‘Oh, Tamara. You’re worse than I was.’ Melissa gave her a shove. ‘First, make him regret pissing you off and then make him beg. Go on.’
Pulling back her shoulders, she headed towards Gage. It childishly boosted her ego when he spotted her and turned pale.Regret, then beg.She repeated the words like a mantra.
* * *
He wasn’t sorry to see the crowd had tapered off and was down to the last few stragglers. His aching knee was making its presence known now. About an hour ago, Tamara had marched over to him like an avenging Valkyrie. She’d shoved him towards the high stool they’d bought for behind the counter, pithily telling him that it hadn’t had any use today. Then she’d stated in no uncertain terms that she’d stand there and take the money while he wrapped people’s purchases.
‘You should be able to manage now while I start tidying the shelves. I don’t know about you, but I’m knackered. We can come in tomorrow to restock for Monday.’
‘Can we talk?’ he asked.
‘What do you think we’re doing now? Playing chess? Ice skating?’
Gage cleared his dry throat. ‘I’ve been a stubborn idiot.’
Tamara folded her arms across her body as if to ward him off. Unfortunately, that tightened the dress over her generous breasts and lifted them to his direct line of vision. Gage’s onlysaving grace was the fact he was sitting behind the till, so he could shift around on the stool to minimise his discomfort. As their eyes met, her triumph was unmistakable.
‘I won’t argue with that.’
‘Didn’t think you would. You caught me off guard.’ She opened her mouth to speak, but he pre-empted her. ‘But that’s no excuse for how rude I was to you.’
‘You’re right it’s not.’
‘Do you think we can stop being—’
‘Childish?’ Tamara gave a wry smile. ‘I think so.’ She stuck out her hand. ‘Friends again?’
As they exchanged a firm handshake, he was hyper-aware of her warm skin and subtle perfume. ‘Yeah.’ He longed to ask what the chance was of moving to a little warmer than ‘friends’, but didn’t have the nerve.
‘We’ll see, Gage, okay? Let’s take it slow.’
A flush of heat prickled his neck. She’d read him like the proverbial book from day one.
‘I’m sorry, but I can’t stay any longer tonight. Melissa’s on her own because Nathan’s playing amateur psychologist to Quinten again, so I’m going over for a girly chat.’
‘About useless men?’
Her chin tilted. ‘I’m sure we’ll have a meaningful discussion about a wide range of subjects.’ A giggle slipped out. ‘And drown our sorrows in chardonnay. Hopefully I won’t be too hungover in the morning because I know Pixie wants to get the Christmas decorations up after we’ve finished serving the Sunday roasts.’
‘Already? It’s only the eighth of November.’
‘I know but it gets customers in the festive mood, which means more sales, so it’s good for business. You need to think about decorating here too. I had a few ideas today, so we can talk about them tomorrow.’
‘Yeah, sounds good.’
Gage was sorry to see a customer approaching the counter, forcing an end to the conversation. A tiny seed of hope lodged in his gut that if he didn’t mess up again, Tamara might give him a second chance.
Chapter Fifteen
According to Gage’s personal weather forecasting system — his aching knee — it would start raining soon. He made sure Evelyn’s precious book was safely wrapped in plastic before he stepped outside and locked the shop for the night. The short walk up to her house would be good exercise for his knee. He crossed the road and noticed someone had been busy. The shop window display had plunged headlong into Christmas. No doubt that was the plucky Chloe’s doing. She cheerfully browbeat Vernon on a regular basis and used his tiny shop as a place to experiment with the modern business practices she was studying at uni.
Fairy lights twinkled around a veritable festive wonderland. The chubby red Father Christmas in the middle was surrounded by slightly manic-eyed elves. What Gage assumed to be a snowman naturally turned out to be a snowwoman, and she was surrounded by dancing candy canes. Heaping piles of fake snow showed off boxes of mince pies, chocolates and the fancy tins of biscuits no self-respecting British family celebrated the season without. Encouraging people to buy locally this early, before they started hauling things home from the supermarkets, was a smart move.
All this gave Gage a sharp nudge. Tamara was right. He should get cracking himself on that score. According to his independent bookseller group, this was the crucial time to maximise profits in the run-up to the new-year slump. In January, no one had money to splurge on non-necessities, although he would personally argue books were crucial to life, and the weather was usually against casual shoppers.
He reached the little white bungalow and was about to ring the doorbell when he noticed the door was ajar. Raised voices drifted out.
‘You’re a liar!’ Evelyn yelled. ‘I know Sam wasn’t perfect but he would never—’
