I should have played it cool and professional, but a part of me that was feeling just a little vulnerable liked that there was at least one person who was concerned about what I was doing – even if it was only in passing.
‘I have to,’ I managed to mumble through my scarf. ‘It’s an emergency.’
‘What kind of emergency?’ He followed me towards the door as I waddled my way over.
‘A mince pie emergency.’
‘No.’ He shook his head.
‘No?’ My eyebrows nearly disappeared under my woolly hat.
‘There’s no such thing as a mince pie emergency,’ he elaborated. ‘A mince pie is a luxury seasonal dessert-slash-snack. Nothing to do with a mince pie could be an emergency.’
‘What if someone were choking on one?’
‘That would be a medical emergency, rather than a mince pie emergency.’ He frowned. ‘Issomeone choking on one?’
‘Yes, that’s why I’m going out for a walk.’ I yanked my scarf down so that he could better hear my sarcasm. ‘I thought it was best to go fetch a doctor rather than perform the Heimlich manoeuvre.’
‘So, that’s a “no” then.’ He was biting back a smile and I wanted so much to enjoy a little banter with him, to coax that smile out further—
No, Beth, no!I had too much to do and I couldn’t let myself be distracted.
‘Look, it may not be a nuclear-power-plant-exploding type of emergency, but I have two dozen guests expecting a special mince pie and mulled wine evening in less than three hours’ time and I haven’t got any mince pies because our chef is…not here. So I’m going to have to go into the village and try to find enough to feed everyone so I can get back and mull some wine, and set up the bar and put on a cocktail dress and dig out the Michael Bublé CD and host a stupid-festive-heart-warming-gathering, okay?’
My chest was heaving by the time I was done word-vomiting on him and I was beginning to burn up in all my layers.
He blinked at me and then scratched the curl of blond hair at his temple with his thumb. ‘Okay. I hear you. Just…um…why don’t you make some?’
‘Make them? I don’t have time tomakethem…do I?’
‘I don’t think pastry takes that long. It’s pretty basic ingredients, so long as you have the stuff that goes inside.’
‘I’ve got truckloads ofthat. Can you make pastry?’ I grabbed both his arms and was almost too excited about the prospect of my problem being solved to appreciate how firm they felt, even through his shirt and my gloves.
‘No,’ his mouth ticked up at the corner, ‘but I know a woman who can.’
I was just unwinding the last scarf from my neck when Nick’s nan breezed into the kitchen with her gorgeous grandson just behind her.
‘Nicky tells me you’re having a culinary crisis. Where are all the other staff?’
‘Ill or stranded,’ I admitted. Seeing as I wanted this woman’s help, it really didn’t seem worth it to lie. ‘At the moment I have Elise, who was waitressing at lunch, but she’s leaving in about half an hour. Our other chef should be in tomorrow morning, as long as she doesn’t get stranded too.’ I tried to say this in my most matter-of-fact voice while I fetched the spare wooden bar stool we kept in the kitchen and motioned for Dorie to sit. ‘I’d really appreciate it if you could keep this to yourselves as well. I don’t think most of the guests would be keen to hear this hotel is a one-woman show.’
I could feel Nick’s eyes on me and when I glanced at him, he was frowning and biting his lip.
The possibility that he was the Hotel Hopper popped into my brain but it was too late to worry about that. I was on a damage-limitation manoeuvre now and it was a risk I needed to take.
Dorie hopped up on the stool and crossed her legs.
‘Oh, don’t worry about that. Now, Nicky said you need to make some pastry. How many mince pies are we talking about?’
‘I dunno.’ I looked up at the ceiling, mentally trying to count up all the guests and how many mince pies they might like to eat. ‘Maybe…four dozen?’ My voice went a little squeaky at the end.
‘We’ll make six dozen just in case they get greedy. You can always freeze the leftovers.’ Her assessing gaze roved over the cupboards. ‘I’m sure you’ll have everything we need.’
‘Thank you.’ I directed the thanks at her but took another look at Nick who was rubbing the back of his neck and still frowning at me. I wished he would stop looking all brooding; it did nothing to help my concentration. ‘I’ll make sure you get a discount for your stay—’
‘Don’t be silly.’ Dorie waved away the suggestion. ‘Just bring in a bottle of red to keep my throat lubricated while I give you the instructions and we’ll be all square.’
