Chapter 17
Peggy’s Tea Shoppe might be renowned for its tea, but it made the best coffee in Tanglewood, despite Stevie’s love–hate relationship with Bertie, the gleamingly menacing coffee machine.
Kazz drank a scalding mouthful in delight. She had taken to popping into the tea shop for a quick bite of breakfast before opening her own shop. Who could resist croissants straight from the oven? Not her! And she often took a savoury pastry or two with her for lunch, to eat in hasty flaky bites between customers.
‘So, lunch with the Greens?’ Stevie began, wiggling her eyebrows. ‘Leanne told me.’
‘I suppose she also told you that Saul and I went to a whisky distillery afterwards?’
‘She did.’ Stevie sat on one of the stools that had been drawn up to the stainless-steel island in the middle of the tea shop’s kitchen. Kazz was perched on the other, while Stevie was waiting for the rest of the morning’s bakes to come out of the oven.
In some ways, this was Kazz’s favourite time of day, with the heavenly scent of coffee and baking before the busy day ahead. It also gave Kazz and Stevie a chance to catch up.
Stevie said, ‘You know you can’t keep anything quiet in Tanglewood.’
Kazz waited for Stevie to take a bite of Danish pastry and then said, ‘Did she also tell you he kissed me?’
Stevie inhaled sharply. The mouthful of pastry went down the wrong way, and she coughed and spluttered for a few minutes while Kazz sat serenely, pleased she had managed to shock her friend.
After a gulp of orange juice and some dirty looks, Stevie said, ‘No, she did not tell me Saul kissed you. Oh, dear.’
‘I know, I know, he’s bad news,’ Kazz said. ‘But I’m a big girl and I can take care of myself.’
She watched the digital display on one of the ovens count down, the kiss lingering in her mind. It had taken her a long time to fall asleep last night. If the kiss had been just a kiss at the end of an enjoyable evening in the pub, it probably wouldn’t have affected her as much. OK, she would have been just as turned on (impossible not to be where Saul was concerned, she suspected) but she didn’t believe her emotions would have been as engaged. Last night had been so wonderfully romantic: a handsome man reading a gorgeous love story by soft lamplight, with the mellow taste of whisky on her tongue.
If he had deliberately set out to seduce her, he couldn’t have planned it better.
It hadn’t been planned, though, and neither had he seduced her – although he had come close. She could so easily have succumbed to desire, and if they had been in the privacy of the flat above the tea shop, she may very well have.
‘As long as you know what you’re getting into,’ Stevie cautioned.
Kazz shrugged. ‘He’s fun. I enjoy his company.’
Stevie read more into the statement than Kazz had intended, saying, ‘I’m sorry I’ve been a rubbish friend but it’s so hectic at the moment. It’ll get better after Christmas, I promise.’
‘Don’t be silly, we’ve all got lots on our plates.’ Kazz had thought – naively, as it turned out – that she and Stevie would pick up where they’d left off when they had been living in London. But Stevie had a fiancé now and a business that demanded most of her attention. Add the build-up to Christmas into the equation, and it was no wonder the two of them weren’t painting the town red every evening.
Although, a pale shade of pink might be more accurate where the peaceful little village of Tanglewood was concerned.
‘How is business?’ Stevie asked and Kazz brightened.
‘Quite good. Did I tell you that Lord Tonbridge paid me a visit?’
‘No, but Tia did.’
‘Why am I not surprised? Anyway, he suggested I raise my prices. I did a bit of research – a lot of research, actually – and discovered he was right. So, I have raised them and I’m selling roughly the same number of books per day but with increased profit.’
‘Good for you! Do you think you’ll stay on after Christmas?’
‘I think I might.’ Kazz grinned. ‘We’ll have to see, because I’m expecting sales to drop off drastically in the New Year.’
‘January and February are usually slow months for me,’ Stevie said. The oven timer pinged, and she leapt off her stool to take several trays of baked goodness out of it, then carried on. ‘There’s not much I can do about January, but at least February has Valentine’s Day in the middle, as well as the spring half-term, so I try to make the most of it.’
Kazz’s thoughts were whirling. Maybe she could have a sale in January and do a feature on romance fiction in February? She might even find a few romance links in a couple of non-fiction titles if she looked hard enough. It probably wouldn’t be enough to generate the kind of sales she needed to make the bookshop profitable, though, and it occurred to her that a website for direct selling might be a good idea. Then there was the issue of finding more stock, because the books she had brought with her wouldn’t last forever. If she wanted to attract repeat customers (and new ones) she would have to have a steady supply of fresh stock to temp them. Her main problem was where to source them from, and she wondered whose brains she could pick. Lord Tonbridge’s maybe? Or would the kind of books he was familiar with be way out of her price range?
A noise from the tea shop’s door alerted them to Betty’s arrival. ‘Coo-ee,’ she called, bustling into the kitchen.
After taking her coat off and hanging her voluminous handbag on the pegs at the bottom of the stairs leading to the flat, she rolled up her sleeves and popped an apron over her head.
‘Shall I make a red velvet cake?’ she suggested. ‘The colour is lovely and festive. Morning, Kazz.’ The old lady’s glance slid over her, then snapped back to Kazz’s face and sharpened.
Betty narrowed her eyes and scrutinised her. ‘Someone looks happy for a Monday morning,’ she observed. ‘This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain handsome chappie by the name of Saul, would it?’
‘No, it would not,’ Kazz retorted.
Stevie coughed and went to check on the contents of the second oven. Kazz glared at her back.
‘Hmm.’ Betty continued to stare, and Kazz wriggled uncomfortably. She refused to look at the old lady, in case Betty could read the truth in her eyes.
Kazz hopped off the stool. ‘Is that the time? I’d better open up.’
‘Nice window display,’ Betty called after her, and when Kazz glanced over her shoulder, it was to see a big smirk on the old lady’s face.
Kazz gasped. She couldn’t possibly know! Could she?
Wednesday morning saw Saul lowering the tines attached to the front of a tractor, then spearing one of the large plastic-covered bales of silage. Satisfied it was securely held, he raised the bundle of fermented grass off the ground and reversed carefully out of the barn. He was taking it to one of the lower fields for the pregnant ewes, because at this time of year they needed the additional feed.
His mind was only half on the task at hand. The other half was on Kazz.
Saul had kissed numerous women over the years, but the kiss he had shared with Kazz had touched him more deeply than any other. Apart from Joelle’s kisses – but he didn’t want to go there. Joelle was his past, and that was where she should stay.
He had shared much more than kisses with Joelle. He had given her his body, heart and soul. And she had taken all that he had to offer, then walked away without a backward glance.
To say he was scared of his reaction to Kazz was an understatement. He was terrified of having his heart broken again, doubtful that he would be able to piece it back together a second time. But he hadn’t been able to get her out of his mind. These past three days she had hijacked his thoughts, haunting him, making him restless and unable to think straight. Since Joelle had dumped him, no other woman had had such an effect. No other woman had come close. But Kazz was worming her way into his life, whether she was aware of it or not, whether he wanted her to or not.
Saul had a theory about this. Spending hours on mundane tasks around the farm over the past two days had given him plenty of time to think, and he had arrived at the conclusion that, due to his vow to knock dating on the head, instead of jumping headlong into a relationship (albeit one that would invariably turn out to be brief), he had got to know Kazz as a friend first.
He’d had absolutely no designs on her whatsoever when they’d met, and despite being attracted to her, he hadn’t wavered from that. Not even when he’d promised himself he would show her the fun side of Tanglewood. But he had got to know her, and that was what was different this time.
It did make him wonder whether he had been unfair to all the women he had dated since Joelle. He had been more interested in having a good time than having a relationship, and had always turned tail and run before there was any chance of that happening.
Yet here he was, hoisted by his own petard. By crying off women, he had allowed one to slip through a chink in his armour, and now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He brought the tractor to a halt, jumped down from the cab and opened the gate.
A flock of woolly faces looked up expectantly. The ewes had been grazing, but the noise of the engine alerted them that breakfast was imminent, and they trotted towards him en masse. Saul made them wait until he had got back in the cab and manoeuvred the silage into position over a round metal cage, then he jumped down again, took out his Stanley knife and sliced the bale open, letting the contents fall out to fill the feeder.
The ewes got stuck in eagerly, jostling for position and knocking each other out of the way.
‘You’re welcome,’ he said sarcastically as one particularly determined sheep barged past, totally ignoring him.
Saul froze as the realisation struck him that he was totally ignoring Kazz . By trying to give himself some distance, he hadn’t contacted her, but now he felt a right heel. What must she think of his radio silence? Oh, God, he hoped she didn’t think he’d only been after one thing, and that because he hadn’t got it, he was ghosting her.
Saul felt awful. He knew he had a reputation as a tomcat, but it pained him that Kazz might think the worst of him.
He watched the ewes tucking into their breakfast for a while, knowing he should contact her but not knowing what to say.
Then it came to him; there was usually live music on at The White Rock in Abergavenny on a Saturday. The bar was the liveliest in the town, so it should be fun.
After a quick check on their website to make sure that the band performing wasn’t too outlandish, he made a decision – he would ring Kazz and ask whether she fancied a night out this weekend.
When Saul phoned and asked whether she would like to go to Abergavenny with him on Saturday to watch a live band, Kazz accepted, but with a proviso: ‘Only if you let me cook dinner tonight.’
Then she’d cringed because, to her ears, she’d sounded overeager. She could have at least said Friday. But, oh no, she’d had to say tonight .
He hesitated and she could almost hear the cogs turning in his brain as he thought of a reason to say no, so she was surprised when he agreed.
Kazz was in two minds about whether to pull out all the stops and cook him something mind-blowing. She was tempted, and he deserved it for all the help and support he’d given her, but she didn’t want him to think she was showing off.
It was only while she dithered and dallied at the butcher’s, after shutting the shop for a couple of minutes, that she decided what the heck – she was a chef by trade and a damned good one. She wouldn’t be showing off or trying to make an impression, she would be creating the best possible food, as she always did. That she would be preparing it in the little kitchen in Stevie’s old flat and not in a restaurant kitchen with seventy or so diners, who had sophisticated palates, was neither here nor there.
After making a few quick purchases, she hurried to the flat to pop everything in the fridge, then raced back to the bookshop.
‘Sorry, sorry,’ she apologised to the disgruntled couple who had been pushing and pulling the door. ‘I had a few errands to run and I wanted to get to the butcher before all the best cuts had gone.’
The woman sniffed loudly and stalked inside when Kazz held the door open for her, but her partner gave her a sympathetic smile.
‘When I opened my barbershop, many moons ago now, I ran it all by myself, so I know what it’s like.’ He leant in and whispered, ‘Trying to find time to pop to the loo was the worst.’
Kazz giggled. It certainly was. She hated leaving the shop floor unattended for a quick comfort break, but sometimes she had no choice.
‘You’ve not been here long, have you?’ he asked, as his wife wandered around, removing titles from the shelves and squinting at them, before putting them back again.
‘I opened a couple of weeks ago,’ she said. ‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’
‘I’m a bit of a collector, so I’m always on the lookout for anything unusual. Do you mind if I have a browse?’
‘Of course not! Browse away.’ She left him to it and retreated behind the counter to run through the list of ingredients for the meal she planned to cook this evening, checking that she had everything she needed.
Her heart kept missing a beat every time she thought of Saul and if she was honest, her mind wasn’t strictly on the food…
‘I’ll take this one,’ her customer said, and she was brought back to earth with a jolt.
As she wrapped the book, while waiting for the payment to go through, the man’s wife said, ‘Do you purchase books at all?’
‘Not now, Helen,’ the chap said.
‘When?’ she demanded. ‘You can’t keep buying more, unless you’re prepared to get rid of some.’ She said to Kazz, ‘I was hoping you were closed, because my husband has a serious book-buying addiction. The house is full of the damned things. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve nothing against books. I even enjoy a good classic myself, although I’m not so keen on Nigel Balchin.’
Kazz grinned. ‘Not many people are.’
The woman continued, ‘I’ve told him a hundred times that he has to let some of them go; so, do you buy books?’
‘It depends on what they are,’ Kazz replied cautiously. She was facing a dilemma of sorts: if she intended to make a proper go of the bookshop and for it to be a long-term thing, then she would need to source more stock. But if she intended to use this solely as an opportunity to get rid of her grandad’s books, it would be silly to acquire more.
‘He’d have to decide which ones would go and which ones he wants to keep,’ the woman said, tapping her chin with her fingers. ‘That’s not going to be an easy task.’
‘I tell you what,’ Kazz said. ‘Give me a ring after Christmas, when you’ve had the chance to have a good sort-out. We can have a chat about it then.’
And by then, she might have a better idea of whether the bookshop would be viable, and if it was, whether keeping it open was something she wanted to do.
She gave the couple her mobile number and wished them a merry Christmas as they went on their way, then she pushed thoughts of the future to the back of her mind for the time being.
Her lease wasn’t due up until the second week in January. She would think about it later. Right now, she had a meal to plan and a date with Saul to look forward to.
Bloody hell, this woman could seriously cook! Saul’s tongue was in shock and his stomach was very happy indeed.
Kazz had fed him a starter of artichoke soup with brown bread and thyme butter, and he had savoured every mouthful, wishing there had been more of it. But by the time he had eaten dessert, after a main course of pork chop with grilled spring onions and mustard sauce, he was wishing he hadn’t indulged quite so much.
‘I’ve got a cheese board and some home-made biscuits to go with it, if you’d like,’ she said.
Saul groaned and rubbed his overfull belly. ‘I couldn’t manage another thing.’
‘How about me?’ she offered.
Saul blinked, shock flashing through him.
God, yes.
He swallowed, desire jabbing him in the gut.
‘Breakfast or herbal?’ she continued. ‘I’ve got all kinds of flavours, courtesy of Stevie.’
Saul blinked again, but this time it was due to the realisation that he had heard her wrong. She’d said tea . How about tea .
‘Peppermint or chamomile is good after a meal, to aid digestion,’ she told him.
‘Chamomile is fine.’ His voice came out an octave higher than normal and he cleared his throat. Was there a tea to cure unexpected lust or acute embarrassment? Thank goodness he hadn’t done or said anything before he’d realised what she’d meant. He would have made a right tit of himself.
‘Go sit on the sofa. I’ll bring it over.’
‘What about the washing-up?’
‘I’ll do it later,’ she said, collecting the pudding dishes and carrying them out to the little kitchen.
Saul used the opportunity to visit the bathroom and splash cold water on his face. A few minutes to collect himself wouldn’t go amiss, either. Aside from almost making the biggest fool of himself ever, what unsettled him the most was how much he wanted to make love to her. The ache to hold her in his arms and kiss her until she was breathless was real. The remembered taste of the whisky on her lips, the softness of her body as he’d lowered her gently onto the rug, the feel of her cold hand on the superheated skin of his back…
Saul rested his hands on the washbasin and leant his forehead against the mirror above it. He was going to have to find some way of controlling his raging libido, because he was fairly certain she didn’t feel the same about him. She hadn’t given him the tiniest hint this evening that she was interested in him. It was as though the kiss had never happened, and he assumed she was regretting it.
He knew he was, but only because he wanted to do it again and again. He didn’t want to stop at her mouth; he wanted to kiss her all over.
When he emerged from the bathroom, it was to find Kazz curled up on the sofa. She had taken off her chef’s whites and removed the Crocs she’d worn while she was cooking. Her feet were now encased in fluffy socks, her head rested on the back of the cushion and her eyes were closed. Two cups of steaming tea sat on the low coffee table, and music played softly in the background. A pair of lamps gave the room a gentle warm glow.
Kazz looked the picture of relaxation.
Saul was as far from relaxed as he had ever been.
‘Come sit down,’ she said, without opening her eyes. She patted the sofa next to her.
He walked across the room and perched gingerly on the edge of the seat. He didn’t want to sit back into the cushion because if he did, they would be touching, and he didn’t think he could stand it.
What was wrong with him? Had she fed him oysters and he hadn’t realised?
‘Are you OK?’ she asked. Her eyes were open now and she was gazing at him with concern.
‘I’m fine,’ he said.
‘Are you sure? You look strange.’
‘Thanks!’
‘Like you’ve eaten something that didn’t agree with you.’ Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘Was the food OK?’
‘The food was fabulous. The best I’ve ever eaten.’
‘What, then? Do you want to go? I won’t be upset if you want to eat and leave.’
‘That’s the problem: I don’t want to go – but I think I should, before I do something we’ll both regret.’
Her eyes darkened, and her lips parted slightly. They were full and pink, and oh so tempting.
In a voice so soft he could barely hear her, she said, ‘ I won’t regret it.’
Oh, God. He drew in a shaky breath. ‘I would,’ he said.
Her hurt gasp punched him in the gut, and he hurried to explain, ‘You don’t deserve to be treated the way I treat women.’
‘Bed them and run, you mean?’
‘I’m not proud of it.’
‘Yet you do it anyway. I’m a big girl, Saul. I know what you’re like.’
‘But that’s it, I don’t want to be like that anymore.’
‘What do you want?’
Saul couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know himself. All he knew was that he couldn’t carry on the way things were. Something had to give, and he’d tried the no-dating thing but all that had happened was that he was in more of a mess than he’d been in before.
Then he made it worse by kissing her again.