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Noémi’s stomach clenched. Couldn’t a woman pop down the road without the contents of her shopping becoming village bloody news? If he didn’t keep his voice down, it would end up on a blackboard or on one of Shay’s stupid fliers.

‘No,’ said Noémi, waving a hand. It was only three awards, and she’d probably just got lucky. ‘I mean, yes, I used to bake. But that was ages ago.’ She dropped to rescue her box, suddenly feeling hot and keen to escape.

‘Did you sell them in your shop?’ Shay asked. If his reindeer outfit had whiskers, they’d be twitching.

‘No,’ she replied, standing quickly and hugging the box to her, shaking off their offers to help.

‘Cookies probably aren’t the healthiest option, if people are sitting around reading all day,’ Shay replied, as though he was mulling it over. He checked his fitness watch, which he seemed to do almost subconsciously, and far too often, in Noémi’s opinion. It was rude – and so was his attitude to reading with good snacks.

‘Each to their own,’ said Noémi frostily, wondering what fitness-obsessed people like him ate, and indeed where he ate it – because he apparently hadn’t moved in above the shop. Not that she cared. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if he was on the other side of her bedroom wall, probably doing press-ups with one hand while drinking a protein shake from the other.

As she said a hasty goodbye to Texan Jim and tried to stroke Goatrude with her elbow, another group of people arrived outside Shay’s shop.

‘Our coach trip friends just told us about you,’ a young woman said to Shay, visibly swooning.

She looked to be in her early twenties and extremely pretty, but to Noémi’s slight surprise, Shay was charming as he greeted her without being flirty. Noémi had no idea why she’d bothered to assess it, except that passing him off as a philanderer would have felt like a win.

‘Real-life adventures are so now, aren’t they?’ said the pretty one, looking up at Shay’s shop sign. ‘There’s no better way to feel truly alive.’

‘Each to their own,’ said Shay, winking at Noémi as he mirrored her words. ‘Some people prefer reading. With or without seasonal bakes.’

Was he mocking her? His tone seemed jovial, but it was easy to look innocent when you were dressed as a four-legged festive deer.

‘Bookish people don’t just sit on their bottoms all day,’ she bit back. ‘We get out and about too.’ She turned to the group of potential shoppers. ‘Feel free to come into my bookshop to find out about our book club. We’re even considering walking tours around literary points of interest. Active and intellectually stimulating. Probably with snacks.’

What? Noémi had not planned to say that, nor to even offer such a thing. She didn’t need to look at Shay to guess his eyebrows were probably raised. She knew hers were. Well, two could play at customer stealing.

‘Sounds good,’ she heard Shay say. ‘Maybe I’ll come along.’

Oh God, no.

‘Spaces will be extremely limited,’ she replied, turning back to face him. ‘And definitely not your sort of thing.’

Shay shrugged. ‘Well, do consider mine.’ He popped some of his fliers into her box and she didn’t have a free hand to stop him. ‘I’m determined to get you along.’

‘I doubt it,’ Noémi replied, as jovially as she could in front of these nice people. ‘I’ll probably be far too busy selling lots of books and eating junk.’

She could have actually kissed Texan Jim’s prised goat when she made a loud bleating sound, nudged Shay in the crotch, and clamped her jaw around his handful of annoying leaflets. She just wished the goat could eat her own stupid words about offering walking book tours. What on earth was she going to do about that?

Updates to Noémi’s SOB List:

Try not to eat those damned Christmas cookies.

If anyone mentions walking tours, deny all knowledge and attempt to sell them lots of books instead.

Chapter 19

There was just one thing Noémi wanted to do before she drifted off to sleep that night. Well, maybe two. The first involved logging onto Never the Twain.

Book Girl:

It’s been a whirlwind of a day. Please say you’ll soothe my soul and talk to me about Christmas. Do you have your tree up yet? (Too early?) Tell me all the things you love about Christmas. And I hope that involves food (because what is it with people who can’t enjoy a good snack?!). I want to hear all your favourite festive flavours.

Fantasy Man:

It’s never too early to get festive. And yes, I do have my tree up, even if it’s only the size of a snowman’s mitten. You probably can’t see it under all the tinsel, and if I switch the lights on, it could end in disaster.

What do I love about Christmas? Going home to see family, even if there’s a LOT of them, and they’re as excitable as a troop of squirrel monkeys in Santa hats. (They mean well but bring earplugs.)