Chapter 9
Alex
It takes more willpower than I thought possible to walk away from Emma’s cottage.
I can’t remember the last time a date left me feeling both wrung out and wide awake.
She talked about Lebanon like it was stitched into her soul, and when she did, something in her opened.
Those shy glances vanished, replaced by spark and light.
Listening to her made me want to book a flight, grab her hand and see the world through her eyes.
Aside from a couple of cheap lads’ trips to Spain, my holidays have always been a mixture of British hills, bad weather and a workshop full of deadlines.
I used to think that was enough. Now I’m not so sure.
By the time I get home, I am smiling at my own front door like it has cracked a joke.
I wander into the kitchen, set a beer on the counter and catch my reflection in the oven door.
Same face, same hair, same cocky smile. Yet something sits lighter in my chest, an almost foolish lift, the sort that makes a man stand a little straighter without knowing why.
I feel younger than I have in years, not in a teenage way, but in that rare, grown-up sense of possibility.
The kind you don’t notice slipping away until it suddenly returns.
Two kisses. And they couldn’t have been more different.
The one in her shop had been full of first time nerves and I was half afraid breathing wrong would break the moment.
The one at her door had been… well. My pulse still jumps at the memory.
She had leaned into me with a quiet certainty that made the world tilt a little.
No panic, no retreat. Just soft heat and something honest sparking between us.
It rattled me more than I care to admit.
I take a swig of beer, set it down and instantly realise the gaping flaw in my romantic triumph. We didn’t exchange numbers. I can’t text her. I can’t even send a goodnight message. A grown man in his early forties should not groan into his hands over this, but here we are.
I’ll fix it tomorrow. First thing.
As always the universe has other plans for me.
A rescue callout drags me up a fell before sunrise because two tourists decided climbing in the dark without head torches was the height of romance.
They are cold, embarrassed and very grateful, and once the paperwork is done and I get through a meeting at the workshop, half the day has vanished.
I should catch up on work, but the only thing looping in my head is the way Emma had looked up at me on her doorstep last night, surprised and soft and entirely unaware of what she was doing to me. Work can wait. She can’t.
I swing by Cherry Pie Bakery first, partly because I want coffee, mostly because turning up at Emma’s shop empty-handed when Christina might be present feels like amateur hour. I need her on my side.
“Three coffees and three éclairs, please,” I tell Lisa.
She arches an eyebrow in that knowing Fellside way, amused rather than prying.
Fellside always knows when someone has a crush.
Not out of malice, just because the village runs on mild nosiness and baked goods.
Someone probably saw Emma and me leaving the restaurant last night, and if anyone glimpsed that kiss on her doorstep, it will already have been shared with a fond chuckle over a morning brew.
Lisa hands over the box of eclairs with a grin that says she could comment but won’t. Fellside might be nosy, but it's kindly with it.
Armed with caffeine and pastry, I head to the florist where Christina greets me from behind the computer. Her expression’s neutral for all of half a second before it cracks into a smirk as I set a coffee and an éclair on the counter.
“A bribe?” she whispers.
“Insurance,” I whisper back.
I ease open the door to the back room.
Emma is sitting on the floor surrounded by buckets and stems, her messy bun hanging on by sheer determination. She looks up. For a moment her whole face brightens, soft and surprised, and something in my chest reacts far too enthusiastically.
I set the remaining pastries and coffee on the desk. “I was going to bring you breakfast,” I say. “Then I got called to a rescue. So this is more of an early lunch.”
“You didn’t have to,” she murmurs.
“Oh, I did. Mostly because I don’t have your number, which is frankly a crisis I couldn’t let stand. And because I wanted to see you.”
Her cheeks warm. She holds out her hand.
“Phone.”
I pass it over. She types quickly, and a vibration hums from the desk behind her. She definitely sent herself a message. When she hands my phone back, there’s a faint, satisfied tilt to her smile.
“Sorted.”
I tuck the phone into my pocket and offer her my hand again, palm up, asking without asking.
She studies it for a second before sliding her fingers into mine.
The contact is warm, tentative, a bit brave.
I draw her gently to her feet. The movement brings her closer than expected and she steadies herself with a soft bump against my chest. Colour climbs her cheeks, but she stays exactly where she is.
“Belated good morning,” I murmur, brushing a thumb lightly across her cheek before kissing her.
It’s nothing like last night. Calm instead of frantic. Warm instead of breathless. A kiss that feels like finding your footing on uneven ground. She responds with a soft urgency that makes my cock pay attention. For a moment the whole day steadies itself around her.
The door swings open.
“Emma, do we have—” Christina stops dead, takes in the scene, and grins as though she’s just spotted a unicorn. “Sorry. Sunflowers. A customer wants ten.”
Emma jolts away from me like a startled cat, with a face so red it looks like she has a sunburn, and practically vaults into the walk-in fridge. Christina gives me a slow wink, utterly delighted with herself.
Emma returns clutching sunflowers, with her cheeks still pink and refusing to meet my eyes.
“Thank you. I’ll leave you two—” Christina doesn’t clarify what she thinks we will be doing but she giggles joyfully as she heads back to the front.
“Come here,” I gently guide Emma towards me, sliding an arm round her waist.
“When can I take you out again?” I ask.
“You don’t have to,” she whispers.
Her shoulders dip, the way they do whenever doubt sneaks up on her. It’s subtle, but it lands like a stone in my stomach. Someone in her past did a real number on her, and if I ever meet them, I will give them a piece of my mind.
“I want to take you out again,” I say gently. “If I could whisk you off right now, I would. But the rescue this morning’s pushed my whole day sideways.”
She gives a tiny nod, eyes dropping. “You could just… call me next week. Whenever you’re free. Or—”
“Emma.” I lean in and kiss her softly before she can finish that sentence. It’s a light kiss, but enough to pull her back from whatever bleak place she was heading.
When she looks up again, her eyes are a little wide.
“No chance I’m waiting a week,” I say. “How’s Friday night?”
She blinks, surprised. “Friday?”
“Friday,” I confirm, fighting a grin. “Unless you have other plans. Hot date? Secret life of intrigue?”
She gives a startled snort. “Yes, Alex. I’m very busy with my secret life. It’s exhausting keeping up with all the espionage.”
“Good,” I say. “I’d hate to interrupt your crime syndicate.”
Before she can answer, Christina bellows from the front, “She’s free on Friday!”
Emma groans and slaps a hand over her face. “I swear I’m going to move her into the walk-in fridge.”
I bite back a laugh. “So… Friday, then?”
She lowers her hand and nods. Not shy this time. Not uncertain. Just… yes. And it does something ridiculous to my soul.
“I’d like that,” she says quietly.
“So would I,” I reply. “Seven o’clock. And I promise not to blow your espionage cover.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling, and that’s all I need.
She stays in the back-room doorway as I leave, cheeks flushed, eyes bright, looking at me as if she’s still surprised I’m real.
In the front shop, Christina lifts her coffee in greeting.
“Say hello to Bambi for me,” she chirps.
“Who?” I ask.
“Phil. Your timid friend who looks at me like a deer in headlights.”
I laugh. Hard. “Oh, he’s going to love that.”
She beams, completely unbothered. “Good. I’m not easily discouraged.”
Poor Phil. He has no chance.