Page 63 of The Cornish Christmas Book Clu
‘I love when you turn all fierce and take charge.’ Gage’s voice turned husky. ‘You’d better go before I behave in a very ungentlemanly manner, in public, where anyone might see us.’
‘It’s dark. Who’s going to see?’
‘You’re wicked.’ Gage wriggled his hand under her red T-shirt and stroked warm, bare skin, making her shudder.
‘So are you, and you’re making me want to do all sorts of naughty things to you right now.’ With a reluctant sigh, she pushed him gently away.
‘I’ll hold you to that when you get back.’
‘You could hold me to anything, anywhere and I wouldn’t object,’ Tamara said teasingly and his laughing response followed her down the street.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Tamara yawned and rolled over. Five a.m. The clock must be wrong. She propped herself up on one elbow and grabbed her phone. It confirmed the time. Was it her imagination or did the Petunia Pig clock face look extra smug this morning? During the long, mainly sleepless night, she’d made her plans.
Pixie always arrived at the pub first on Sundays, around eight o’clock, to spend a quiet hour catching up with paperwork before Rocky turned up to start on the roast lunches.
She swung her legs out of bed and shoved on her pink furry slippers. They had pig bobbleheads for the toes and were Toby’s Christmas present from a couple of years ago.
After she showered and got dressed, it was time to hit the kitchen and bake a peace offering for Pixie. The one possible drawback with her plan was if Christos had changed his routine of clocking in just as the pub opened at noon. She would cross that bridge if she came to it.
By half seven she’d put the finishing touches to the cake and had time to sit down with a mug of tea. Her unique take on a Christmas yule log had turned out perfectly. The light, airy lemon sponges were pieced together to resemble a log and rolled up with a cream filling laced with limoncello liqueur. Along with the whipped cream exterior, it played to Pixie’s love of light, fresh, citrusy cakes. She’d decorated the top with miniature Christmas baubles in jewel colours, and they were some of the best sugar-work she’d ever done.
A message popped up on her phone and the sight of Gage’s name made her smile.
Good luck with Pixie. Your day might even be easier than mine.
The row of horrified-face emojis he signed off with made her laugh.
The church clock started striking and she counted the chimes. Eight. Time to go. Tamara slipped an old black cardigan over her T-shirt as a concession to the frost whitening the grass outside her window and picked up the white cardboard box from the kitchen counter.
Why did distances shrink when you least wanted them to? Before she realised it, Tamara was knocking on the back door of the pub.
‘It’s open, Rocky. Why’re you...’ Pixie turned pale. ‘Oh, it’s you. What do you want?’
‘To give you this. Can we talk? Please?’ Tamara thrust the gift at her old friend and anxiously rattled off a description of the contents.
‘I suppose you might as well come in.’
She nervously followed and watched Pixie open the box. Her friend studied the contents with wide eyes and gave an appreciative sniff.
‘You didn’t need to do this.’ Pixie’s lower lip wobbled. ‘You should pelt me with it for being a proper cow, although it would be a shame to waste this beauty.’ A burst of high-pitched laughter betrayed her nervousness. ‘Is it okay to eat lemon cake this early in the morning?’
‘Why not? It’s almost Christmas and everyone knows that’s the season of free passes when it comes to calories.’ She was swamped with relief. They weren’t over the hump, but at least the door hadn’t been slammed in her face. Perhaps the United Nations should use cake as a peacemaking tool. ‘How about a coffee? I’ll make it while you cut the cake.’
‘Coffee sounds awesome. I didn’t have time before I came here.’ Pixie turned away and headed for the cabinet where they kept the dishes.
They busied themselves as they’d done so many times over the years and shared the task of getting their unusual breakfast ready. Soon they were sipping hot, fragrant coffee and digging into the cake. Tamara blushed with pleasure at Pixie’s almost orgasmic reaction. Making food for other people was all about unselfish giving and nourishing, which was exactly what their shattered friendship needed.
‘This was one of the recipes I planned to include in the December Dessert specials. Did that—’
‘Go by the wayside? Yeah.’ Pixie sighed. ‘Rocky didn’t have time for anything extra, so he stuck to the usual stuff. You must have this on sale in the café when it opens,’ she said vehemently.
‘How is Rocky? Has he had any luck finding a new job?’
‘He doesn’t need to, thank goodness.’ Pixie’s relief was obvious. ‘I spoke to the new landlady last week and they’re keen to keep him on. And with a pay raise too, so he’s over the moon. How are your plans going for the café?’
‘Really good. I should be able to open in the new year.’ Damping down her enthusiasm for the project she’d dreamed about for so long was impossible, and her friendhadasked, so she got the full rundown. ‘We’re still struggling with the name, though.’
