Page 63 of The Matchmaker
“Right.” I duck my head, not looking at Callum as I grab the trash bag from where I left it and hurry to the shed. “Just give me a second,” I call back.
My heart is thumping for all the wrong reasons now, and when I return to the pub, Callum has vanished, and Gemma is looking at me with that stern Mam expression that usually sends Noah running in the opposite direction. And now I understand why.
“Katie—”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
“Yes. And way to be a creeper, by the way.”
“You were standing right outside the door. Apologies for using it. Look, I’m not Nush,” she says, when I try to move past. “I don’t think everyone who works there is the devil. But just think. He still works for them, and I don’t want to see you getting hurt.”
“It was just a kiss. I’ve been very stressed and he’s very handsome and I just wanted a little kiss in the moonlight, okay? Drop it.”
“Fine,” Gemma mutters, and though I know she’s not finished with the conversation, she obviously takes pity on me because she turns back to the pub. “But at least do it in a shadowy corner like normal people,” she adds, and nudges me inside.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“How are these things still the most delicious food in the world?”
One afternoon the next week, I drag my gaze from the stock list to where Harry sits at the bar, polishing off a cheese toastie.
“We use extra butter,” I explain. “And local cheese. Not crappy cheese.”
“I don’t know. I think it’s how you cut the sandwich diagonally instead of horizontal.” He pushes the plate away and sets a hand against his stomach. “I’m going to regret that in about thirty seconds, and it will be all your— wait, no. Ten seconds. I’m getting old.”
I abandon my work to slump on the bar next to him. He texted me this morning asking if I had time to see him, and I immediately said yes, but asked him to swing by the barn first so he could see it and then come and admire me and my brilliance. Despite this very clear task, he hasn’t even mentioned it. And as each moment passes, I’m getting more and more impatient. A girl needs praise.
“So?” I ask now, as he checks his phone.
“So what?”
“What do you think?”
“Best toastie ever.”
“Of the barn,” I groan, and he grins.
“It looks great. I’m very impressed. I thought that place was good for nothing other than underage smoking and maybe a location for a horror movie, but you’ve proved me wrong.”
“And we haven’t even put the decorations in yet,” I say. “I don’t know why we didn’t do something like this before. We could rent it out in the future. Host some traveling theater troupes or something.”
“How many traveling theater troupes do you know of?”
“Ask me that question in six months and the answer will blow your mind.”
“It looks great,” he says again. “And the festival will be great. You just need to dress the place up a bit more and it will be incredible.”
“Dress what up? The barn?”
“The village.”
“What’s wrong with the village?”
He gives me a look.
“What? The village is fine.”
