Page 20 of The Hampton Beach Café 4
Frances had never been to Yorkshire. She'd been to London more than a few times and found it to be busy and vibrant—even if it was damp most of the time.
“You should,” she said. “I think you'd like it.”
“Maybe,” he said. “But with the jet ski business and a few other things in the winter, I’ve never really had time to go jet-setting about like some big shot business women I know.”
He was teasing her, but she felt like it might just come from somewhere serious. The microwave pinged, and the melted chocolate candy was ready to dip the cookies in for decoration. As Alex grabbed the bowl out of the microwave, Frances shifted the wire racks of cookies to the center of the bench.
“I'll do these,” she said. “You need to get the croissants in.”
Alex nodded. “I do indeed. Tell me, I was happy here, but were you happy out in the big wide world of international corporate espionage?”
She laughed. “Espionage, really? Risk consultancy is hardly espionage. I spent most of my time telling people they couldn’t just look like they had site security—they actually needed it.”
Placing the heavy bowl of chocolate down on the counter, Alex looked at her intently—he wasn't about to let her off answering.
“I think I was happy,” she said. “There was a lot that made me happy and a lot that never really…got there? You know?”
He nodded and retrieved the second bowl of unmelted white chocolate chips from under the counter before setting them in the microwave to soften.
“Did you ever get married? Or, even think about getting married?” she asked, curious.
Alex hesitated for a moment. “No, not really. It's never been the right time or the right person. But I've been happy, so it's not something that's been a big priority for me.”
Frances nodded, understanding. She was about to say something else when she felt a sudden shift in the air between them.
“Here,” Alex said, stepping towards her and grabbing a spare apron off the side as he did so. “You'll get chocolate all over you.”
He slipped the apron strap over her head and stepped closer again, guiding the ties around her waist and somewhat expertly tying them together in a bow behind her. He wasn’t quite pressed up against her, but his arms made contact with her body on both sides as he fussed with the knot. She drew in a sharp breath and looked up at him. The intense expression on his face was matched by the almost hungry look in his eyes, and for just a moment, she thought Alex would lean down and kiss her.
Then he stepped back.
“Do the white chocolate after it's had a few minutes to cool down—it looks better thicker.”
Swallowing hard, she nodded and turned her attention to the cookies.
What was she doing again?
TWELVE
Closing the café up at the end of the night was her least favorite part of the day—it was usually late, and all she wanted to do was sleep. Sleep or, lately at least, try and decode some more of the letters her father had sent her. All these years later, though, the UV marker he had used had faded and decayed the paper in some spots, which made it very hard to read.
As she moved to lock the door, she noticed a piece of paper wedged into the keyhole.
Curiosity getting the better of her, Frances wriggled the note free to read it.
Shouldn’t have done your door like that, sorry. I still think you’re a right prat, though, and she’s not much better.
Alex walked in and peered over her shoulder as she tried to make sense of it.
“What's that?” he asked.
“It's a note…kind of apologizing for the door, but then it calls me something I don't understand,” Frances said, showing him the note.
Alex read the note, and his face darkened. “Who’s this addressed to?”
“I assume me. Could they be talking about Lucinda? What’s a prat?”
“Well,” he said. “It’s not very nice…it’s kind of like an idiot.”
