Page 56 of The Gingerbread Cafe
He kissed her again, more slowly this time, his lips soft and warm against hers like a gloriousI’m ready. She couldn’t wait to get back to Starry Knight cottage and get wrapped up in Lukas until the moon took over from the setting sun.
Chapter 45
It was the morning after the Mistleton Fair and Gretel felt like she was in a dream. She was snuggled up in Lukas’s bed at Starry Knight cottage after the best night she could remember.
She lay alone, luxuriating in the memory of it, the hollow next to her still warm and smelling of him. After a delicate morning hug he’d kissed her gently and had gone downstairs to make fresh waffles. She could get used to waking up with a chef. A smile crept across her face as she remembered last night’s hurried walk home, full of excited whispers, anticipation. And promises.
She’d been acutely aware it would be her first time, as had he. Yet everything had felt instinctive.
They’d rolled together on his bed, learning their way around each other’s bodies, the sheets soft and fresh like they’d been waiting. She’d savoured every delicious moment. When they’d finally brought their willing bodies together under the twinkle of the stars through the shutters, fully protected and safe, it had felt like utter bliss.
And right now, she was missing him already. What was taking him so long? She would surprise him and go to help. He’d taken the only dressing gown, so she pulled her jumper dress over her naked skin and crept down the stairs in bare feet. She stopped on the bottom step as she heard Lukas talking. Just one voice.She guessed he was on the phone. As she turned to retreat to the warm bed, not wanting to interfere, she thought she heard him say a name. Franny.What?
She shook her head. It didn’t really matter if he was speaking to Francesca Whimple, did it? Well, it was way before breakfast time, so that was kind of weird. But the woman was all about business. She probably never slept.
Yet whatbusinesswould Lukas have with the Whimple now? She and Lukas had talked about it last night – they were keeping the café. Together. After the success of the fair, the café’s incredible takings and the sense of achievement they’d both felt, they were giving it a go. Perhaps he’d need to let Miss Whimple know that. It was only polite. But as she tiptoed up another step, she couldn’t help overhearing. His voice sounded animated. He was excited about something.
‘I can picture it now – a proper place to call my own. I’d completely redo it, obviously. It would be a disaster as it is. Totally the wrong look. But I’m imagining a really intimate vibe and top-notch cuisine. Great table linen. The best desserts in the Cotswolds.’
Gretel froze, her hand clutching the handrail for support. What on earth was he on about? His own place? With top-notch cuisine? But he’d said … Her chest tightened. Had he wanted to turn The Gingerbread Café into a stupid fancy restaurant all along?
‘And the views up there are amazing.’
She blinked. What views? From the café, you could just see out onto the street. Oh God. He still wanted to buy that swanky old mill building, didn’t he? That stuff he’d said last night about keeping the café had been a bunch of lies. But why? Her hand flew to her mouth. To get a naive virgin into bed?
‘No, of course I haven’t told her.’ He scoffed.
She’d heard enough. She tore down the stairs and into the kitchen, marching barefoot across the hard floor, not sorry she accidentally shoulder barged Lukas in her rush. Luckily her shoes and bag were still by the back door where she’d dropped them, though he’d have to keep her underwear. She wasn’t coming back.
‘Gretel.’
As he was busy scratching his head she unlocked the door and ran out into the cold, grey air. His gravelly path felt like tiny knives on her feet, but there was no time to put on the shoes she’d grabbed. At least she could use them as missiles if he dared come after her with his absurd excuses.
But what was there to say? She’d heard everything.
She made it around the side of the cottage to his front gate, which in their excitement to get inside last night, they hadn’t even closed. Her stomach lurched.
Once she was off his property, she made a run for it, the chill burning her lungs. Was that his voice? But she wasn’t stopping. Not until she was somewhere safe. Like she’d always known, people weren’t to be trusted. Especially not Lukas Lying Knight.
She was nearly on Green Tree Lane before her lungs began to give up. She was puffing hard and her feet were probably bleeding, but she was nearly home.Home. Where the hell was that? She’d given up her crappy rented maisonette. Now it was clear she couldn’t stay at The Gingerbread Café. Things were crashing down around her.
She managed to turn the corner, the Christmas tree coming into view. At least she would always have that. Her pace slowed as she gasped for breath, the world dizzying.
‘Gretel.’
Oh God, was she hearing things? Or had he come after her? She ploughed onwards as quickly as she could with aching lungs, the cobbles slippery under her feet.
‘Gretel!’
She spun around. ‘Yes, I know what my bloody name is.’ If these were her last breaths, she did not want to waste them on this idiot. She tried to turn and scurry, but he’d caught her wrist. The momentum spun her back towards him. She glared down at her wrist then back up at him. ‘How dare you. Get off me.’ Her voice was a wheeze, but she’d never been so hot with anger.
His eyes widened. ‘I’m sorry.’ He pulled his hand away.
‘Sorry for what? Lying to me? Sleeping with me? Chasing me down the road and manhandling me?’ The words were flying from her mouth and she couldn’t stop them.
‘No! I mean, I’m sorry if I hurt your wrist, I definitely didn’t mean to, but … what? Gretel, what’s going on?’
Oh, he was good. What a showman. No wonder she’d been fooled. ‘I heard your conversation with Swingy Bob Whimple.’
