Page 41

Abi was reeling off various instructions, and Noémi was glad Shay was taking note, even if she’d mistakenly called him a citrus fruit. Shay and Tommaso were now talking animatedly to another firefighter, and Tommaso was asking if he could have a photo for some online gossip sharing that she hoped she wouldn’t be a part of.

‘Did anyone leave a lump of coal cooking in the kitchen?’ Another firefighter had just emerged through the shop’s front door carrying a baking tray, its contents blackened and smoking.

Noémi’s stomach flipped. Her Christmas cookies. With all the mayhem, she’d forgotten they were still in the oven. Way to go, Mi-Mi. Two potential infernos in less than an hour. It was absolutely a sign she should stick to selling books.

‘Me,’ she said quietly, sure her legs were about to buckle.

‘You might want to give up your career in baking.’ The man with the tray shrugged.

Noémi let out a long breath. ‘I already did.’

‘Ooh, I thought you were the woman who used to make the cookies,’ said Tommaso. ‘Weren’t they award-winning? One of my old online posts about them started getting shared again this month for Cookie Week.’

So that was why people had been going on about them again. Urrrrrrrgh. Couldn’t anyone let sleeping cookies lie?

‘I’m a carrot!’ Shay piped up, rustling his foil blanket to reveal more of his outfit.

She scratched her head. Was he trying to take the heat off her – again? She would owe him a pint of protein shake at this rate. She was already feeling dreadful about the hard time she’d been giving him until this moment.

‘Not a grapefruit.’ He beamed at Abi as though that would solve everything.

Abi shook her head and made her way back to the fire engine, muttering something that sounded like ‘bunch of clowns’.

‘I could have sworn he was a kumquat,’ said Tommaso.

‘I don’t know anything about kumquats,’ Daniel stage-whispered. ‘But Hottie Totty just got one hundred per cent hotter.’

Soon the fire engine was leaving, with Daniel and Tommaso having charmed their way on board for a lift back to Daniel’s.

‘Daniel doesn’t waste his time,’ Shay joked, as he and Noémi stood on the pavement with two foil blankets, an empty fire extinguisher, and a fish tank.

Noémi considered it. She’d wanted to roll her eyes at Daniel’s coquetry, but in truth, she’d missed that side of him. The carefree flirting with good-looking guys, just because he could. That sense of fun that had once surrounded him like a cloud of Bleu de Chanel. She hadn’t seen her best friend so enlivened about man candy until Shay had arrived on Hazel View Avenue dressed in red velvet and Daniel had called him a dish.

It had been two years since Daniel had become widowed. Two grim Christmases. And though this December had not started well, she prayed there was still time to make this season better. Preferably with no more disasters, and no one losing their jobs, shops, or homes.

At thirty-three, Daniel was still so young. His time grieving couldn’t be passed off as wasted; it was clear he would always mourn loved ones gone. But maybe there did come a point when it was safe to look forward. She wanted that for Daniel. Though for herself, she would be far too busy – apparently now more so, with a shop to clear up.

She hadn’t realized she was shivering until Shay put his warm hands on her shoulders, making the silvery foil rustle. ‘We should get you inside. The frightening woman said you’re not to go back into your shop tonight. Can I interest you in … a latte?’

‘Wait – I can’t go back into my shop?’ She must have missed that bit. Damn it. She would have got a lift back to Daniel’s if she’d registered that. On second thoughts, with Tommaso and goodness knew how many men in uniform he may invite in, perhaps not. ‘And you have lattes?’

‘Well, no.’ He ran a hand down his coffee-coloured, soft-looking beard.

Hmm.

‘But I do have bottles from a three-day juice cleanse, in broccoli and cucumber? Oh, and quite a lot of avocado cookies in a slightly grim shade of green. Apparently, my baking isn’t a patch on yours.’

‘Have you seen my burnt offerings?’ Noémi couldn’t help but laugh. ‘The fire department has officially banned me from baking.’

‘That guy had no idea who he was taking to,’ Shay reasoned. ‘You’ve won awards. Though if you want a no-bake recipe, I read you can make them with dates and seed butter.’

‘No thank you!’ She held up a hand. ‘I’m all for healthy eating, on a good day. But when I’m eating treats, I’m eating treats. No sense in ripping off my taste buds with bird food.’

‘Well, you’re welcome to warm up in my shop, while you decide what to do.’

His shop was the only building on the street with a light on, other than the flat above Mr Ham’s Hardware – and she didn’t fancy her chances with a grump who collected hammers and was rumoured to fly drones.

‘I guess nobody ever got murdered by a root vegetable.’