit of a liar.’
The dry reply saw Lauren and Will raise their glasses with a laugh.
‘Cheers to you two finally getting it together,’ Will rolled his eyes, then downed half his beer in one go. ‘So, who’s getting the next free round?’
>
***
Callan held his ribs, laughing long and hard for what must have been the thousandth time that night, as Will demonstrated the Irish dancing he’d learned as a boy. Forced into it by his mother in the hopes it would tire the boisterous lad out, he’d demonstrated quite the talent, and had at one point been offered a job with a dance company that toured the world, only turning it down because he’d met Lauren, and deigned her the true love of his life. Dumping dancing like it was yesterday’s news and throwing his excess energy into farming by day and wooing by night.
‘Brilliant. Amazing.’ Callan gasped. ‘I can’t believe I’m only seeing this now.’
‘Blame the beer.’ Lauren giggled as she pulled Will onto her lap and wrapped her arms possessively around him. ‘It’s the only time he’ll do it.’
‘I can’t believe you could have toured the world doing that.’ Josie sipped her glass of water and leaned back into Callan with a tired sigh.
Callan wasn’t sure who stiffened first at the unexpected closeness. Or who apologised first.
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry.’ Josie bolted upright, her face scarlet.
‘No. I am. Sorry. I mean. Very sorry.’ Callan raked his hand through his hair and tried to ignore the stiffening of another area of his body that had no place standing to attention. Even if he’d spent the night encouraging said area as he’d admired Josie’s sense of humour, her easy way with people, the soft curve of her cheek, the glossiness of her hair, the sweet aroma of sugar and vanilla that emanated from her …
‘Oh, for Pete’s sake.’ Lauren rolled her eyes. ‘What are you apologising for? Josie, you leaned back because you were feeling at ease, comfortable. Callan, you provided said comfort. It happens. It’s not like Josie straddled you and kissed you silly. Now that would be worth apologising for.’ Lauren waggled an unsteady finger at the two of them. ‘And not because there’s anything wrong with you two kissing. It’s more that we who’ve been together this side of ever are made to feel inadequate when young lust is thrust in our faces.’
Callan’s hand slid from his hair to cover his eyes. He didn’t know whether to laugh, cry or give Lauren a stern talking-to about inappropriate topics of conversation that were sure to embarrass the people who the conversation was directed at.
‘Will, I think it’s time we went home.’ Lauren laid her head against Will’s back. ‘Carry me, sweet man? I think the free drinks have rendered me a touch legless.’
Will stood, then wrapped one arm around her neck, tucked the other underneath her thighs, and heaved her up with a dramatic squinting of eyes and a loud grunt, which earned him an ear flick from Lauren.
‘Thanks for the fun night. Sorry about this one. Her tongue gets a touch loose after a few gins.’ He clenched his teeth in a grimace.
‘Never heard you complain about my loose tongue before,’ Lauren mumbled as she snuggled into his chest, her eyelids drooping more and more with every second that passed.
Callan watched them leave, while trying to figure out what to do, what to say next. Should he ask Josie if she wanted another drink? Invite her back to his for a night cap? Before any kind of invitation, should he apologise for Lauren and her straddling and kissing comments?
‘Right, well, I’ve got to get home. Early start tomorrow.’
He twisted round to see Josie rugged up in her outdoor clothing and already moving towards the door.
Questions answered. There’d be no ‘one for the road’. No nightcap. No need for an apology either as any hint of redness in Josie’s cheeks had subsided and her shoulders were no longer trying to touch the ceiling.
‘Wait up. I’ll walk you home.’
Callan grabbed his coat and scarf and stepped up his pace to catch up with Josie, waving a quick goodbye to Margo and Brendon who were sitting at the end of the bar, wide smiles on both of their faces as they chatted.
He pushed the closing door open and jogged the few steps until he reached Josie.
‘Didn’t you hear me say I’d walk you home?’
Josie continued her determined march forward. ‘I did. Sorry. I’ve just been hit with a wave of tiredness, and as you well know I do have work tomorrow, and, well, I just thought it was best if I headed home before …’ Her top teeth sunk into her lower lip, like she was censoring herself.
Callan shoved his hands in his coat pockets. Not because they were cold, but because he had an urge to take Josie by the hand, to stop her in the lane, to cup her face, and to kiss her … just to see what it would be like. To know if her lips were as soft as they looked. If the sweet scent that surrounded her extended to her lips. If the feelings that had been building all night – all night? More like for the last couple of weeks – were real, or just a figment of his imagination.
‘Before what, Josie?’ He ducked his head so he could see her face more clearly.
The hint of tension in the air thickened. The puffs of mist that had escaped Josie’s lips with each breath, stilled. Her eyes went to her feet, denying him any chance of seeing what was going through her mind.
He could make a joke, say something light-hearted, let the moment pass. That would be the safe thing to do. Yet he couldn’t. His tongue refused to leave the roof of his mouth.
This was not the time for words.
He reached out and tucked his fingertips under Josie’s chin, sensed the taut muscle of her jaw tighten further, as she lifted her gaze to meet his.
‘Before what?’ he whispered.
‘I didn’t want the villagers to get the wrong end of the stick. To think something was going on here. To cause you to be the subject of gossip.’
The words were right, but they came out forced. Fake. Like Josie didn’t believe what she was saying. Like she was saying what had to be said, to what? Keep the barriers up? Keep things professional?
‘The only way they could get the wrong end of any stick was if they sensed there was nothing going on between us.’ Callan held his breath as Josie’s lips parted, then closed.
Her eyes shut as she raised herself up on tiptoes.
This was it. They were going to kiss. His heartrate picked up. His fingers and toes tingled. Nerves sparked in his stomach.
He dipped his head lower. Pressed his lips together softly, puckered them just a little. Closed his eyes. And …
Jumped. He nearly leaped out of his skin, as a crack of lightning and rumble of thunder ripped through the sky, before torrential rain bucketed down, soaking through his coat in seconds.
Callan went to tell Josie to run for the bakery, but she was already five steps ahead of him. He followed her path, his hand searching his pocket for the keys, so they could get inside as quickly as possible.
A wild laugh caught him by surprise, and he realised it came from Josie who’d reached the front door and had her head tipped to the sky, that lit up a white-blue with frightening regularity.
He unlocked the door, pushed it open, took her by the hand and pulled her inside before she got struck by an errant bolt and got badly hurt, or worse.
The force of his touch saw her crash into him. Heat emanated from her, despite the frigidity of the night, the chill of the rain. Her eyes were alight, her smile wide and welcoming. Her cheekbones raised high in amusement and exhilaration.
Callan fingered a wet strand of hair that was plastered across her forehead and tucked it behind her ear. He traced the length of her face, from her forehead down, skirting the soft spot by her ear, before trailing the length of her jaw.
‘Please don’t play in thunderstorms, Josie.’ The depth of emotion in his voice, caught even himself by surprise.
He waited for her to push his hand away, to pull away. She remained in his arms, her gaze turning more serious by the second.
‘It’s just lightning and a bit of thunder, Callan.’ Her hand left his and snaked around his waist. ‘I was fine.’
‘But you might not have been. I didn’t want to risk losing you.’
Josie’s lips quirked. ‘Because t
he bakery needs a baker. You’d be lost without me.’ She made to roll her eyes, but they paused halfway, her attention drawn to the ceiling.
He tipped his head to see what she was seeing.
The mistletoe. Of course. Of all nights, tonight would see them caught underneath it. He wasn’t mad about it.
Her gaze met his. The quirk in her lips smoothed out.
‘Well, I guess rules are rules.’ Josie half-shrugged as her head angled a touch to the side.
‘And who are we to break them?’ Callan’s breath caught in his throat as his heartbeat picked up in anticipation.
Josie’s hand slipped under his coat and splayed across his lower back as it pulled him closer still. He imagined he could feel her heart thumping against his chest. As fast as his. Were her nerves stretched as taut? Was she worried it would be awkward like last time? That the spark between them would fizzle as fast as the storm outside, if the quietening of rumbles was anything to go by.
‘Stop thinking,’ Josie instructed. ‘I can almost hear your thoughts.’
Callan smiled as Josie’s lips touched his. Soft. Tentative. The simple brushing of lip on lip, skin on skin, sent an electrical storm far greater than the one that had raced over the village, through Callan’s veins.
He weaved his fingers through Josie’s hair, lightly so she had space to pull away should she want to, should she change her mind.
Josie’s lips pressed against his. Deeper. Hungrier. He parted his lips, wanting more, offering her entry. And she took it. Their tongues touched, tantalised. She tasted rich, dark, tangy, and oh so sweet.
Josie’s hand clutched his neck possessively as she moaned against him. The vibration heightened his need.
And another vibration, coming from his trouser pocket, doused it.
He stroked her cheek with his thumb as he reluctantly pulled away. ‘That’ll be Lauren’s mum wondering where I am. She probably heard the door shut.’
Josie’s eyes were heavy-lidded and happy as she cupped his cheeks, then trailed her fingers down to his chest, where she flattened her palms over his heart.
The Little Bakery of Hopes and Dreams Page 14