Page 80 of A Winter Kiss on Rochester Mews
‘I’m not an idiot! You! You’re the idiot!’ Mattie shouted at Tom, approximately thirty-six hours later.
‘No, the only idiot here isyou,’ Tom decreed in damning tones. ‘I told you that customers only got a free tote bag with purchases over twenty pounds, and it turns out you’ve been giving away free tote bags to everyone. Even if they just buy a bookmark.’
‘You didn’t tell me,’ Mattie insisted, because he hadn’t. ‘And anyway, how am I expected to remember all the strange and completely arbitrary ways this bookshop is run? They defy all laws of logic.’
They were in the back office, sent there by Little Sophie, of all people, after Tom had made the unhappy discovery that they’d completely run out of ‘Reader, I Married Him’ tote bags and had said some very unkind things to Mattie when he’d realised that she was the culprit.
And yes, she’d shouted at him on a crowded shop floor, but she’d had very little sleep (which was all Tom’s fault because he’d gone out the night before without even telling her where he was going and she hadn’t been able to sleep until he was safely home – on his own) and also she was doing the work of two people. No, three people. Three very busy people.
‘Yes, I’m sure Posy would be delighted to hear you running down the business she’s put her heart and soul into,’ Tom snapped, because if Mattie was in a filthy mood today then his mood was a perfect match for it. ‘About as delighted as she’ll be when she hears that you’ve left us with none of our bestselling tote bags with only three days to go until Christmas.’
‘I bet you’ve got boxes of them stashed away in the coal hole or in here somewhere.’ There were boxes everywhere and apparently Verity had a system and knew where everything was, but Verity was still snowed in. ‘This isn’t a business. This is chaos and not even organised chaos—’
‘Bookselling is about passion and—’
‘Well, you could look more passionate when you serve people, instead of looking bored,’ Mattie said with a stabby finger at Tom who was standing there, arms folded and looking incredibly bored in that moment, which just made her crosser. ‘Posy left me in charge and the very least you could do—’
‘You’re not in charge,’ Tom said quickly, a look of pure annoyance flashing across his face. ‘You’re absolutely not the boss of me.’
‘Oh, if I was the boss of you, you’d be fired so fast you wouldn’t know what had hit you,’ Mattie promised in a low, murderous voice. She employed her stabby finger again. ‘And Posydidleave me in charge, so I’d watch it if I were you.’
Tom caught her hand and used it to tug her closer. ‘You wouldn’t dare,’ he breathed and of course Mattie wouldn’t, not when she was trapped between Tom and a filing cabinet so she couldn’t escape, not that she wanted to – and, oh God, she had to get out of there. She liked Tom. Liked him a lot. Maybe even more than a lot, but Tom had been so damaged by the vile Candace that he wasn’t ready to like a woman more than a lot. And also at this precise moment in time, Mattie didn’t like him at all. Even if being in such close proximity to him was giving her what Posy would call stirrings.
There was a pause as they scowled at each other, Tom’s hand pressing Mattie’s hand to his chest, where she could feel the thud of his heart. Then the alarm on her mobile phone began to beep, breaking the moment.
‘Don’t push me then,’ she warned, pulling her hand away as Tom stepped aside. ‘And you’ll have do without me for a bit, my cupcakes need me.’
‘Your cupcakes are welcome to you,’ Tom muttered as Mattie left the office. The shop was heaving: the queue for the Mistletoe Booth was extremely restless and a gang of teenagers were taking it in turns to ride the baby reindeer like they were the odds-on favourite to win the Grand National.
But the tearooms were busy too so if Tom seemed to think that he had superior bookselling skills, then let him get on with it. Mattie surveyed her crowded domain where everything had a place and there was a place for everything. Not like the bookshop …
It took forty-five minutes for Tom to cave. Or rather he sent Sam to do his dirty work for him.
‘You have to come back to the shop,’ Sam groaned, slumping over the counter, unhygienically. ‘People are taking liberties with the kissing booth. One couple were in there for five minutes doing things that we really didn’t want automatically posted on the Happy Ever After Instagram. And Sophie has to keep going up the rolling ladder, but Sophie shouldn’t have to because she has an inner-ear thing, and also there’s a problem with tomorrow’s order from one of the book suppliers and no one knows what to do about it.’
‘And …?’ Mattie prompted, folding her arms because she knew what was coming and she wanted to savour it.
Sam tossed back his fringe so that the extravagant rolling of his eyes wouldn’t go unnoticed. ‘And Tom says he’s sorry and can youpleasecome back and help in the shop?’
‘Help?’
‘Be in charge of the shop.’
‘Tom said that?’ Mattie clarified. ‘Can I have it in writing, please?’
‘Heknewyou were going to say that,’ Sam grumbled, producing a crumpled piece of till roll with something scribbled on it:
Dearest Mattie
I am wicked and ungrateful. Please come and be in charge of us all before the customers cause a civil disturbance.
As well as my undying gratitude, I will go and get dinner tonight.
Yours ever so truly,
Tom
‘I’m going to have your note framed,’ Mattie said to Tom when she returned to the shop five minutes later. ‘Or screen-printed onto a T-shirt, I haven’t decided which.’
