Page 66 of The Cornish Cream Tea Bookshop
‘Exactly,’ Max said, laughing. ‘Also, I wouldn’t be able to look at myself in the mirror if I left you here and let you walk alone.’
‘I realised late last night that we missed the ghost battle at St Ethel’s church.’
‘That was last night?’
‘Yup.’ But she hadn’t been in the mood after the decorations workshop, anyway.
‘Shit,’ Max said. ‘I guess there’s always next year.’
‘And plenty more legends,’ Ollie pointed out. They were quiet for a few moments, then she said, ‘What about when we get to mine? You’re going to leave me and dothe walk – that you’ve already admitted you’re scared of – back to yours, all alone. What aboutmelooking atmyselfin the mirror?’
‘I’ll be fine,’ Max said. ‘You’re my priority.’
Unable to come up with a pithy response, Ollie let her arm drop and laced her fingers between his instead. Max’s skin was warm – gloveless, as usual – and she squeezed his hand, feeling the thrill of their touch go through her. She could think of one way that neither of them would have to do any solo walking, but she didn’t want to overstep.
‘It was a good night, wasn’t it?’ she said instead.
‘It was great,’ Max agreed. ‘I knew them all a little before tonight, Meredith the best because her gift shop is so close to Sea Brew, but they’re all good company.’
‘You didn’t know Finn and Ben that well? You seemed so comfortable with them.’
‘They’re both quite new to the area. Finn’s been coming to Port Karadow for years, but only moved here properly last Christmas, and Ben bought his cottage in February, I think. It’s probably my fault that it’s taken this long for us to get together, but sometimes running a café, all the stuff behind the scenes, the days end up being longer than you expect. I have you to thank for tonight.’
‘You don’t really,’ she said, as they reached the end of a residential street, the road ahead a fathomless, countryside dark. Ollie was suddenly extra glad of Max’s presence, of his chivalry. ‘Thea invited me tonight, and suggested I invited you, too. She had the impression we were good friends.’
‘I wonder what that impression is now?’
Ollie grinned. ‘Maybe they think we’re justreallygood friends, or that kissing on the lips is something us la-di-da London bookish-folk do.’
Max laughed. ‘I’d prefer it if they thought we were together.’
Ollie sucked in a breath. When she’d released it, she said, ‘You do?’
‘Don’t you?’
They were in almost total darkness now, the road they were walking down only turning from pitch black to shades of grey as Ollie’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. The temperature was dropping, and her breath was coming out in clouds, mingling with the swirling mist. She thought of the abandoned church, the ghostly figures that had, perhaps, materialised last night to fight a long-forgotten battle. She pivoted on her heel to face Max, and he stopped abruptly.
‘I do,’ she said, pressing herself into him, speaking the words against his lips. ‘I want everyone to know we’re together.’
‘Good.’ Max angled his head down and feathered his lips against hers. As he deepened the kiss, he wrapped his strong arms around her, sheltering her from the night.
Ollie couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so safe, or so desired. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had made her feel so untethered, so desperate for his touch. Being in his arms, letting herself be kissed and kissing Max back, with the feel of his lips and his taste, his delicious scent, consuming her, she wasn’t afraid of the dark anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
By the time they made it back to Foxglove Barn, Ollie was tingling with anticipation. Even before their kiss on the roadside, she had decided that she didn’t want Max to walk all the way home after dropping her off. Even if she hadn’t been fully committed to their relationship – and it was a bit alarming how much she already was – it wouldn’t have been a kind thing to do. The sofas in the barn were huge and comfortable, and she had spare blankets and pillows, so there were options if he wasn’t feeling the same way she was.
The glow of the barn’s outside lights, the old, proud farmhouse gleaming through the mist, and the sense of comfort she got from seeing them, made her realise how much she already thought of this place as home. Henry hurried ahead, tugging on his lead, and Ollie let herself be pulled, pulling Max in turn.
‘What’s the rush?’ he asked, hurrying to keep up with her.
‘I don’t know, better ask my dog. Oh, hang on …’ When they got close to the doorstep, Ollie realised there was something on it. A delivery that had arrived while she’d been out? But evening deliveries were unusual, and she couldn’t think of anything she was waiting for. ‘What’s this?’
Henry was sniffing it, his tail wagging.
‘It’s a … Oh my God!’ She laughed as she bent over, examining the large, solid log resting on her doorstep, a red ribbon tied around one end, a green ribbon around the other. She felt the bark, rough and cool beneath her palm. It smelled of the forest, of rich soil and damp. There was a tag hanging off the green ribbon, and Ollie crouched so she could read it.
Life is too short to spend every moment working or worrying. Mxx
