Chapter 17
The rain had finally stopped and Sasha was happily unpacking her latest find from Etsy – a Japanese kintsugi tea set.
Broken crockery had been put back together, mended with resin and gold powder.
Where the broken parts joined, the gold glaze formed a long, golden drip.
Sasha loved finding unusual tea sets in flea markets and antique shops.
Running the café meant she could indulge her passion and collect them.
She displayed some on shelves, and others, less fragile, were for everyday use.
Her taste was eclectic and included Royal Doulton and European designers as well as Chinese and Japanese ceramics.
As she washed and dried her latest find, her thoughts roamed to her matcha reading for Klara.
If she thought hard enough, she could make out the arms of the man holding Klara’s hand on the beach.
He’d had well-defined biceps, which made her think of Leo.
Klara wasn’t having any of it. Her Adonis must be from a holiday romance, she insisted.
She’d ordered some travel brochures and was deciding where to go.
Sasha was sure Leo had a crush on her friend. But Klara refused to see past his Royal Mail uniform.
She glanced over at Mr Davis and Gloria, happily chatting away at their table. A smile curved her lips and warm pride flooded her chest. Now, there was a success story. Go Matcha Moments! Somewhere in the universe, her beloved Por Por was still supporting her with her psychic insight.
This block in her intuition when it came to Ben was a minor blip.
It must be down to him, not her. She had to believe in herself and her powers.
She might have given up on love for herself, but her clients had to find happiness.
As Por Por said, making other people happy was a fulfilling gift in itself.
Thinking of her grandmother blurred her vision with tears. As she put a cup on top of the others on the counter, she didn’t register the stack was in danger of collapse.
Oops. The cup tilted, shifting the centre of balance. Sasha gasped, panic prickling the back of her neck. Her fingers flailed, but the stack of teacups was swaying like a tower block in an earthquake, about to tumble down like Jenga, when a hand shot out and grasped her wrist.
Strong fingers curved round her hand and a steady palm held her arm stable. She safely gripped the errant cup, placed it on the countertop. Accident averted.
Sasha’s heart thudded. She breathed out with relief and looked up to thank her teacup saviour. Of course. It was Ben, lips tugged up in his lopsided smile, that delicious dimple winking.
A nervous giggle escaped her. ‘Saved from teacup Armageddon!’ She lowered her face to hide her hot cheeks. Ben’s calloused palm still rested on the back of her hand, warming her with a comforting heat.
‘Well caught,’ he murmured. Had his voice always been husky or was he coming down with a sore throat? Could the books he read starring dragon-riders have increased his own hunk quotient?
She pulled her hand away, and his thumb brushed the inside of her wrist. Her pulse jumped. The air vibrated between them. The background samba, the murmur of conversation and the clink of teaspoons faded.
It had been a long time since anyone had touched Sasha on that part of her wrist. The only reason for these pleasurable shivers. She remembered how his chest had felt that day she’d run into him on the common. Firm. Warm. Muscular.
‘Kintsugi? These are gorgeous.’ His eyes caught her gaze with a sudden intensity.
‘Yes! Don’t you love how the fracture is even more beautiful, put back together with gold?’ She found herself babbling, holding the teacup up to hide her blush.
‘I’ve – er – been having a go at making them myself,’ Ben admitted with a shy smile. ‘In case you ever need something mending.’
‘Wow – amazing!’ She breathed in his sandalwood scent with a jolt of pleasure that twisted to something uncomfortable.
She hated to admit she still found him difficult to read.
She’d had no idea he was into ceramics or crafting anything at all.
Ben was a reminder that her psychic powers weren’t fail-proof.
Lately she’d kept seeing Ben everywhere, reminding her of her frustration.
She’d popped into The Bookery earlier, as Klara had been too busy sorting out her serial-killer books to pick up her latte.
And guess who had been deep in the fantasy section?
Watching Ben absorbed in yet another tome with a muscled hero on the front had had an interesting effect on her insides which she’d been trying to ignore.
Now trust him to be back in the café, her teacup Sir Lancelot, but in black jeans and checked shirt instead of armour. A Lancelot whose muscled arms were from the outdoor gym and lugging sacks of clay, rather than swordfights.
‘Thank you – all fine now!’ she spoke brightly, hiding how his touch had unsettled her.
The inner wrist was an erogenous zone – a pleasurable zing was hardly surprising. She was a living, breathing human, with thousands of nerve endings, wasn’t she? Anyone’s touch would have had the same result.
She exhaled, annoyed with herself. Ben had confessed he was lonely since he’d quit his City job to move to Bramleigh Green; she was meant to be finding him a match, not overreacting to his touch.
It’s a physical reflex, nothing more. If Klara had burst in from across the road and saved the teacups, and held her wrist, the shiver would have been identical.
But Sasha couldn’t lie to herself: Klara often grabbed her hand with enthusiasm, and it never made the hairs on her forearm raise so deliciously.
All right, so it was a male-energy-meeting-female-energy thing. Positive meeting negative. Yin and yang. But Mr Davis often patted her arm in thanks when she carried over his matcha. The molecules in the air never trembled like this.
‘Sure you’re OK, Sasha?’ Ben asked softly.
Her face flamed. Why couldn’t he go back to being Snarky Ben? This caring version was too disconcerting.
‘I said I’m fine. What can I get you?’ Did he notice the effect he’d had? It’d obviously been too long since she’d last had sex. Her vibrator wasn’t doing its job properly.
She couldn’t seem to tear her gaze from Ben’s eyes.
How had she once told Klara that brown eyes were boring?
Ben’s were more amber today, flecked with gold from a stray beam of sunlight.
Not that it meant anything. Noticing his piercing eyes was literally her job since she was meant to be finding him a partner.
‘An Oolong tea would be great . . . Sasha?’ He threw her an amused glance.
She flushed again. ‘Sorry – miles away, thinking of Mr Davis and Gloria – isn’t it fab?’ she gabbled. ‘I think he might propose!’
‘So soon? After a handful of dates?’ His amber eyes rolled.
OK, this was more like the cynical Ben she knew. She beamed through gritted teeth. ‘When you find The One – why should you lose any more time?’
‘Do you really believe in The One?’
‘Why not? Since I’m going to help you meet yours!
’ To hide her burning cheeks she bent and rummaged under the counter for his favourite umber crackle-glazed cup.
It broke the forcefield humming between them.
His single state was like grit in her shoe – a whole rock of it – that’s why her thoughts kept snagging on him, she decided.
Whatever his views on ‘The One’, Ben was relying on her to help find him the perfect partner.
She would prove she could. She remembered how Por Por had warned her not to get too close to a client.
That she should beware of any sudden feelings of attraction to someone she sympathized with.
This lusting over Ben must be what she’d meant.
But Sasha wasn’t going to let Ben down because of a sudden physical attraction that was bound to pass. That would be madness. She’d help him find his match if it killed her.
‘Can I tempt you with a salted-caramel matcha muffin? And you did say you’re still up for a matcha reading? How about next week sometime?’
Ben grinned. ‘Mm, salted caramel. I am tempted – yes, to both.’
Sasha ran a hand over her strawberry-print apron, brushing away any doubts. Matcha Moments’ reputation was important. She needed more happy matchmaking clients to increase revenue. Nothing was going to stop her. Certainly not an inappropriate response to amber eyes with gold flecks!
She spent the next half-hour trying not to look at Ben at his corner table.
A short while later, the door rang and in stepped a gorgeous young woman in a red, flowery dress, with dark corkscrew curls tumbling over her shoulders.
It was as if a beam of sunshine had come into the café.
The young woman rushed over to Mr Davis’s table and he called over to Sasha.
‘Sasha, my dear, meet my granddaughter, Chloé. She’s staying with me for a while. ’
Chloé came over to the counter. ‘Hi, Sasha – I’ve heard so much about you from my Pops.
I’m so happy to finally meet you.’ She lowered her voice.
‘Pops is so much happier now he’s met Gloria and I heard it was all through your matchmaking service.
A vision of cheeky Puddles needing rescuing?
That dog is such a clever sausage, aren’t you, Puddles? ’
Mr Davis said, ‘I thought Chloé could help you with promoting your matcha readings. She’s something big on the internet, aren’t you, my dear?’
‘She’s an influencer, Robert. Your granddaughter has thousands of followers,’ Gloria added.
‘My followers would adore this café: this place is so cute!’ enthused Chloé. ‘I can take a few shots now, if you don’t mind – make you a reel?’
‘That would be great if you could.’ Sasha smiled. Chloé seemed wonderful, as warm and friendly as her grandfather. ‘I don’t have time to post on Instagram much, although I know I should.’
‘I have a marketing starter package for small businesses. With our friends and family discount I hope it might be in your budget. We can promote the café and your matchmaking service too.’
‘Wow – amazing! Thanks so much – I need all the promotion I can get.’
‘I’m sure lots of your happy customers won’t mind me filming a testimonial. Everything you offer is vital for the community, especially the matchmaking. Dating apps are exhausting. Your method of finding true love feels so much more personal.’
‘Chloé’s been helping with our festival fundraising,’ said Mollie from the corner, where she was working.
‘Last year we raised money for our Heart of Bramleigh Green Award. Maybe she can help you too, Sasha? After all, what would we do without our favourite cosy spot in town – with the most delicious matcha treats?’
Ben waited by the counter, to pay for his tea. ‘You must try everything to save Matcha Moments,’ he murmured.
Sasha noticed Chloé’s hazel eyes flicking him a once-over. She obviously liked what she saw. ‘Chloé Davis,’ she introduced herself, confidently shaking his hand.
‘Hi, I’m Ben – and I’m off.’ He tried to catch Sasha’s eye, but she deliberately looked at the till. It was a good thing Por Por had warned her about this transference of feelings; it was something that sometimes happened in therapy too.
‘We’ll see you tomorrow at the party, Ben!’ called Mollie.
Chloé glanced appreciatively at his lean figure as he left the café. ‘I’d love to try your Matcha Maker Special. Maybe you could help me, Sasha, and I could track the journey on my IG? My followers would love that.’
‘Wouldn’t it be wonderful if you help Chloé find someone while she’s in Bramleigh!’ exclaimed Mollie.
‘I’m just so sick of dating apps.’ Chloé rolled her eyes. ‘It’s full of douchebags. The last one left me stranded in a country pub – there was a train strike and it cost me a fortune to get a taxi home.’
Sasha smiled. ‘Let’s book something soon!’ Chloé would make the ideal matchmaking client. Bubbly and warm, her personality was very open. There’d be no problem getting the matcha bubbles to give her a vision of where Chloé might find romance.
‘Perfect!’ Chloé beamed and hugged Sasha, who was just as excited to see where it would lead.