Page 45

‘Sorry. For the inappropriate face prodding.’

‘Any time.’

He grinned, as though nothing could ever bother him. She wondered if that was true. Surely everyone had something? Not that it was anything to do with her.

They stood looking at each other for a moment, his cocoa-brown eyes lit up by the old-fashioned streetlamp they’d found themselves under – and perhaps by the seemingly never-ending mirth in his soul. Now she was definitely romanticizing.

‘Not that I haven’t saved the life of your fancy goldfish already tonight,’ he said cheekily. ‘But maybe you want to strike a deal? One real-life adventure in exchange for …?’

‘One armchair adventure!’ she teased.

‘Well, hang on now. You’ll have to explain exactly what goes on in that armchair of yours. I can’t have wildly eager women taking advantage of me – especially not in that showy bay window. I’ve seen those red lights you put on.’

‘That was one fairy-light malfunction. And I can promise you the armchair is strictly for reading.’

‘You want me to sit and read a book? Have you seen how restless I am? I mean, books are great, in theory. But even you read them while you’re walking. If I was going to read, it would have to be that way.’

‘Then any real-life escapade I agree to would have to be strictly small, non-adventurous, and indoors.’

He raised his eyebrows. ‘Those are not the sort of adventures my shop offers, Mademoiselle Blanc. But if they were, I don’t think the reviews would describe anything as small – just for the record.’

She ought to have been mortified. But he said it with such faux-seriousness that she couldn’t help but play-swipe him. And then they were back to the risky distance of two paperbacks.

‘For your insolence, I should add a second condition,’ she said.

The idea had sprung from his talk of restlessness. Though for once, he wasn’t pacing.

‘Which would be?’

‘In theory – because I’m still considering the perils of your proposition – my second proviso would be that you don’t rush to replace that fitness watch you seem to obsess over. I’m sure it does marvellous things. But now and again, it’s safe to rest awhile.’

‘Is that so?’

He seemed to ponder the thought, the delicate clouds from their breath swirling in the air. An owl hooted in the distance. And there was something else, though Noémi couldn’t quite describe it. Like a tingling in the space between them. Something that was almost willing her to step in. One paperback. This was madness. This time yesterday, she would have swiped him with one. But now she was all but inspecting him. Her eyes running over his strong jawline, covered with what looked like the softest of rugged beards. His ears, which were small and cute, and not at all elf-like. And his lips. Wow, she wanted to touch them. The fright of that fire had a lot to answer for.

The owl hooted again. Thank goodness. She stepped away quickly. Three entirely safe paperbacks. A much safer distance.

They both cleared their throats. Had he been looking at her lips too? Who even did that, outside of romance novels? Maybe he secretly read more than he was letting on?

She was clearly exhausted and should not be making any real-life-changing decisions without at least eight hours’ kip and a really good breakfast.

‘We should sleep on it,’ she concluded. ‘Entirely separately, of course. Erm. Shall we?’ She pointed to the path ahead, where she knew the relative safety of The Tipsy Squirrel was waiting in the distance. Hopefully Delilah would have room for her, minus any requirement for tipsiness. She would grab a festive novel from the pub’s rarely used bookshelf, blag a large packet of pigs-in-blankets-flavoured crisps, and head straight to bed. Alone.

Shay nodded and they carried on their way.

It wasn’t long before Noémi was getting ready to close the curtains in one of the pub’s spare rooms before climbing into bed. When she and Shay had walked into the pub together to speak to Delilah, half of the regulars had made suggestive wolf-whistles, as though two single people couldn’t enter a drinking establishment without it being a precursor to naked shenanigans. When news had spread – not unlike wildfire – that Noémi’s shop was in need of a post-fire clean-up, the whistling locals had turned their attention to arranging a rescue mission the very next day.

‘They’re going to be disappointed,’ Noémi had whispered to Shay. ‘I’m hoping we’ll just need a bottle of Febreze and a new rug.’ But the offers of support warmed her heart, and she still had a large Christmas cake ready for sharing. Perhaps a bit of rallying around and community spirit would be just the ticket.

Noémi yawned and began to pull one of the old, velvety curtains across, pretending she wasn’t taking an ounce of notice of Shay’s van and the shadow she could see moving around behind its closed curtains. It ought to have felt strange that she was ready to settle into bed without checking in with Fantasy Man. She couldn’t, because her online devices were all in her bookshop. But for once, she wasn’t sure she needed to.

Chapter 26

19 days until Christmas

‘I sincerely hope no stuffed badgers were harmed in the making of this shop-fire disaster,’ said Barbara as she bustled through the front door of the bookshop, holding a box of cleaning products.

‘No nocturnal, burrowing mammals were harmed,’ Noémi confirmed with a wry smile, welcoming her in.