Page 6 of The Cornish Christmas Book Clu
‘His name’s Gage Bennet and he’s opening a bookshop of all things.’
She ignored the ‘hunky hottie’ reference. That part of the equation she was still struggling to process. The tug of attraction he’d set off was merely a natural reaction to Gage being the first decent-looking, intelligent man she’d met in ages. Nothing to do with the way his dark-blue eyes had turned pitch-black as he’d studied her. Or how his fit, muscular body had filled out the old grey T-shirt and worn jeans. Even before he’d mentioned his military service, she’d noticed his close-cropped black hair and the confident way he’d held himself.
Over the years she’d had a few dates, but calling them relationships was a stretch and Tamara had never been tempted to share her house or life again. When her friends asked if she was lonely or missed sex, she laughed and assured them she was too busy to be lonely and that battery-operated substitutes were far less trouble than a living, breathing man. But now Toby had grown up and was out on his own, was that still true?
‘I told him I can’t see him lasting long. Where is he going to find enough customers here?’ Being negative about Gage and his plans put her on safer ground.
‘What about all the new people moving in? And there’s no other decent bookshop in a twenty-mile radius.’
‘I s’pose.’
‘So is he even hotter close up?’
‘I didn’t pay much attention.’ The skin on the back of her neck prickled.
‘I’ll believe you, thousands wouldn’t. You sly thing. The other single women around here will claw your eyes out for getting in there first.’
‘I didn’tgetinanywhere and for all we know he could be married, gay or whatever.’
‘Yeah, right, if you say so.’ Pixie nudged her. ‘Bet you wish you’d tidied your hair a bit and slapped on some make-up before going over?’
‘Absolutely not.’
The lie brought out her friend’s filthiest laugh.
‘Anyway, his looks won’t matter if he’s as brisk and no-nonsense with potential customers as he was with me.’
‘Handsome, brooding and full of mystery. Yummy.’
‘I need to get these scones in the oven,’ Tamara said firmly.
‘Hey, it just struck me. This Gage person could solve all your problems.’
‘I don’t need you or anyone else matchmaking, and I’m sure it’s the last thing Mr Bennet needs.’
‘Matchmaking? That never occurred to me.’ Pixie’s affronted huff might’ve worked if she hadn’t fidgeted and stared at the wall behind Tamara’s head. ‘What I wastryingto say is that lots of bookshops have in-house cafés to lure customers. You could suggest that to him and offer to run it.’
‘I spoke to the man for all of two minutes and most of that we were at odds. I’m hardly going to breeze over there and tell him how to run his business so I can wangle a new job.’ Her exasperation broke through. ‘I get you’re trying to help, but—’
‘I feel guilty. Okay?’ Pixie turned pink. ‘We’re mates. I hate that I’m dropping you in the shit and swanning off to sunny Greece.’
‘Don’t say that again. Ever. You’ll make me cry and it’ll be ugly.’ A feeble smile accompanied the warning. ‘I’m happy foryou. Right. End of story. Now, let me do these scones. I’ve still got the rest of the puddings to see to.’
‘In a minute.’ Pixie folded her arms and pulled out the glare she normally reserved for belligerent drunks on a Saturday night. ‘You’re the first to step up when other people have problems and always there when your book-club mates need you. You were ace when I lost my mum and I poured my heart out to you when I wasn’t sure how Christos felt about me, and vice versa. Now you need help and that pisses you off. True?’
Tamara tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wouldn’t go away.
‘You don’t always have to be strong.’
Yes, yes, I do. Because if I don’t, I’ll fall apart.
Her determination to keep her emotions under control stemmed from the day Fred had blithely announced he didn’t have what it took to be a husband and father, and they’d be better off without him. It had only been a week after she’d given birth, so her stitches had still itched and her boobs had been so sore she’d had to bite back tears when Toby had latched onto her cracked nipples. Every inch of her poor stretched-out body had hurt. Fred had known her parents wouldn’t have been able to help much because they’d still had her sister, Tracy, at home, who’d only been eight at the time. But Fred had walked out anyway.
That was the last they’d ever seen of him. His child-maintenance payment appeared in the bank on time every month until Toby had turned eighteen, but Fred had never once got in touch to ask about the son he’d abandoned.
She’d been forced to call on the same strength when her parents had both died while Toby was still young. At the time, Tracy hadn’t been old enough to be independent, so she’d lived with them for several years before moving into the flat over the hairdresser’s shop and managing it for the absentee owner. Afew months ago, Tracy had shocked everyone by emigrating to Australia to live with a man she’d met online.
Pixie shook her head and walked away.
