Page 41 of Cupcakes and Kisses in Micklewick Bay

Despite not being much of a hugger – her hugs were reserved solely for her children, parents and close friends; she visibly recoiled at the first sign of physical affection from anyone else – Jasmine found herself quite liking how it felt to be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.

NINETEEN

Jasmine picked her way along the cliff path, her mind running over what it was about Max’s hugs that made them feel so different. Or rather, madeherfeel so different. Not that she’d hugged many men. In fact, she’d started dating Bart Forster when she was sixteen. He’d been her first boyfriend and about as affectionate as a wet fish, but he’d had a brilliant sense of humour which was what she’d found so appealing about him. Whenever the doubts surfaced, particularly when he seemed to prefer spending time feeding money into the slot machines – sometimeshermoney – he always managed to reel her back in by making her laugh and pushing her misgivings away; in the early days, at least. She’d lost count of the number of times she wished she’d listened to her friends, warning her against him. But at least something good had come out of her relationship with him: Zak and Chloe. And she wouldn’t change that for the world.

Bart may have been able to make her laugh, but his hugs had never felt anything like the two she’d just had from Max. And neither had Lewis Murry’s, the lad she’d briefly dated when she and Bart had broken up for a couple of months. The feelings Max’s hugs had triggered were in a different leaguealtogether. Maybe it’s because they’d been friends way back and had instantly fallen into their old friendship, she reasoned with herself. Like slipping on a pair of comfy slippers, or a snuggly cardigan; they were always guaranteed to feel good.

As she walked on, she told herself it was the unusually hot weather that was causing her pulse to gallop and her stomach to flip-flop whenever she thought of him, and nothing at all to do with his warm, enveloping hugs. And she’d thought of him pretty much every step of the way so far. What was going on?

Max Grainger had left Micklewick Bay a skinny, scrawny little scrap with wild curls, and had returned a broad-shouldered man with captivating hazel eyes and a voice that could melt chocolate.

Oh, my days!

By the time Jasmine had reached the end of the track, she’d finally worked out what it was about Max’s hugs that evoked feelings Bart and Lewis’s hadn’t: they made her feel safe. Other than her dad, no man had ever made her feel that way before.

How did two brief hugs have the power to do that?she wondered. It didn’t make any kind of sense. But she’d surprised herself by thinking she’d quite like some more.

She threw her head back and groaned. ‘What is going on with you, Ingilby? You need to get that notion right out of your head. You don’t need hugs from any man, never mind Max Grainger, and he certainly doesn’t need any from you. The heat’s clearly mashed your brain!’ She had enough to think about, what with having to find somewhere new to live and chase the garage about her car. It didn’t help that the trouble with the Scraggs was never far from her mind. She hadn’t mentioned Scraggo’s return to Max, not wanting the news to put a cloud over Connor’s party.

She upped her pace, arms swinging. She needed to rid herself of this totally out of character madness before she next saw her friends. Their reaction didn’t bear thinking about, with all theknowing looks, not-so-discreet nudges, and twitching eyebrows. It was already a given that they’d pin her down and question her relentlessly until they’d squeezed every last minuscule detail out of her. And, worse, she knew however much she denied these weird, new feelings, there’d be no hiding it from Lark, with all her extra sense whatdoyoumacallit going on. Jasmine had a funny feeling her friend already knew, if what she’d been hinting at last night in the pub was anything to go by. But despite her anticipated struggles to get the message across, and whatever it was that was causing chaos inside her, her stance still remained the same: she had neither the time, nor the inclination for a man in her life. Including Max Grainger.EspeciallyMax Grainger! End of.

Jasmine finally reached the top prom, the view opening and embracing the beach and cliffs up ahead. The temperature had dropped a little, and she welcomed the cooler breeze that was blowing in from the sea and cutting through the headache-inducing mugginess that had been hanging in the air for much of the day. As she strode along, her mind went over what could have brought Max back to Micklewick Bay. She’d been too lost in thought to notice that overhead, dense gunmetal clouds were gathering, smothering all traces of sunshine. A large drop of rain landed on her cheek, quickly followed by one on her arm.

‘Oh!’

Before she knew it, the sky darkened and the raindrops increased in number. A boom of thunder rang out and lightning streaked across the sky. People started rushing about her, diving for cover in the bus stops, taking shelter in their cars if they were lucky enough to be nearby. It didn’t take long for numbers to thin and before she knew it, she was alone.

Jasmine upped her pace, her sandals slapping against the wet flagstones. She was so focused on getting back home quickly that she hadn’t noticed a car slowing down beside her.

‘Well, well, well. I’d know that ginger mop anywhere. I was hoping I’d run into you. Been keeping an eye out for you.’

She turned, starting when she saw a heavily tattooed man looking back at her, a cruel sneer on his skeletal face revealing a missing front tooth while those that remained were at varying stages of decay. Almost every inch of his face had been darkly inked and studded with multiple piercings, including a bull ring through his nose. The dense pattern of tattoos continued over his shaved head, and onto his arm that rested on the open window. A sheen of sweat glistened dangerously over his skin. Whoever he was, he made for an intimidating sight.

Adhering to her policy of not engaging with strangers who tried to strike up conversation, especially those who triggered a warning in her gut, she pushed on, head bowed against the rain, arms hugging her chest. She didn’t know him from Adam; he’d clearly mistaken her for someone else.

‘Oi! Don’t be ignorant. I’m talking to you!’ He continued to drive alongside her, revving his car in a pathetic display of machismo.

The rain was coming down harder now, bouncing off the pavement. A crash of thunder ricocheted off the walls of the grand Victorian properties on the other side of the road, lightning illuminating the sky. Jasmine shivered as cold set in.

‘I said, I’m talking to you!’ His tone suggested her silence was only serving to annoy him.

Reluctant as she was to engage with him, she didn’t want to anger him further by ignoring him. ‘You must be confusing me with someone else. I’ve never met you before in my life,’ she called across, veering away from his car.

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Jasmine Ingilby.’

Her face fell as a rash of goosebumps erupted over her skin.

TWENTY

How does he know my name?She continued to hurry along, panic pushing her faster. She was desperate to get home, and thankful Zak and Chloe weren’t with her. A couple of cars drove by, their tyres swishing through the puddles. She heard the sound of a car door closing nearby and her heart rate accelerated.Why is the creep following me?

‘Oi! Get here! There’s summat I wanna say to you.’

She darted a look in the direction of the voice to see a short, skinny man walking towards her with an exaggerated ape-swagger. Ignoring him, she continued along the path, panic shooting through her as she realised there was no one else around, her heart thumping hard in her chest.

‘I said, I wanna word with you.’

Hearing the thud of his shoes as he bore down on her, she went to run, her heart now hurling itself against her ribcage. In the next moment, she felt the grip of his fingers digging into her shoulder. She tried to yank herself away but found herself being pulled back by the soaked fabric of her T-shirt.

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