Jen thought she heard a “yeah right” as her sister disappeared up the stairs.
For the next fifteen minutes she composed and erased messages, until she groaned a frustrated Argh and decided she was too tired and too flustered to do this right. She headed for bed, phone still gripped in her hand. Once under her covers, she told herself she should go to sleep. It was too late to text anyone anyway and he was an hour ahead too. But her mind wouldn’t settle, so with a huff she had another go. She could always wait until morning to send it.
Hi, Just wanted to say a big
THANK YOU for all your
encouragement on the beer.
A local restaurant wants to
stock it and I’ve decided to
follow the passion and try
making a business of it. Jen X
There. It was a tad long, but it told her news, it said her thanks and it wasn’t too sappy. She’d ummed about the kiss, but figured one was acceptable – they had kissed for real, after all. No kisses would seem cold, two would be too effusive and possibly open to misunderstanding. Engaged women had to be careful about such things.
Her thumb hovered over the send key. She really should leave it to the morning, so she could revise it if necessary. But she wanted to tell her news to someone – someone not related to her and duty-bound to be wowed.
What if he was asleep and it woke him? Well, Jen reasoned, he shouldn’t have his phone on when sleeping, so this could be a lesson.
She hit send and it was gone.
Dropping the phone on her quilt, Jen flopped back on her pillow, wondering if she’d done the right thing. On top of the excitement of the evening there was another feeling creeping up on her, a trepidation, but a good one. She wanted to hear back from him, she knew she did. Thinking about him and their night in Copenhagen, always (yes, it had happened more than once) gave her an exhilaration she couldn’t really understand. Even her anger over the Kronegaard thing hadn’t quite slewed that off, if she was a hundred percent honest.
She grabbed the phone to switch it off. He might not even respond. He might simply accept her thanks and be done with it. The very thought made her shudder. Or rather, it made her hand shudder.
The phone was vibrating with an incoming call. The number was the one she’d just sent her text to.
Chapter 20
“Jen?”
“Yakob?”
“Hello again.” She could picture his face clearly, she could hear him smiling. Which was good as her own face was suddenly filled with an enormous grin. For starters he’d responded to her, which gave her an enormous sense of relief.
“Hello again.” Hearing his voice again, knowing she’d found him made her so so happy.
And then there was silence. Nothing awkward, just calm, as if they were listening to the other breathe, or simply content to be connected.
Eventually she broke it.
“I wanted to let you know. About the deal. And that I’m doing it. The beer. I haven’t packed it in.” She knew her sentences weren’t brilliant, but they were tumbling out.
“I’m so glad. It was ridiculous that you should stop.” There was a touch of admonishment in there, but she’d take it. He was right. What had she been thinking?
“I know, I know. I think I just got … well, misdirected I suppose.” She was going have a think at some point why she allowed herself to even consider it.
“What? You?” he scoffed, “with all your spreadsheets and plans? How is that possible?” Yes, he was definitely grinning at the other end.
“Shush,” she said, “enough of the teasing. Sometimes people are mistaken about things.” It reminded her of something else she’d be mistaken about or rather misled about and it brought a curt end to the lightness of her mood.
He picked up on it instantly and in a quiet tone said, “You didn’t wait for me at the show, Jen.” Was it wrong to be pleased that he sounded disappointed? It was simple statement, not an admonishment in this case, simply an opener for an unavoidable conversation. Jen thought about it. This had started as a nice call. She didn’t want to sour it. She could lie, say that her train was earlier than she’d thought, or her call had necessitated her return. But considering how upset and dismayed she’d been, Jen felt she deserved answers. Honesty felt like the best approach.
“I found out who you worked for Yakob. I didn’t know what to make of it, why you hadn’t mentioned it.” She felt her face warming at the memory. “I felt stupid for not having put the clues together, and I felt embarrassed for having talked to you about my brewing and things like that, when you work for a giant like Kronegaard.”
“We never discussed my w–” he started calmly.
“You had many opportunities to put me straight, Yakob,” she cut him off sternly, he wasn’t getting out of this. “I spent most of an evening slagging off your employers and you could have stopped me at any time to tell me. I even slated them wearing one of their own t-shirts!”
“They won’t mind,” he said.
“I’m serious, Yakob, please be serious for a minute. I felt like such an idiot, and a rude one at that, having landed on your deck, accepting your hospitality and then sounding off about the company you work for. Why didn’t you say?”
He took a moment to compose his answer and she suspected he was rubbing his hand through his messy hair. “Because you are entitled to your opinion, Jen. And it’s an informed opinion. Plus I enjoyed listening to you getting excited about the industry I work in. It was refreshing. Had I told you, you would have felt awkward and maybe clammed up and I didn’t want that.” None of that sounded malicious, she had to admit.
“And you weren’t laughing at my tinpot brewing?”
“Not for a second. Do you think Henrik Krone started with more?” Fair point. He was sounding very reasonable.
“You should still have told me,” she said again, sounding slightly petulant. “I felt like a fool.”
“That was never my intention, Jen. I’ve never thought you were a fool.” Well, that was good as he’d had ample opportunity in Copenhagen.
He waited. The choice was hers whether to hold it against him.
“OK. Fair enough.” She thought she heard him release a sigh at the other end. “Maybe I shouldn’t have left. I just don’t deal well with surprises, or people not being honest.” She thought back to something he’d said on the boat, about dishonest girlfriends. Perhaps they had that in common too. “Same as you.” She took his silence for contriteness. Her actions were clearly not a point of hilarity for him – for once. Good. She liked that. She decided to let him off the hook. “So are you really a corporate shark?” she asked.
“Ha! That makes it sound far more exciting than it is.” He seemed to like the description and she really hadn’t meant it as a compliment. She’d been hoping for a straight No.
“It sits weirdly with me,” she confessed. “As a beer snob.”
“Doesn’t with me,” he said, blithely. “It’s just numbers and shopping.”
She was pretty sure it wasn’t. “You eat up companies.”
“I sustain and generate jobs,” he chipped back.
“You’re all about profit.”
“And we pay our taxes on it, which improves global economies.” He didn’t seem remotely apologetic. In fact he seemed to be enjoying this.
“You aren’t about the craft.” That’s what her dad would have said.
“Does that matter? You and many others seem to have that covered.” What?! Now he had to be messing with her.
“I don’t think you believe that. That it doesn’t matter.”
“I work in the numbers department, why should I care?” Jen saw this might be true, but her gut told her no.
“Sorry, Yule, I call bullshit,” she said, with a sly smile. “I saw the way you talked about brewing with your Morfar. I know love of the craft, when I hear it. I hear it in my own head. You do care, you might just not be in a position to do anything about it.”
/> “Ha! You think I am held hostage in the finance sector?” He was chuckling now.
“I think somewhere along the path you turned to the dark side, but the goodness is in you.”
“Maybe I chose it, Yoda.” For a second he didn’t sound quite so cocky.
“Or maybe your parents did.”
The lack of immediate response was a jarring halt to their flow. What had she said? Maybe his parents were dead too. Jen started to formulate her retreat and apology, but then he was back. “So, what do you think Jen, how will my creativity burst through these corporate bonds?”
“Well, that remains to be seen Yakob, creativity is a curious thing,” she said, relieved to have him back on track, “but right now, with all your recommendations to follow the passion, I’d say you’re living vicariously through me.” It felt true as she said it. What was more was she liked it.
“Hmmm, it’s certainly an interesting experience. I don’t know Jen, I’d say I’m far too ingrained in the business side of things to tinker with The Craft.” The grandiose way he said The Craft told her he was back to teasing and deflecting. Somewhere she’d prodded a nerve. Ha! “We’ll just have to wait and see, won’t we?”
He wasn’t denying it, she noticed and she liked the fact that the “wait and see” implied knowing each other in the future.
“I’m glad you texted,” he said, changing the subject.
“I wasn’t expecting you to call back. I didn’t want to disturb you. It must be late there.” She looked at her clock. It must be half eleven in Denmark, far later than she’d normally ring anyone.
“I’m not usually asleep at half ten,” he said with a laugh. Such a nice laugh. Throaty. Genuine. “I’m not that old yet.” She didn’t know how old he was, not much older than her though, maybe mid-thirties with a boyish face.
She looked at her clock again. She still had the analogue dinosaur on her bedside table. Perhaps she hadn’t wound it properly, so she checked her phone. Also ten thirty.
“Did your clocks change? Denmark’s ahead, isn’t it?” She imagined him lounging on his sofa, looking up through the glass roof, the summer night and the lights from the surrounding buildings melding above him. The image made her sigh.
She sensed a hesitation. “I’m in the UK, Jen.”
“You are?” Well, that would explain the time thing.
“I am. I live here too.” That, on the other hand didn’t make much sense to her.
“Wait, what?” Jen sat back up in bed. Reclining must be making her thinking sloppy.
“I work in the UK, Jen. I go home most weekends and stay on the boat, but this is where I work.”
At first she couldn’t think what to say. This was huge. She’d thought of him as being far, far away and now, well, apparently not. “How did I not know this?” She thought back to their chatter in Copenhagen. She’d just assumed that the boat was home for him. “See! I did just talk about me on the boat. What a lousy guest.”
That made him laugh again and she relaxed. “I liked not talking about myself,” he said, “and you were interesting. You probably thought I was interviewing you.” No, that wasn’t how she remembered their evening at all. In her head it had been perfect. He’d been interested in what she did. He’d listened to what she had to say and engaged her in good conversation. The only downer had been having to leave. No actually, her body now told her, the bigger downer was not accepting his offer to stay the night. But she’d had decent reasons for that, her head threw back.
“No, it didn’t feel like an interrogation,” she said, “but now it’s my turn. Seeing as you withheld information before, now I get to ask you some things.”
“Can I reserve the right to lie?”
“Have you been drinking this evening?”
“No.”
“Then no.” She was sounding quite school ma’amy.
“Go on then.” He didn’t sound totally open to the game.
She settled back down, ready to make this last a while. “Where are you right now?”
“In bed.” Oh. For some reason that made her blush, which was silly as she was in bed too, but it made the conversation feel more intimate. Also, it hadn’t been quite what she’d meant.
“And where is that?”
“I’m in Halesford.” Kronegaard had a huge plant in the town. Anyone with an interest in the business knew that, and anyone who’d driven along the ring road had seen the enormous tanks on the side of the building holding the beer. Once when they’d been stuck in a jam beside it, she and her dad had tried calculating the number of bottles they’d each fill. The numbers had been beyond them.
“That’s less than hour an away.” She wasn’t sure what she meant by that, but it was out of her mouth faster than she could stop it. Was she just showing off her geography skills or was she suggesting something else?
Thankfully, he sorted her predicament. “That’s correct, Jen. I have some evenings free early this week, and I have never been to Westhampton, so I was thinking I should visit.”
“You were?” she gulped.
“I hear it’s a nice place.”
“It is a nice place,” she agreed, stalling for time, panicking. Presumably he was proposing a visit to see her, not simply a tourist excursion to behold the lesser-known towns of the English south coast. Part of her wanted to jump on the bed with glee and the other was asking where she was going to get an invisibility cloak for them at such short notice.
“I am also interested in seeing a particular microbrewery and tasting their beers.” Oh Lord. He was making her sweat a bit. She kicked her covers off to get some more air to her skin. It didn’t help.
“Are you sure you aren’t coming to spy? My award-winning recipes are not for stealing.” She was teasing, but also still a bit disgruntled he hadn’t ‘fessed up to his job, before.
“You have my word. You can blindfold me if you like.” OH LORD. She fanned her face with her hand. It really was a warm evening. She’d have to open a window soon.
He seemed determined and she was reluctant to put him off. She wanted to see him, though she knew she probably shouldn’t. How would it seem to others?
But then, he had hosted her beautifully when she’d fallen into his neighbourhood, shouldn’t she host him properly when he made the effort to come to hers? She could control this. It was just a matter of proper manners and spending an evening with a friend. She was reciprocating his generosity, that was all. Who could have an issue with that?
“Tuesday?” she said. “I’ll show you the delights of Westhampton.”
“It’s a date,” he stated, “I’m looking forward to it. Good night, Jen.” She bade him goodnight too, but he hung up before she could assimilate what he’d said and clarify it wasn’t a date. It couldn’t be a date.
So much for controlling this.
Chapter 21
Monday was a wreck. Jen’s usual diligence was woolly to say the least. Her head was filled to bursting. Ava had called in sick – which was a good thing as Jen had plenty of work without the distraction of deflecting any discussion of the crampons – but Ava was keen for the jobs on her own desk to keep moving in spite of her absence. “The world can’t stop turning just because I’m not there Jen.” As if. She didn’t sound remotely unwell either. Being convinced her work was considerably more important than anyone else’s, Ava asked Jen to prioritise it. Oh and Zara wouldn’t be back for another week. Her husband had surprised her with a stop-off week in Dubai. So there was plenty to be getting on with in the office. Meanwhile Jen set Aiden on boxing deliveries far away in the back cupboard.
Not that the office work was really what she was thinking about, although she did have an idea for targeting cruise companies to get some inco pad samples left in the cabins. Two things were filling her head. She needed to get things moving on the production front to deliver regularly to Anthony. She’d agreed to start with the IPA and a Golden Ale to test the waters which was easy enough, but she needed to expand somewhere
to accommodate the quantities. What was more, if she was going to do this after work and on the sly, she’d need it close by and all the properties on the rental websites were miles away.
And then there was Yakob. Her thinking was all over the shop when it came to him. For starters she couldn’t stop trying to visualise his face properly, although why that was important to her, given it was just dinner and showing him around town, she couldn’t explain. The dinner itself was a worry. She’d decided it would be better to eat at home; sitting in a restaurant with another man would make it look like a date and Sod’s law said someone she knew would see her. They were a known family in Westhampton. Tragedies had that effect. Exactly what to feed him though, had her in a quandary until hoofing through Pinterest she thankfully found a beer-braised summer stew she could whack in the slow cooker in the morning and leave to get on with it for the day. There, that was one thing off her list and ten minutes later she struck the online shopping off too. Able to marshal her thoughts a little better now, Jen drafted a quick itinerary of places in town to show him, assigning some time simply to walking around and viewing, because she knew that was important to him.
She waved at Alice and Max as she passed the shop on the way home. The tenant of the neighbouring unit was pulling the wooden bi-folding doors across the arch to close up.
“You weren’t about to pass by and not say hello were you?” he asked with a big smile. His beard was snowy white now, where once it had been jet black. He used to piggy-back her around the workshop when she was a little girl, shouting every now and again as she’d grabbed his ears to cling on.
“Hi Charlie.” She gave him a hug. “How are you?” Her dad’s best friend had continued the business after the accident, fixing anything that involved an engine and could be driven into the workshop. He was the perfect tenant; never a problem he couldn’t fix by himself and always on time with the rent. Jen suspected he saw it as a point of duty to their parents not to cause the girls any further grief.
“Tired.” Normally Charlie was upbeat in spite of his constant retirement threats, but when Jen looked at him now, she saw he was looking much older. “My back’s done in and the work isn’t helping.” He nodded for her to follow him in, which she did through the door in the last of the wooden folds. It had been a scorcher of a day, so the cool of the brick arch was welcome. Stooping with a wince, Charlie set about making them tea in the little kitchen. Tea only came one way with Charlie; with lots of milk and four sugars.
Probably the Best Kiss in the World Page 17