Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Daniel was firmly on her mind. He had the kind of charm that made him seem like he belonged on magazine covers, not behind the counter of a dusty antique shop.
He should have been striding down a New York catwalk, not fixing wobbly shelves and rearranging creepy porcelain dolls.
It didn’t make sense to her. Why would someone like him choose to live and work in a place like that?
As she walked along the path with the distant sound of waves rolling against the shore, she let herself imagine an alternative reality.
One where, perhaps, she wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with Daniel, though in a hotel suite with Egyptian cotton sheets and a champagne room-service menu, of course.
But there? In that flat? Absolutely not.
With a shake of her head, she pressed on towards the B&B. Some things were non-negotiable.
The Puffin Island B&B was a quaint two-storey building with ivy-clad walls and a bright, welcoming red door. A small brass sign beside said door read: The Driftwood Lodge B&B. This was exactly what Fern needed: a quiet, sensible, normal place to stay. Then she saw the sign.
NO VACANCIES.
She froze, suitcase handle clenched in her fist. Oh, come on. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe the sign was decorative, meant to make the place feel exclusive. Yes, that had to be it.
Not one to be easily deterred, she pushed open the door and stepped inside.
The interior was as charming as the exterior, with wooden beams, floral wallpaper and an assortment of knick-knacks that made the place feel lived in and cosy.
There was also the comforting sight of quaint armchairs, and an elderly Labrador snoring near the reception desk.
Behind the desk stood a woman who immediately smiled.
She was kind-looking with bobbed hair, glasses perched on her nose, and a cardigan that suggested she’d perfected the art of cosy living. ‘Hi there, I’m Lena, can I help you?’
Fern strode across the reception area, forcing a bright, hopeful smile. ‘Hi! Please tell me that sign outside is a mistake.’
Lena gave her a sympathetic look. ‘I’m sorry but it’s not. We’re fully booked.’
The hope in Fern’s chest died a swift and tragic death. ‘Fully booked?’
Lena nodded. ‘It’s the annual Cosy Crime Enthusiasts’ Convention this weekend. Every room’s taken.’
Fern stared at her, waiting for some kind of punchline. When none came, she exhaled slowly. ‘You’re telling me I have nowhere to sleep because of amateur detectives?’
Lena, bless her, looked genuinely apologetic. ‘It’s a very dedicated crowd. They come dressed as their favourite sleuths, and spend the weekend solving fictional murders and debating the best way to poison someone without getting caught. Harmless fun … mostly.’
Fern blinked. ‘Mostly?’
Lena hesitated. ‘There was a small incident last year involving a very realistic crime scene and an actual police response, but I’m sure they’ve learned their lesson.’
Fern laughed but she was still disappointed there was no room at the inn because of murder mystery enthusiasts. ‘Not even a tiny room? A cot? A broom cupboard?’
With a smile, Lena shook her head. ‘I’d offer you my own sofa if I could, but someone has already claimed it.’
Fern deflated. ‘Just my luck.’
‘I know the hotel on the island is also full, but I have a list of other B&Bs over in Sea’s End you could try? You’re more than welcome to grab yourself a drink and use the living room to make a few calls.’
‘Thank you, that’s very kind.’
Fern spent the next hour calling every B&B and hotel within reach.
Nothing. No last-minute miracle. No backup plan.
She was going to have to go back to No. 17 Curiosity Lane with her tail between her legs.
She thanked Lena for her help and headed back outside, the now familiar sound of her suitcase rattling against the cobbles providing a soundtrack as she slowly made her way back to the shop.
As she stepped through the door, something unexpected hit her – the rich, savoury scent of garlic, herbs and something undoubtedly delicious. Leaving her suitcase by the stairs she followed the aroma through the shop, pausing in the kitchen doorway.
In the corner of the kitchen, a small wooden table had been set for two. Two steaming plates of pasta. Two wine glasses. A bottle of white wine chilling in an ice bucket. And there, standing by the table, was Daniel.
‘Took you long enough,’ he said.
Fern blinked. He had done this for her?
‘I had a feeling you’d be back,’ he continued, pulling out a chair. ‘Also figured you might be hungry. You’ve had a long day, and no doubt only eaten that half sandwich and KitKat on the train. You must be starving.’
She hadn’t expected this and barely knew what to say. She settled on ‘This looks amazing.’
‘You wouldn’t get this treatment at the B&B,’ he said smugly. ‘Take a seat.’
She sat down and her stomach betrayed her for the second time that day, growling loudly.
Daniel smiled as he poured them each a glass of wine then placed a salad on the table. ‘Tuck in.’
She didn’t need telling twice. Fern picked up her fork and took a bite. The pasta was silky with a sauce that was rich and perfectly seasoned. ‘This is so good.’ She glanced at him. ‘You make the best sandwiches, you cook the best pasta and you play the guitar? I’m impressed.’
‘I take it the B&B was full of crime enthusiasts?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll thank them later.’
She grinned. ‘You make sure you do.’ She held his gaze longer than necessary, savouring the moment of awareness.
She really enjoyed flirting with Daniel, but the reality of sharing a bed with a complete stranger was something else entirely, and worries about what she was going to do were still looming in the back of her mind.
After they’d finished the food, she helped to wash up, her mind turning over her options. Finally, she had to admit there was only one choice. She took one last fortifying sip of wine then looked Daniel in the eye. ‘Okay. Ground rules. Technically, I own this place—’
‘Hasn’t taken you long to assert authority, has it?’ He grinned, taking any sting out of his words.
‘Can I ask you to sleep on the sofa?’
‘Of course. That was actually my plan. Ieven put clean sheets on the bed whilst you were gone. I suppose if I get lonely down here, I can always talk to Gerald.’
‘You can.’
‘Now that that’s settled, tell me, what has your day been like as the new owner of an antique shop?’ he asked, sitting back at the table.
‘On the whole … it’s been interesting, but I’m absolutely shattered and need my bed.’ She pointed to the stairs.
‘Fair enough,’ he said, grabbing her suitcase and carrying it up the stairs to deposit it in the bedroom.
‘Sweet dreams, city girl,’ he said, giving her a little salute before closing the door.
There was a beat of silence before a loud moo floated in through the window, causing her to jump.
‘Daniel!’ she shrieked.
The door creaked open again, and there he was with a lopsided grin.
‘I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to sleep on my own,’ she said quickly, before she could talk herself out of it.
‘If you insist,’ he said, stepping into the room.
‘You have to stay on your own side of the bed.’
Daniel smiled. ‘Anything you say, city girl.’
‘What is that noise?’ she asked, as the moo sounded out again. ‘It sounds like cows.’
‘It’s the puffins! Welcome to Puffin Island!’
Fern turned to find the moose’s glass eyes staring right at her.
She prayed she was going to survive the night.