“Oh, why do I do it?” he said, covering his face with his hands. “I just wanted a quiet lunch with you, but I panicked when I saw Ryan and Martha outside with you, and I didn’t know what to do, and so I ended up inviting them on our date.” He wiped his hands on his napkin. “Carlton is very pushy.”
“You panicked us into a double date with my mum’s best friend and her son.”
Warren laughed, and nodded. “That’s exactly what I did. And then I said all the wrong things…” He put his head back in his hands. “This really isn’t going how I wanted it to.”
“How did you want it to go?”
He looked up at her with big appealing eyes.
“With us getting to know each other better, and you deciding that you’re as attracted to me as I am to you.”
Oh!Goodness, he was sweet when he wasn’t being ridiculous. Maybe she shouldn’t write him off romantically just yet.
She met his gaze and held it. “If you could leave Carlton at home for the next couple of dates, I reckon I’ll be able to catch up.”
His answering smile was all relief and gratitude. “I think I can manage that.”
The rest of the date was a delight. When Cherry handed him the bill, with half the cost of what they’d eaten deducted from the total—just as Warren had implied it would be—he insisted on paying full price. He wouldn’t hear of Fred paying her half, and he left a healthy tip. By the time they left the restaurant, Cherry was completely smitten with him.
They walked back to the Crooked Elm the long way around, wandering through the market, their conversation relaxed now that they were alone again. Warren wanted toget his notes about the meal down while they were still fresh in his head, and Fred had promised to take over from her mum at the hut at half past three. She was glad to have an excuse not to accompany him to his room when he asked if she’d like a coffee first. Instead, they enjoyed a stolen kiss by the back stairs that would keep her buzzing nicely for the rest of the afternoon. And not even the smarmy know-it-all git who suggested their crackers were probably made by exploited workers in India, or the lager lout who made a point of shouting in at her as he marched past the hut, “Smile, love, it might never ’appen!” could pop the perfectly lovely snog-bubble she was watching the world through.
14
Friday, December 6
“And how is Warren?” Ryanasked on Friday morning, as he wiped down the top of the coffee machine with a damp cloth.
Mina rolled her eyes and carried on refilling the shelves with bags of beans.
Fred had brought her laptop into town to start creating a marketing strategy that they could use across the Hallow-Hart Crackers socials. She’d popped into Coast Roast to get a takeaway coffee and ended up working on a barstool at the counter.
“Good, I think,” she said, absently. “I haven’t seen him in a few days. I’ve been designing the new website and he’s been working on his article, plus he has other smaller pieces to get in to his editor. I think he picks up a lot of the slack for other journalists on the paper who aren’t as conscientious as he is.”
“Right.”
Fred looked up from her screen. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.”
“No, it definitely meant something.”
Mina shook her head. “Here we go. Fred, you might be the one seeing Warren, but I’m the one who has to listen to Ryan moaning about him all the damn day long.”
“I see.” Fred’s hackles rose just the teensiest bit.
“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Well, thank you, that’s very kind of you. But I’m a grown woman, so…”
Ryan looked up at the ceiling and scrubbed his hand through his hair. “Do you actually like him?” he asked.
“Umm, yeah, I think so. But you clearly don’t.”
“It doesn’t matter if I like him, I’m not the one dating him.”
“So, you don’t like him.”
“Like I said, it’s not about me.”
