The barman smiled over Fred’s shoulder and replied, “As a matter of fact, this lady here would like a word with you.”
Fred turned to see a tall man with short blond hair and a smile that could melt chocolate. He was smartly dressedin black jeans, a black overcoat and a green sweater, and when their eyes met, Fred thought she heard the fruit machine in the corner play the jackpot tune of its own accord.
“Warren Reeves?” she asked, hesitantly. Maybe getting the wrong mail wasn’t such a bad thing after all.
“That’s me,” he replied, still smiling. “You wouldn’t happen to be Fredricka Hallow-Hart, would you?”
Bingo!
She pulled the brown envelope out of her bag in response and held it up. “I think we got each other’s letters.”
“I think you’re right,” he said as he moved toward her with his hand outstretched for her to shake. “Good to meet you, Fredricka.” His accent was East London, but the cut of his clothes was Chelsea all the way, and the combination was having rather a strange effect on her.
“Fred,” she said. “Everyone calls me Fred.”
He screwed his face up, accentuating the lines at the corners of his eyes and mouth. “I’ve got an Uncle Fred,” he said. “He’s a tricky character and he’s not nearly as nice-looking as you, so if it’s all the same to you, I’ll call you Fredricka.” Then he cracked a smile that would have had Fred agreeing to almost anything.
“Of course,” she said, wondering if her cheeks were glowing as red as they felt.
Warren nodded as though they’d just struck a deal. “I’ll nip up to my room and grab your letter. Then maybe if you’re not busy you’ll allow me to buy you a coffee?”
She handed over his letter, nodding, and muttered, “Sure,”like she went out for coffee with random sexy strangers every damn day of the week. He ducked through a doorway—the doorway was small, and he was at least six feet tall—and left her standing by the bar. She had expected to simply swap letters and go about her day; the exchange hardly seemed to warrant a coffee. Then again, it wasn’t like she was in a hurry. At that, the door swung open again.
Warren handed over her own brown envelope and, with an apologetic expression, said, “Sorry about the redundancy. I couldn’t help but see the contents.”
She smiled ruefully as she took it from him. “Thanks. Sorry about your divorce.”
He shrugged. “It is what it is.” And then, seeming to sweep away gloomy thoughts, he motioned to the door and asked, “Shall we?”
Fred was thinking that she really ought to check over her documents, to be sure that everything was as it should be with the offer.
“I can wait, if that’s something you need to attend to?” he offered.
“It’s…it’s fine,” she said, pushing the envelope into her bag. “There’s no rush.” She’d only been waiting six months—meanwhile living off her now nonexistent savings—for her ex-employer to agree to her severance settlement.
“Good. You’ll have to guide me to the place that serves the best coffee. I’m new in town.”
“No pressure, then!” She grinned. “I only just arrived last night, I’m staying with family for a while, I used to live herea long time ago…I’m gabbling, what I’m trying to say is that my café knowledge might be a bit out of date.”
“Flying back to the nest, huh?”
“Something like that. It’s only temporary.”
“I won’t hold it against you,” he said, pulling open the heavy pub door and shouting back, “See ya later, Sam, yeah!”
Sam responded with a cheery wave and went back to his customers.
Back out on the street, three of the huts nearest the pub were now assembled and four more were going up fast. In terms of festive feel-good events, the Pine Bluff Christmas Market rivaled even those in Germany and Belgium.
“So, are you here for the market?” Fred asked.
“In a manner of speaking. I’m writing an article about it as part of a larger travel piece.”
“You’re a journalist?”
“Yeah, but I try and keep it on the down-low as much as possible.” He pulled his collar up around his ears, as though trying to hide his face, and Fred had to bite her lip to hide her smile. “It’s harder to get the scoop if people have their guard up.”
“Do they need to?”
