‘People with taste.’ He grinned, setting down a heaped plate in front of her before taking a seat across from her. ‘You don’t know what you’re missing.’
She simply raised an eyebrow and dug in. As she chewed, she found herself thinking about London, about her sleek, minimalist flat and the constant hum of the city. She should be missing it, shouldn’t she? But instead, she felt oddly settled here.
Daniel watched her for a moment before clearing his throat. ‘So, I know you’re still set on selling the shop…’
She swallowed, glancing up warily. ‘That’s my plan.’
‘Right… But I’ve been thinking.’
‘Definitely dangerous.’
‘What if… now, hear me out…what if you don’t put it up for sale? Not for a month.’
‘Why?’
‘Because I think I can make it work. If I can bring in enough sales to keep this place afloat, would you consider keeping it?’
Fern hesitated, studying him. He looked serious, hopeful even, but there was something else in his expression… determination.
‘In the past few weeks you’ve sold one porcelain doll.’
‘Give me a chance! Matilda gave me a chance. I want to do this for her. I know how much she loved this place.’
Fern studied him closely. He was deadly serious. ‘You really think you can make a difference in a month?’ she asked, watching him closely as he tucked into his breakfast, which she had to admit was probably the best breakfast she had ever tasted.
Daniel wasn’t like anyone she had ever met before. She thought about the type of men who usually crossed her path, the ones she dated. Their apartments were sleek, they booked tables at exclusive restaurants, ordering expensive bottles of champagne without even glancing at the price. Conversations revolved around stock markets, property investments and the latest tech start-ups they were backing. They were ambitious, successful and utterly predictable… and usually only lasted a couple of dates. Jax Devlin was the exception to the rule. With him, it was something that just happened every time he was in town.
‘But then what? You make it work for a month and then…’
He shrugged. ‘And then we have another chat.’
Fern couldn’t see anything changing enough in a month to make her change her mind. She wanted the property sold and money in the bank.
‘Give me a chance,’ he pleaded.
It had only been a couple of days, but the more time she spent in his presence, the more she felt herself being drawn to him in a way that both intrigued and terrified her. There was a rawness to him, a kind of natural charm that didn’t come from wealth or status but from simply being Daniel. She tried to think of the least snooty boyfriend she had ever had, and even he had owned a Rolex and once argued about a wine pairing he disagreed with at a Michelin-starred restaurant.
She sipped her tea, watching as Daniel smothered his entire plate in ketchup with reckless abandon.
‘I know I can do it.’ He smiled. ‘And, I mean, worst case scenario, you get to watch me fail spectacularly, and you still sell the place.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she promised.
‘You will?’
‘I will.’
They carried on eating, but Fern had an important question she needed to ask. Trying to sound uninterested, she dove in. ‘So… have you got anyone special in your life?’
He paused and looked up at her. ‘Nah. Why, you volunteering?’
‘Hardly,’ she scoffed. ‘I was just wondering what she’d think of us sharing a bed.’
He smirked, taking a sip of his coffee before speaking. ‘Well, considering she doesn’t exist, I reckon she’d be surprisingly chill about it.’
Fern rolled her eyes. ‘You’re impossible.’
‘No, I’m just saying. If I had a girlfriend, she’d obviously be cool as hell and totally fine with me shacking up with a stranger in my haunted museum of a home. Probably even encourage it.’ He grinned. ‘That’s how I’d know she was the one.’
