Page 35 of Barging In
“Max brews it,” Clem said with a grin.
Victoria gave him a nod of acknowledgement. “Don’t let my curator, Jasper, find out. He has a thing for cider — the stronger, the better.”
Clem shot a smirk and a wink at a grinning Max.
Victoria shifted in her seat. “I know I have no right to ask for your help, but here I am. I’ll cut to the chase. I need cake, and I need it tomorrow. Can you help?”
“Oh, erm — what exactly do you need?”
Victoria twisted her lips and looked down. “Could you manage four Victoria sponges? I think that should be enough for fifty people.”
“Yes. I can manage that,” Clem answered immediately. Victoria sponges weren’t exactly a challenge — eight sponges, some whipped cream, strawberry jam, and a few strawberries to decorate.
Victoria sat back and exhaled. “Thank you.”
“What time do you need them?”
“The party starts at seven.”
“I’ll need to start early in the morning. I’ll have my own baking to do, too. Do you have somewhere to store them?”
“Yes, plenty of fridge space. You’re welcome to use the wharf’s kitchen. I can open as early as you want, and you’re welcome to make anything you need for yourself there, too, if it helps you.”
That wasn’t a bad suggestion. With more space to move around and bigger work surfaces, she’d work faster and more efficiently.
“Sure,” Clem said. “Only one problem: I’ll need some ingredients. I keep a certain amount of stock on board but not enough for all that. And I’ll need fresh strawberries.”
Victoria pulled out her phone and fiddled with it. Offering it to Clem, she said, “Here, write me a list. You’ll have everything you need. I have to go to the supermarket now anyway.”
Catching the strain in her voice, Clem raised her hand, refusing the phone. “I’ll do you one better,” she said. “I’ll come with you.”
Relief flickered across Victoria’s face. “Thank you.”
“I will take your number, though,” Clem added casually.
Victoria’s head tilted in question.
“You know, in case I need to contact you about tomorrow.”
“Oh,” Victoria said, her voice hitching slightly. “Yes. Of course.”
Her cheeks flushed a little, and Clem couldn’t help but wonder what Victoria thought she meant. Was she hoping Clem meant it in the traditional sense? But what was Clem thinking? The woman had a husband — a lying, cheating husband, yes, but a husband, nonetheless — and there was no reason to believe Victoria appreciated women the way Clem did. She noticed everything: the way a woman’s hair caught the late-afternoon light, the dip of her neck, the gentle curve of her waist. There was a quiet beauty in the female form, an elegance in every movement, and she had always been attuned to it.
“Clem?”
Victoria’s gentle voice snapped her from her thoughts. Realising those thoughts were all about Victoria caused the warmth in Clem’s cheeks to deepen.
“Yes,” she replied, hoping it wasn’t noticeable.
“Type your number in.”
Taking the phone Victoria held out, she entered her number and handed it back. A second later, her own phone vibrated on the table as Victoria rang it.
“There. Now you won’t have to come to my office the next time you want to reprimand me.”
The small dig pulled a smile from Clem as their eyes locked. “Behave and I won’t have to,” she said, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Victoria’s right eyebrow arched as the corners of her mouth lifted. “I should get back to work. I have a shopping list to finish. I drove in today, so my car is at the wharf. Shall I meet you there at five? It’s the?—”
