He swung open a door to reveal the bedroom. The first thing she saw? The moose head.It loomed above the four-poster bed, with its enormous glass eyes staring straight into her soul.
‘Oh my God,’ she gasped. ‘How do you sleep with that looking at you?’
‘Usually with both eyes closed.’ He grinned. ‘Let me introduce you to Maurice! He’s been here longer than me. Great listener, this one.’
Fern dragged her horrified gaze around the room.
The bed anchored the room and was ornate and wooden, the kind of gothic four-poster that suggested those who dared to sleep in it might mysteriously perish in the night. And worst of all? It was theonlybed.
Fern turned to Daniel. ‘Is there another bedroom?’
‘Nope.’ He smiled widely. ‘This is the only one. But it’sveryspacious. Loads of room,’ he said, gesturing grandly.
‘You are notsuggesting we…’ Her mouth fell open as she struggled to find the words.
‘Come now, we’re hardly strangers! We own the same shop and?—’
‘Er, I hate to burst your bubble,’ she interrupted, ‘but I’m Matilda’s sole beneficiary and so the sole owner of all of this. And as much as you’re gorgeous…’ She faltered as her thoughts turned in a very inappropriate direction, but then shook her head. She couldn’t go there now! ‘…There is no way I’m sleeping with you. Or with a moose watching over me!’
Before he could reply, she yanked open another door to what turned out to be the bathroom, and shrieked. (This shop was not doing her vocal cords any favours.)
‘What isthat?’ she asked, staring at the bathtub, which was currently occupied by a creepy Victorian-age mannequin.
Daniel stuck his head around the door, looking completely unfazed. ‘That’s Eleanor!’
Fern’s eye twitched. ‘Why is there a mannequin in the bathtub?’
‘Matilda used to have her in the shop to model clothes, but they became very attached and so Matilda moved her up here. She said they were like best friends, and Eleanor kept the place from feeling lonely at night. I just haven’t yet got round to moving her.’
Fern clutched the doorframe, taking deep breaths.
‘I need a drink,’ she muttered.
Daniel clapped his hands together. ‘Brilliant! There’s a pub down the road. We’ll celebrate your newly inherited business and home, and you can tell me all about how excited you are to be my new housemate.’
‘I won’t be here long enough to be your housemate, and I’ll have to give the pub a miss. I’m off to grab a bed at the local B&B.’
‘You won’t find anything as good as this place.’
‘I’ll take my chances.’
As she followed Daniel down the stairs, dodging thetraitorousfourth step, she caught herself smiling.Because, somehow, against all odds, Daniel had made this place feel almost magical, and she didn’t hateit as much as she’d wanted to.
ChapterSix
Fern stepped out of No. 17 Curiosity Lane and headed down the lane pulling her suitcase behind her. As it rattled along the uneven cobblestones, she inhaled a lungful of crisp, sea-salted air. It was very welcome compared to the scent of old books and antique dust, which were definitely not her usual vibe. She had spent her career flitting between backstage lounges, five-star suites and first-class flights, sipping champagne that cost more than some people’s rent. She wasn’t proud of it, but she could admit that she was a snob, and she would never in a million years dream about sleeping in a shared bed with a stranger in a flat that looked like a cross between a haunted museum and a taxidermist’s fever dream. Having standards didn’t make her a bad person, it just meant she knew what she liked, and she definitely didn’t like the idea of sharing a lumpy bed with a stranger, with a moose’s head looming over her. Even if that stranger happened to be ridiculously good-looking.
Daniel was firmly on her mind. He had the kind of charm that made him seem like he belonged on magazine covers, not behind the counter of a dusty antique shop. He should have been striding down a New York catwalk, not fixing wobbly shelves and rearranging creepy porcelain dolls. It didn’t make sense to her. Why would someone like him choose to live and work in a place like that?
As she walked along the path with the distant sound of waves rolling against the shore, she let herself imagine an alternative reality. One where, perhaps, she wouldn’t mind sharing a bed with Daniel, though in a hotel suite with Egyptian cotton sheets and a champagne room-service menu, of course. But there? In that flat? Absolutely not. With a shake of her head, she pressed on towards the B&B. Some things were non-negotiable.
The Puffin Island B&B was a quaint two-storey building with ivy-clad walls and a bright, welcoming red door. A small brass sign beside said door read: The Driftwood Lodge B&B. This was exactly what Fern needed: a quiet, sensible, normal place to stay. Then she saw the sign.
NO VACANCIES.
She froze, suitcase handle clenched in her fist. Oh, come on. Maybe it was a mistake. Maybe the sign was decorative, meant to make the place feel exclusive. Yes, that had to be it.
Not one to be easily deterred, she pushed open the door and stepped inside. The interior was as charming as the exterior, with wooden beams, floral wallpaper and an assortment of knick-knacks that made the place feel lived in and cosy. There was also the comforting sight of quaint armchairs, and an elderly Labrador snoring near the reception desk. Behind the desk stood a woman who immediately smiled. She was kind-looking with bobbed hair, glasses perched on her nose, and a cardigan that suggested she’d perfected the art of cosy living. ‘Hi there, I’m Lena, can I help you?’
