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The snow had been falling heavily in the couple of days that had passed since the post-fire shop clean-up, and the whole village and surrounding hills were thick with it. Noémi usually loved days like this, when she could look out from the warm comfort of her window onto a powdery white Christmas-card view. Although now Shay had waltzed in, her insides were twisting into knots. He was carrying what looked like two suit bags and Noémi dreaded to think what was inside them.

‘I mean, not everyone would be brave enough to base jump from a radio mast in this weather. I hope the parachutes are OK.’ Shay held the bags aloft. ‘And I didn’t exactly manage to get permission, but we’ll be grand, as long as the local constabulary don’t catch us. Daniel, did you bring in your bolt cutters?’

‘What the hell?’ Noémi’s eyes darted between Shay and Daniel, and then over to Tommaso, who’d agreed to help in the shop while Noémi went out for a few hours. Not that he’d now need to. ‘No way. I said one gentle outing. One light, fluffy, non-dangerous adventure. I expressly stated that if I needed to take anything more heavy-duty than a pack of Elastoplast, it was not happening.’ She began speedily peeling off her coat.

Daniel and Tommaso were both sniggering, but Shay bore the look of a reindeer who’d been sacked before Christmas.

‘But we agreed.’ He wiggled a wrist. ‘I haven’t replaced my fitness watch. I was even psyching myself up to cosy in with a book, or whatever you call it. I mean, probably a short one. But still.’

‘It’s not about the length of things,’ Daniel said cheekily.

Tommaso began wolf-whistling. These two were terrible and it had been easier when she’d only had Felix to worry about. Felix hadn’t yet returned to work since the fire, though Noémi was still resisting Daniel’s suggestion that she should encourage him to retire. Until either the doctor said he should, or Felix wanted to, he would always be welcome. More so than some people.

‘Oh, you two can’t back out of The Adventure Swap.’ Tommaso was using his fingers to make air quotes, though Noémi had no idea why. ‘I’ve been raving about it in The Cotswold Juice. Everyone’s clamouring to know how it goes. It will be soooo great for business on the street.’

Urgh. When Tommaso wasn’t busy sniffing out cute guys, Noémi had learned he ran the local online gossip magazine that Prisha had talked about and was in charge of spreading random news of the Cotswolds on social media and beyond. This included his post about her Christmas cookies from a few years ago, which had – annoyingly – been gaining traction again this season. Noémi had seen his more recent Instagram posts about hunky firefighters at the bookshop, Shay saving a fish, and the impromptu buffet party clean-up. Noémi wasn’t hugely into gossip, but she had to admit it had boosted online sales and led to more customers dropping in for a nosy.

Even so, it had been foolish to think she’d be safe in the hands of Shay Cassidy and his wild ideas.

‘Mr Top o’ the Morning probably won’t be staying around long enough to read a full-length novel anyway.’ Noémi smoothed down her woollen dress and marched to the coat rack to hang her Coat of Many Books back up.

‘Oh, you do like to pre-judge me, Miss Bennet,’ said Shay.

‘It’s Miss …’ Hang on. ‘Is that a reference to Pride and Prejudice?’ She gave him a quizzical look. ‘I thought you didn’t read?’

Shay lifted his shoulders and let them drop. ‘No idea. Must have been something one of my sisters watched on TV. Women in floaty dresses. Colin Firth prancing about in a lake with a white shirt on?’

‘That was a good adaptation,’ Noémi conceded. ‘But first and foremost, it was a novel by Jane Austen.’ She moved to one of the shelves and pulled out a copy, which was beautifully embellished with a peacock-feather pattern. ‘If our bet was still on, I might just have had you reading it.’ She stroked the cover gently before easing the book back into its place. ‘But it’s not, so you won’t be. Panic over.’

Was it odd that she felt the tiniest bit disappointed that this so-called adventure had fizzled out before it even began? Only because the poor man was in need of a decent book, of course. Not because she had any desire to go parachute jumping around the Cotswolds like some absolute tearaway, probably getting arrested or breaking every bone in her body.

Though why was Shay now gently laughing and unzipping one of his large bags?

‘I’m joking,’ he reassured her. ‘There’s no way I’d have my precious neighbour risking life, limb, and local telecommunications by climbing a radio mast.’

‘And I wouldn’t let you go anywhere if I didn’t trust him to keep you in pristine condition,’ said Daniel, coming over to straighten Noémi’s wayward fringe. ‘Believe me, I checked everything from his safety stats to his inside leg measurements before I gave my blessing for this.’

Daniel gave Noémi a long, slightly damp-eyed look that told her he knew what a brave move this was for her, having kept her life as eventless as possible since that fateful time with Asher. Perhaps waving her off would be a big thing for him too. Her heart clenched and she squeezed his hands.

‘One light, fluffy, non-dangerous adventure has been expertly arranged,’ said Shay, pulling her back to the present – which felt safer for once. ‘You trusted me with your fish, didn’t you?’

Shay pointed to the shelf, where Wanderer’s tank was now back in place.

‘Hashtag free the fish,’ Tommaso whispered. ‘That poor thing looks so melancholy.’

Noémi gave Tommaso and Daniel a warning stare. ‘That’s her normal face.’

‘Anyway, I think the snowman ski suit is about your size,’ said Shay, pulling the first outfit out of a bag. ‘And I would never ask you to be the Snowdog,’ he added sagely.

Noémi blew out a breath that messed up her tidy fringe. ‘What exactly were you planning?’

‘So, you want me to walk all the way down the hill … just to trek back up again?’ Noémi asked Shay as they stood outside the bookshop.

The street was looking more inviting now, with the extra Christmas lights creating multicoloured patterns on the snow. Prisha had sewn the most beautiful Christmas-tree-shaped bunting for the shop windows, and Spirit had made wreaths for their doors with a quirky hazelnut and squirrel theme. Barbara had even lined up two suits of armour and a plastic giraffe, all dressed in red coats and fluffy beards to look sort of like Nutcracker dolls.

At least all of that detracted from how absurd Noémi felt, squashed into a borrowed white ski suit with three large black buttons attached to the front. It had been paired with a green crochet scarf and hat, and now Prisha was trying to draw an orange nose onto her face with what looked like lip liner. She’d already painted Shay the Snowdog with a red heart nose.

Perhaps the more pertinent question would be what exactly did this trek entail, and why couldn’t they just get on with it without every person and their goat coming to have a gander?