‘Isn’t he a sight for sore eyes? He looks like he has everything going for him,’ remarked Betty before turning back into the café.
‘He’s a food journalist, in fact more like a food presenter these days,’ replied Clemmie.
‘What’s his name?’ asked Betty.
‘Oliver Lockwood.’
Betty straightened, her face lighting up with recognition. ‘Oliver Lockwood? Well, now, I’ve heard that name somewhere recently. That’s him? I wish I’d known. I could have introduced myself.’
‘What do you mean, “That’s him”?’
‘He’s presenting The Royal Baking Competition special.’
Clemmie’s stomach dropped. She stared at Betty, dread creeping over her like a tide. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes, it’s all over social media and I was going to ask whether you’d heard of him. By the way, Sam is going to set up a huge screen on the jetty outside The Sea Glass Restaurant so everyone in the village can sit on the beach and watch it live.’
Clemmie didn’t answer. Her mind was racing. This couldn’t be happening. Oliver Lockwood was going to present The Royal Baking Competition?
Clemmie’s hands trembled as she pulled her phone from her pocket, her fingers fumbling to unlock it. A few taps and a search later, the headline stared back at her in bold black text:
Oliver Lockwood Confirmed as Host for This Year’s Royal Baking Competition, to be held aboard the Royal Yacht at Puffin Island
Her heart sank. ‘Shit,’ she muttered, her pulse pounding as she scanned the article until her eye caught on a single sentence that made the whole situation irrevocably worse:Oliver will accompany the winner of The Royal Baking Competition to this year’s Royal Garden Party. Double shit.
‘Do you think he’s married? I didn’t see a ring. The looks, the career and the car…’ Betty chuckled softly. ‘You should get in there!’
Clemmie barely heard her. All she could think about was that the man she had tried so hard to forget was now back in her orbit, and all those long-suppressed feelings were quickly rising to the surface.
The realisation hit harder than the headline and was an even more unwelcome surprise.
Chapter Three
The Olde Ship Inn was bustling but Clemmie and Amelia had managed to snag a cosy booth near the window, their table already laden with a plate of fish and chips and two glasses of wine. Clemmie was sipping her Sauvignon Blanc when the door creaked open and she flinched, already bracing herself for the worst.
Amelia picked up her wine glass, her gaze fixed on Clemmie. ‘Why do you keep jumping every time the door opens?’
‘I don’t.’
‘You totally do,’ Amelia retorted, her grin widening. ‘Are you avoiding someone? Or has some mysterious stranger swept you off your feet?’ She gasped theatrically. ‘Oh my God, is it the guy from the cheese counter at the market? Iknewthere was chemistry between you two!’
Clemmie rolled her eyes, though she couldn’t suppress a laugh. ‘Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not the cheese guy.’
‘So, itissomeone,’ Amelia said, leaning forward eagerly. ‘Go on, I’m listening.’
Clemmie hesitated, her cheeks flushing. ‘It’s… complicated.’
‘Oh, this is going to be good.’
Clemmie sighed, taking a fortifying sip of wine before muttering, ‘It’s Oliver.’
‘Oliver? Oliver who?’
Clemmie gave her a knowing look.
‘Oh my God, as intheOliver? Tall, dark and devastatingly handsome Oliver? Great sex Oliver? A week of passion Oliver? “He’s the one” Oliver?’
‘Okay, let’s not go overboard. But yes, that Oliver,’ Clemmie confirmed, her body erupting in goosebumps at the very thought of being wrapped up in his arms once more.
