Page 32 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘He seems like a great kid,’ Ollie said, following Max further into the shop.
‘He is. He’s had a tough time of it since Becky split up with his dad, and he’s a lot older than his brother and sister, which makes things harder. Becky thought it would be good for him to come tonight, and I was here anyway, so …’ He shrugged, his gaze leaving hers as he glanced around the shop. Then he turned back to her. ‘Ollie—’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ she rushed.
‘I stepped over a line.’ He moved closer to her and dropped his voice. She knew he was trying to apologise, but seriously? The low tone, the sudden lack of space between them? It wasn’t getting anylessseductive.
‘I brought it up in the first place, and I shouldn’t have.’ She glanced behind her to check that nobody could overhear them. Thea was busy at the till, and she knew she needed to join her.
‘I just …’ he started, and Ollie had a moment of blind panic. If he told her he was attracted to her, if he admitted he’d been thinking about her in lacy underwear, she would be entirely lost – like that bloody fisherman. She would be lost to the charms of a decent man, rather than a storm, but it would still swallow her whole.
She blinked the thought away and said, ‘Are we still on for Thursday?’
Max paused, then nodded. ‘Of course.’
‘Good! Only, I need to help Thea, otherwise she’ll drown in a sea of customers.’
His shoulders dropped, and she wondered whether he felt relieved or defeated. ‘Sure. I need to see where Dylan’s got to.’
Ollie’s hand moved of its own accord, squeezing his upper arm. She could feel how firm his bicep was, even beneath his coat. ‘Please don’t worry, Max. I honestly didn’t mind you saying that. I mean, I – it doesn’t matter. It was … it was nice.’ She winced.Fuck.That’s not what she’d meant to say at all.
She gave him a quick smile and left him there, hurrying over to the counter to help Thea. But she had seen the lookon his face just before she’d abandoned him, the way his lips had parted ever so slightly, his eyes darkening. He hadn’t looked confused or alarmed, and the only way she could describe it – the only way she could think to – was that, after she’d admitted to him that she hadlikedhim referring to their underwear conversation, that she had thought it wasnice,was that he’d looked at her hungrily. Perhaps kind, charming,so sweet with itMax was a little bit dangerous, after all.
Chapter Fourteen
The next morning, the rain was coming down in sheets.
‘Hello, November,’ Ollie said, as she pulled back the curtains over her French doors. ‘Thanks for this.’
Henry looked up at her and whimpered, and Ollie, knowing she would have to change again once she’d been outside, put her wellies and a waterproof jacket on over her pyjamas and took him for a short walk before breakfast. The cloud cover kept the cold at bay, and even though she wasn’t exactly toasty, she got back feeling exhilarated rather than chilled to the bone.
By the time she’d had a hot shower, then milky coffee and toast with peanut butter on, the rain had abated slightly, and she thought she might make it to work without becoming a drowned rat.
There was still a heavy drizzle, and Ollie got into town in half her usual time. She had an umbrella and kept her head down, but she could feel the rain soaking her trousersfrom the knee down, and watched droplets land on the sleeves of her coat like a thousand tiny jewels.
Today, more than ever, she needed a proper drink from Sea Brew, rather than the instant coffee she’d get at A New Chapter. She hadn’t been able to sleep when she’d eventually got home after the ghost walk. Max’s expression just before she’d left him played as the lead track in her thoughts, along with her triumph that the walk had dipped towards disaster, but she’d been able to rescue it.
Those victories were the best kind. If you could claw your way back from near-failure to resounding success, then you were achieving; you were learning. It had given Ollie the confidence to go online, find out the name of Sophia Forsythe-Hartley’s editor, dig deeper for the format of the publisher’s email addresses, and write her an enthusiastic email about A New Chapter, and about how much they would love Sophia to launch her new book there in December.
She didn’t think she was defying Thea, exactly: she was simply making enquiries. Her spontaneous events were bringing sales and recognition to the bookshop, and an author launch had the potential to be huge. But it couldn’t be done at the last minute: she had to give it the time, effort and energy it deserved.
She reached Main Street and slowed her pace, the cobbles ahead slick and precarious, even against her low-heeled boots. She walked carefully, every step placed with precision, her eyes on her feet, so when someone crashed into her she jolted backwards and squealed in surprise.
‘Jesus Christ!’ The voice was loud and male, and as she raised her umbrella she saw a dark figure reel away from her, clutching his face.
‘Oh my God! Are you OK?’
The man bent over, rubbing his eyes. He was dressed all in black, his chosen protection against the weather a rather ineffectual leather jacket, and his dark hair was dripping.
‘Are you all right?’ she repeated, when he didn’t respond.
‘You should have been looking where you were going!’
Ollie felt a spike of anger. ‘I should be saying that to you. Iwaslooking where I was going: I didn’t want to slip on the cobbles. Where wereyoulooking that you managed to crash, with full force, into my umbrella?’
‘I was in a hurry,’ the man shot back, his face still obscured by his hand.
‘Oh.Wellthen. It’s clearly all my fault.’
