The look that crosses his face makes my knees go weak, and he kisses me again, deeper this time, one hand tangled in my hair while the other settles on my waist, his thumb tracing small circles that make me shiver despite the warm evening air.
My fingers claw into his shoulders as I gasp against his mouth, his leg pressing between mine, and the space between us feels alight with everything we’ve been building towards, and it’s intoxicating in the sexiest way possible.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing so hard that I’m not sure I’ll ever catch my breath again. His forehead drops to rest against mine, his chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon, and it gives me a little shiver of pleasure thatIhave had that effect on him.
‘That was…’ I start, then trail off, unable to find any words to accurately describe that kiss.
‘Overdue,’ he says with a smile that’s both soft and sizzling.
‘Very overdue.’
We both giggle and the next kiss is just a peck, followed by a groan. ‘We’re going to have to move, aren’t we?’ He pushes himself upright and I have to peel myself off Campervan where I’ve melted against her yellow side.
Reece doesn’t let go of my hand as he surveys the chaos that needs clearing up. ‘That looks like something that can wait until morning. Right now, I want to put my pyjamas on and collapse on your sofa for the evening. And maybe dothatagain… Any objections?’
‘None whatsoever. But only if you’ve got a pair ofverybright trousers to put on.’
He laughs and pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly and rocking us both from side to side, and I exhale and let my head lean against his chest, and let everything go. I breathe out all the uncertainty and worry and betrayal that came before, and embrace whatever it is that comes next with this gorgeous man.
Darkness is starting to fall, and the strings of solar lights that I’ve strung between the van and the tree burst into life, creating a warm, magical glow around the car park. This feeling is all I’ve ever wanted, and I think this might be the most perfect moment of my life.
20
A couple of mornings later, I get the sense that something’s happening when I serve tea to more people before ten o’clock than I usually see in an entire day, and fend off multiple enquiries about booking a table for the next quiz night.
I tell myself that the foreboding sense of unease is for nothing, and it’ll just be because of Lettie telling everyone who goes into the village shop, as she said she would.
‘Excuse me, are you the lady from the video?’ A woman in her thirties has come up to the window and ordered tea and a slice of cherry Bakewell cake, but instead of looking like she’s going on a walk, she’s got a selfie stick, a portable ring light and such heavy make-up that she looks like she’s going to a photoshoot.
‘Video?’ I pause with the kettle mid-pour halfway to her cup.
‘The Marzipan Campervan quiz night! My mum shared it on Facebook, and seeing as I only live two hours away, I simply had to come and see for myself! Can you do the “Hello, Dolly!” thing for my Instagram channel?’
‘What?’ I ask. It’s one word that encompasses many questions. What video? What ‘Hello, Dolly’ thing? What Instagram channel?
‘Oh, never mind, we’ll just get a selfie! Smile!’
Before I realise what’s happening, she’s posed in front of the van and snapped a photo with her selfie stick with my confused face peering out of the window behind her.
‘Ta! This cake had better be good, all my followers are dying to know if it’s as amazing as it looks!’
I feel like I’ve woken up in a different reality. ‘Did you say you’ve driven for two hours just to come here?’
‘Of course! Everyone’s talking about this place! It’s soooo cute!’
‘Thank you… I think.’ I force a smile and finish making her tea and cutting her an extra-large slice of cake, lest any Instagram followers think badly of me, and she wanders off to sit at a table, extracts her phone from the selfie stick, and pushes the cake around her plate to arrange it in the most photogenic way.
The whole encounter weighs on me uneasily. Why on earth is anybody’s mum sharing something about me on Facebook? I know Lettie was wandering around with a camera, but she said it was just a few photos and clips for their 225 subscribers. Mums sharing and Instagram followers seems bigger than that.
I intend to have a look online, but the morning ends up being too busy to take a breath. Never mind googling Thimblenouth’s social media, I’m trying to make a batch of Melting Moments with one hand while serving customers with the other, and there really does seem to be an influx of visitors who are not walkers at all, but are coming solely to visithere.
Reece comes down from the pub to help when he spots how busy things are, but the cakes are gone and the next batch isn’t out of the oven yet, and I’m getting so concerned about the chatter I overhear that I close the serving hatch for a desperately needed break.
I sit down while Reece clears tables and turns customers away. Six weeks ago, I would never have dreamed of being busy enough to turn customersaway, but this is more than that. People are cooing over the van and taking photos of it. Reece has chased away a young couple posing in front of it. Photos like that end up on the internet, and photos ofthisvan on the internet would be averybad thing.
I’ve barely used my new phone, but while I wait for the oven timer to ding, I find the browser and do a search for ‘Marzipan Campervan quiz night’, expecting to be directed to Lettie’s post on the village’s social media account. I’m definitelynotexpecting the barrage of results that fill my phone screen.
Headlines. There are headlines. I stare at the phone in horror.
