‘Okay, I’ll see you to there, then.’
‘Thanks.’
They were still holding hands. She let go to open the latch of the wooden back gate and they entered the small courtyard area.
She felt in her jacket pocket for her key. Found it. ‘Well, that’s me.’
Stood face to face, on the stone flags of the little courtyard, with a dusting of stars and the pale-silver glow of the moon above them, Max took a step closer. Emma held her breath. There was a second or two as he looked at her with his gentle green eyes, then he tilted his head ever so slightly. Slowly, she mirrored his movement, her heart finally ruling her head.
Then his lips were on hers, warm and welcoming.
It was every bit as good as the last time, all those months ago, and now even more sensual as they closed the gap between them. She could feel his palms firm against her back.
It felt like a proper, old-fashioned, if slightly hot-and-sexy kiss goodnight. She could almost imagine she was a teenager, and her dad would be shouting out of a bedroom window above them any second that that was enough and it was time to come in.
Hmm, it was a toe-curlingly good kiss.
It finished all too soon.
‘Well …’ was all she could muster, as he pulled slowly away.
‘Night, Emma.’
‘Night.’ She couldn’t manage any more words, as her emotions were in a beautiful tumble.
He turned to go, stopped as he reached the gate. ‘I’ll ring you.’
‘Yes … do.’ And as he closed the gate behind him, she realised she was missing him a little bit already. She hadn’t felt like that in a very long time.
22
‘So, who is he then?’
‘Who?’
‘The hot guy you were spotted with last night? And, how come you haven’t mentioned a word of this, you dark horse, you?’
‘Hi, Bev. Right, well it all happened kind of fast!’
‘So, tell all.’ Bev sounded animated down the phone. ‘In fact, I’m coming around. Put the kettle on, hun.’
‘What? I’m in the middle of making salted caramels, and it’s only eight-thirty in the morning.’ News did travel fast around here and Emma wasn’t sure she wanted to talk about it at all. It had been preying on her mind all night. All she could do once she was back on her own was think of Luke. Surely, it was his touch, his kiss she was really missing, not this other guy’s? It was all so damned confusing.
‘Well, I’ll give you ten minutes to get them sorted, and you’ll probably be needing a breakfast break. Knowing you, you’ve been up since six and haven’t eaten a thing yet.’
She had been up early, and no she hadn’t eaten. Her mind had been spinning, and to top it all there hadn’t been a text or anything from Max as yet. The main part of her thoughts was it might be better if that never came, as it would save a lot of complications and stem this feeling of guilt, but the other crazy bit was frantically wanting to check her phone. He’d have got back to the B&B, gone straight to bed no doubt and been up for an early start to get to work, but she couldn’t help checking her phone, could she?
There was no saying no when Bev was in this kind of mood. ‘Fifteen minutes then – and how do you know he was hot anyway?’ That wasn’t the kind of word she could picture landlord Dave using.
‘My mum’s been into the café at Beadnell this morning for a coffee and toasted teacake. The woman behind the counter – Barbara, I think it is – spotted the pair of you last night.’
Ah, the woman at the bar. She’d thought she’d recognised her. No bloody secrets here, then. It was like living with the mafia. Mind you, she should have known better than to have arranged their first meet-up at the village pub. She might as well have strung Max up on a maypole in the centre of the village green, or a mast in the harbour.
‘Max. He’s called Max. I met him really briefly on the beach last Boxing Day when we were both out walking. Didn’t really expect to see him again. Then he just popped up at the shop, on Friday afternoon.’
‘And?’
‘Not much to tell, really. We went for a drink, that was it.’
‘Hah, there’s more to this, I know there is.’
‘He’s nice. I like him. There, does that satisfy you?’
‘Not really.’
There was no way Emma was going to mention the kiss. Two kisses, in fact, plus the little one on the cheek, not that she was counting.
‘He has my number.’
‘Aha!’ She heard a clap then a clatter, as though Bev had dropped the phone, then retrieved it. ‘That’s bloody amazing! The ice maiden has thawed.’
‘Ice maiden – is that what you call me?’
‘Oops, yeah, did that just slip out? Soz, Em.’
‘Thanks.’ But, it was a fairly accurate description as far as men were concerned lately. No point thawing for all the silly twats out there. ‘Well, then, that’s it. I’ve told you it all now,’ Emma continued.
‘No, you haven’t. I’m still coming over for that coffee. Get your cafetière out. I love that stuff you get from Berwick. With hot milk, please – perfect.’
‘Not very demanding, are you?’ But Emma was smiling as she spoke.
‘I just know what I like.’
‘Right, well, I need to get back to my caramel mix, before it spoils.’
‘Okay, I’ll see you soon.’
‘All right, then.’
‘I knew you’d see sense. Then you can tell me everything.’
Emma switched off her mobile, shaking her head with a smile. She then gently melted the caramel, adding the sea salt carefully – too much would spoil it, not enough and it wouldn’t have the right tang. She tasted a little, on the end of a spoon. Perfect. It would need to cool a touch, then she’d pour it into each chocolate-coated mould.
She put the kettle on, grabbed the cafetière and the freshly ground coffee. As she spooned it in, the smell of it was fabulous, rich and aromatic. Next, she bolted upstairs to change into her work attire of black trousers and white T-shirt, as she was still in her pyjamas and the 10.00 a.m. opening time would soon come around.
‘I have fresh croissants.’ Bev poked her head around the kitchen door.
‘Let yourself in, why don’t you?’
‘Well, I knew if you were chocolate-creating you wouldn’t get to the door, anyhow. And I guessed you’d have let Alfie out into the back yard already, so the door would be open.’ Her friend grinned cheekily.
‘True. Well, the kettle’s just boiled, and I’m ready to take a break. So, thanks.’
Bev perched on a kitchen stool. ‘So, how did it go?’
‘Fine. He’s a nice guy.’
‘So, you like him?’
‘Yes, I suppose I do. But I still hardly know him.’
‘Ah, I think you get a good idea, even on the first date.’
‘It wasn’t really a date, Bev. He just turned up in the shop and then we had a quick drink in the pub, that’s all.’
‘Well, it sounded as though you were very cosy there by the fire.’
‘Bloody hell! Is nothing private at all in this place?’
‘Nope, we’re just looking out for you. Don’t panic, I don’t have a webcam on you or anything.’
‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’
They both laughed.
‘Thank heavens for that.’ Em stood by the kettle as it came to a boil, ready to pour into the cafetière.
‘So, what next?’ Bev took a large bite of croissant.
Em brought the coffee across and a jug of hot milk. She took up the other stool.
‘Oh, I don’t know, Bev. I’m not even sure if I want a next. It still feels all wrong. Like I’d always be comparing him to Luke. When I kiss someone – it’s just not like Luke. I don’t know how I get around that.’
‘So, you’ve kissed!’ Bev clapped her hands together gleefully. ‘So … it’s not like Luke, but was it good?’
Em stayed quiet. Thinking about it, yes it
was. But it felt wrong to admit it. ‘It was different,’ was all that she was prepared to say.
‘Different good, or different sloppy and awful?’ Bev needled away.
Emma really didn’t want to talk about this any more. She just gave her friend a sharp look.
‘Okay, sorry I asked.’
Em found herself smiling but then felt sad too. ‘In all honesty, Bev, I just don’t know if it’s worth all the bloody effort. It’s bound to just fizzle out. And then, there’s mention of a girlfriend. He says it’s all over, but I’ve heard that line before.’
‘Ah.’
‘Yeah, exactly. It just seems all too complicated.’
‘Life’s always complicated.’ Bev gave an understanding smile.
They both bit into their croissants.
‘Don’t I know it,’ Em smiled back.
‘But he did come back to find you. And he did say that was all over.’
‘Well, yeah …’ Em’s voice trailed.
‘Well then. So, do you think he’ll ring?’
Emma felt her heart give a little flutter. Now that was the million-dollar question.
It wasn’t just romantic woes that were on Emma’s mind; her struggling finances were at the forefront too. Business was usually a little slower at this time of year, and every quiet week put more pressures on the rent fund. Emma lived a pretty frugal life as it was, not spending much on clothes or shoes, keeping her food bill to a minimum, and she never took a holiday away (though she didn’t know where she’d head off to on her own, anyhow) so there weren’t many other places to make cutbacks. Even with the hotel and deli new business, unless she could improve her income further, she would soon be struggling, even with the Christmas season coming up.
Oh, and on top of those concerns, she hadn’t had a phone call or text from Max yet. Yes, it was still only the day after they’d met up, but he was there in her thoughts, along with the will he/won’t he call burning question.
The door clanged. Emma looked up, shaking herself from her financial-no-call-gloom.
‘Oh, hi, Holly.’ Now that was a lovely sunny smile to cheer up a grey day. ‘How are you?’
‘Good, thanks. Just off the bus.’
Blimey, was it that time already?
‘I was going to call up at the hotel to see Adam before I head home and I thought I’d say hi.’
‘Aw, that’s nice. Thanks. Time for a cuppa?’
‘Yeah, sure. Even better if you can make it a hot chocolate?’ Holly gave a grin.
Ooh, yes, that sounded a good idea. It was getting dark and the sky outside was a whirl of autumn leaves. It was now officially the season for hot chocolate with whipped cream and a chocolate flake.
Emma pulled through the two stools from the kitchen and set them up beside the counter; that way she could still keep an eye on the shop.
‘So, how’s it all going, then?’ her assistant asked her five minutes later, as Emma came through, popping two lush-looking hot chocolates in front of them. ‘Heard you had a date over the weekend?’ Holly continued.
Not another one! The Warkton grapevine certainly spread like wildfire. Even old Mrs Clark had quizzed her earlier over her milk chocolate brazils order, after commenting that it was a bugger of a windy day.
‘Six foot two, bit of a hunk, built like Gerard Butler, with the face to match,’ Emma responded to Holly, tongue in cheek. May as well spill the beans and get it over with. The whole village was no doubt talking about it.
‘Ah, so that guy came back then.’ Holly looked serious.
Well, he did look a bit like Gerard Butler.
‘So, what was he like?’
‘Nice … we got on well.’ Em was playing it fairly cool.
‘Woo-hoo. Good for you, Em. It’s about time you found a hunky man and a bit of happiness.’
‘Thank you, I think. But just because everyone else is loved up doesn’t mean I have to be too.’
‘No, I know. But you’re grinning about it, and that’s nice to see. You have a little glow about you.’
Did she?
‘Hah. Probably a hot flush,’ Emma jibed.
‘Mmm. Fab hot chocolate, Em.’ Holly resurfaced from the mug with a creamy white moustache.
‘Yeah, just right for a chilly autumn day.’ Emma took a sip too. Chocolate didn’t have to come just in a truffle or a box!
‘You know what? I really like this, Em, sitting here, being able to chat and have a cosy drink. Especially this time of year, when it’s nearly dark outside already.’
‘Yeah, it is kind of nice.’
‘There’s nowhere like this in the village. Me and my mates, we can’t really go to the pub at our age – well, not that I’d let on to my mother.’ She smirked. ‘And Adam’s hotel is nice, but awfully formal and more for the holidaymakers, really. You need to open a little café, Em.’ It was half said in jest. ‘So I can have a chocolate stop and a natter on my way home. My friends would love it too.’
‘And old Mrs Clark,’ Emma took up. ‘She was moaning about the climb up the hill again this morning and needed a little sit down. I brought her a chair out for a bit, so she could catch her breath. Actually – bloody hell, Hols, that’s it! You’re a star.’
‘I am? And what’s it?’
‘What we need to do – have a little coffee shop so people can have coffee and chocolate by the sea: The Chocolate Shop Café.’
‘Brilliant! Can we really do that? Have a coffee shop in here too? That’d be ace.’
‘Well, it’d have to be fairly small because we don’t have loads of room to spare in here. But yeah, why not? We could put some chairs and tables out in the front space. A couple of stools like this at the counter, maybe – and just there, by the bay windows, we could make those areas into window seats. Ooh, I can just picture it and I can smell rich, warming coffee, hot chocolates, fragrant teas … and all things chocolate.’
‘Brownies.’
‘Choc-chip shortbread.’
‘Chocolate milkshakes.’
‘Chocolate croissants.’
‘Yum, sounds lovely.’
‘Yes, I can just picture it, all cosy with cushions, snug for the autumn and winter months, when people want to come and shelter and get warm after being out walking on the chilly beach.’ Emma was getting excited now.
‘Or from a chilly school bus.’
‘Absolutely. Yes, I can really see it. Hang on, that’s it, I’ve got it – The Cosy Chocolate Shop Café.’
This could be it, Emma thought, the answer to her prayers, the extra sprinkle of luck she so badly needed.
‘Well then, cheers.’ Holly raised her hot chocolate mug and they clinked cups together.
‘Cheers, Holly – to the Cosy Chocolate Shop Café.’
23
Emma’s mind was spinning in bed that night, but for a change, not about men or money. If she really was going to make the shop into a café as well, how long might it take to add a little seating area, get it furnished, and source the extra kitchen equipment and crockery she might need? Furniture-wise, all she needed to buy (or even better, with finances tight, rummage the odd house clearance or auction room) were two tables, and perhaps six chairs. She could use the two stools from the kitchen to make a counter bar, but she’d need to find a carpenter or builder to make the window seats – hopefully, at a really good rate.
One very lovely builder came to mind, but it was way too early to ask for help like that. And she still needed that particular builder to call her! The thought made her stomach go squishy. It was still only two days since their ‘date’, and despite her concerns she realised how very much she wanted to hear from him.
Surely, if he liked her, he’d have phoned by now, or even sent a brief text. Was he doing his disappearing act all over again? She felt like a teenager, all angsty. Damn, she wasn’t cut out for all this emotional stuff. She’d been off the dating scene for far too long. Were you still meant to wait for the guy to call you? Did you go ahead and call
him? She had his number, after all. Did you send a text? If so, how to phrase it? She didn’t want to look desperate or needy, but she didn’t want him to disappear into thin air again either.
The next morning, she’d had several tourists in buying fudge and truffles to take home to loved ones, and someone else wanting a gift for the pet sitter. Emma did a ‘Thank you’ bar in both milk and dark chocolate with white squirly chocolate writing. They were very popular. At different times of year she’d write festive messages on them, and there was a ‘Happy Birthday’ version too. It’d soon be time to start making some of the ‘Merry Christmas’ ones, she mused. Then her mind wandered to a ‘Text me!’ message. Hah – she could send Max a chocolate message, lol – that was if she had known his address.
The day flew and it was soon past five o’clock. She locked the shop’s front door, flipped her pretty chalk-painted sign over to closed, and made her way to the kitchen for a quick cup of tea, bite of toast, and then another hour or two of chocolate crafting. It was time to start planning for Christmas, what to make and when, although much of it was instinctive now, with six years under her belt.
This evening she was going to craft some old favourites, the best sellers. Her customers loved the salted caramels, mint-choc discs, whisky, rum and brandy truffles, brazil nuts covered in milk chocolate (Mrs Clark), and her Northumbrian fudge, both the plain and her special recipe made with Alnwick Rum and raisins. She’d concentrate on the fudge, a few chocolate bars and the mints tonight, and then have a truffle-making session tomorrow.
Her tempering machine was already on the go, keeping the chocolate at just the right temperature and consistency – her best investment yet. She had started making everything by hand, initially, tempering the chocolate in a bowl, which was fine and very craftsmanlike, but it gave you a bloody sore arm and wrist! And, with Emma being the sole chocolatier, when the shop grew busier and she needed plentiful regular supplies, it was just not practical. She still did some tempering by hand at her busiest times, and when the mood took her, but her trusty machine was her best friend in the kitchen.
The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop Page 13