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As Noémi heard Daniel and Felix yelling ‘no’ behind her, with Tommaso clicking his fingers and saying she was fierce for a woman with pencils in her hair, the shop door swung open.

There stood Shay, fire extinguisher under one arm, glass fish tank under the other. Wanderer the third. Noémi’s heart dropped at having briefly forgotten the small golden life, before leaping – and not just because Shay looked like he was starring in one of those heroic Die Hard movies. Well, other than Shay was dressed as a carrot rather than a muscle man poured into a vest. It wasn’t even because he’d saved her fish – though she’d probably always be indebted to him for that. Hell, she didn’t know what it was. Sheer gratitude that the dangerously daft bugger was still alive, most probably. How she’d allowed herself to misjudge him. Or had she done so on purpose, because it had been easier than letting herself warm to him?

A sob burst from her throat, and she ran to him, flinging her arms around him in utter relief that he’d not just been roasted because of her penchant for a cosy, crackling fire.

His surprised laugh rumbled through her, his body hot against hers – even through all the synthetic padding. What she hoped was just the fish tank poked her in the side, and somehow, she was weeping into his collarbone, which ought to have felt more awkward …

A siren wailed in the distance, dragging her back to reality. Oh God. This was completely embarrassing. She’d been huffing in his face and slagging off his avocado cookies just hours before. She pulled away quickly, apologizing and straightening herself, before taking command of the fish tank and hugging it to her. She must be in some sort of shock.

‘No bother,’ he said warmly, that twinkle in his eye. ‘Any time. Though preferably without the burning rug in future.’

Daniel and Tommaso both spat out a laugh.

‘You’ll never catch me near a burning rug,’ said Tommaso.

He reminded Noémi of Rylan Clark from TV, with the sharp sass and good teeth.

‘Same,’ Daniel agreed.

Noémi could already tell these two had far too much in common.

‘Everything’s unharmed in there, other than the carpet area,’ said Shay. ‘Books, trees, tinsel – all intact.’

Noémi thought of the old books she’d stupidly left on the coffee table, and her beautiful shop full of a lifetime of memories and things collected. The fact she could have lost everything – and everyone – didn’t bear thinking about.

‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘Though I’m not sure two words will ever cover it.’ Then she turned her attention to her poor fish, who had narrowly escaped being flame grilled.

‘Hey,’ Shay said, gently nudging her. ‘Don’t worry about your pet there. It’s probably the most fun they’ve had in months. Imagine being cooped up inside all day, looking at the same old view.’

Imagine.

It wasn’t long before a fire engine and an ambulance arrived. The ambulance took Felix and Mrs Jingleman away for a check-up. The firefighters gave the others foil blankets to keep them warm and ordered them to stand back while they checked the bookshop, even though Shay had put out the relatively small fire. When they were done, Noémi braced herself for an imminent telling-off by the firefighter in charge.

The firefighter, named Abi, put her hands on her hips as she addressed Noémi. ‘This is your bookshop, right? When did you last carry out a fire safety risk assessment?’

‘I do that every year,’ Noémi replied, trying to stand taller, but feeling small in every way. ‘We have fire extinguishers, fire exit signs …’

‘And an open fire. In a bookshop. Did that get past your safety check, or didn’t you notice?’ Abi did not seem in the mood for messing.

‘It’s just that the shop has always had it. It’s never caused a problem before …’

‘Never use it again,’ said Abi firmly. ‘Or candles.’

‘We don’t use …’

‘And get your fairy lights checked.’

Noémi sighed, because she was in no position to argue. Firefighters – and even her once-annoying neighbour – had risked their lives. She would somehow find the money for a donation, by way of apology. ‘I promise.’

‘And you, Kurt Russell. Make sure your grapefruit costume is fire retardant before you try any more firefighting stunts.’

‘Kurt Russell in Backdraft?’ Shay asked. ‘Or those films where he played Santa Claus?’

Abi glared at him.

‘We’re sorry for your trouble,’ Shay said quickly. ‘Truly we are. And we’ll make sure that the risk assessment is promptly updated.’

Noémi had no idea why Shay was being nice enough to help shoulder the blame, but in that moment, she was grateful. She’d had enough of a shock without dealing with the well-deserved wrath of Abi.