Page 14 of Only Ever You

The encouragement in Faye’s eyes as she cast obvious glances back and forth to the display case made his held breath turn into a sigh and a smile. Bash couldn’t say no to her bakes in the same way he’d learned over time to say yes to himself, and the unhealthy thought of how much distance he would have to add to his next run receded.

In an odd way that probably wouldn’t make sense to anybody else, Faye was his chainsaw, and he didn’t even think she knew it.

“Okay.” He scanned the newest of the designs within the display case, ones he was yet to have tried. “I’ll have the Red Nosed Reindeer, please.”

Faye scooped the doughnut into a paper bag – she’d gone with the red, coated chocolates for the nose after all – and Chandra set an eco-friendly to-go cup down in front of him. Bash thanked them both.

“How’s your morning been?” he asked Faye, letting the heat of the cup warm his palms.

The rubber of her catering glove snapped as she said, “Crap.”

Bash’s brow pinched at that answer.

Faye sighed a noise that was far too heavy for nine a.m and tossedthe old pair of gloves into a bin beneath the counter. “The bloody boiler has gone again and the whole building is cold. I asked the couple who live upstairs and they said they have the same problem.”

A little over one week before Christmas?Crapindeed.

Not even the prospect of a doughnut and latte could wipe the grimace from Bash’s face while Chandra silently ran up his order in the till. “You’re getting it fixed though, right?”

“Hopefully. Along with every other person in all of Greater London, apparently. There’s no one able to come and see to it for the next four days.”

“Four days! Gheez.” Bash pulled his card from his wallet and swiped it over the reader.

“Yep. And if no one fixes it in those four days, then it’ll be impossible until after Christmas.”

Sliding his wallet back within the recesses of his pocket, Bash popped the lid off of the coffee cup and blew steam away before he burned his tongue. The correct thing to do would be to offer up his spare room to her – his house was more than big enough – though he wasn’t going to be there himself over the Christmas period.

He didn’t know why Faye didn’t live with him anyway. Purely as housemates, of course, even though he would kick himself for tempting a bite of the forbidden fruit by living with her again.

His house was closer toBakedthan Faye’s flat, and he’d subtly offered a few times that she could move in. Every time something went wrong with her flat, Bash was left wounded like a sick puppy that she wouldn’t let him help her out.

He’d bought the house after his first big –ridiculouslybig– client had hired him to design for a property with a budget of several million pounds. That project had earned him a substantial commission and thrust his and Bennet’s names firmly into the international luxury interior design market. It’d been more than any amount Bash had known what to do with. Hestilldidn’t know what to do when payday rolled around, years later. To see thenumbers jump in his bank statements the way they did was obscene.

He didn’t know what to do for himself, so instead he made sure his friends and family were secure. He spoiled his two nieces within the bounds that Matt and his wife, Saira, were comfortable letting him do. He’d paid for his parents to have a nice holiday when their fortieth wedding anniversary came around last year. He bought rounds of drinks when he was with his friends and tipped the staff at restaurants, and he donated to more charities than he could count.

Fixing Faye’s boiler wouldn’t put even a chip in his balance. But it wasn’t about the money, it was abouther. He couldn’t go back to his Georgian terraced home in its cosy little square with its fully functioning heating knowing that she had none, and she wouldn’t likely let him help her, unless …

Matthieu was a genius.

Bash kept his eyes down and blew on the steam escaping from the latte’s replaced lid. With what his brother had said to him on the phone haunting in his ear, he wondered, “Why don’t you … come to ours for Christmas?”

The bakery silenced as if someone had gasped.

The cup whistled as he blew and dared to peer up at Faye. Chandra was the only one who blinked back at him.

“To yours?” Faye sounded more than a little unsure.

Here goes nothing.

Bash nodded as he ignored how impulsive he sounded. “I know I told you that I’m going up to see my family. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind you tagging along. Matt and his girls will be there too.”

“Oh, no I couldn’t do that.” Faye’s nervous laughter didn’t convince him at all. She plucked up the empty baking trays from the counter. “Thanks for the offer though.”

“Why not? At least you wouldn’t be on your own and in acold, heating-less flat.” He made it sound like she was an orphan child from the eighteenth century.

“You can’t just invite a stranger to your family’s Christmas.”

Now Bash was the one who laughed. “You’re not a stranger, Faye. You’ve met my parents and Matt.”

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