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Noémi let her mind consider it, even if fast-forwarding to future Christmases couldn’t happen outside of a Dickens novel or a film adaptation involving The Muppets. Her lips curved into the smallest smile, because she liked the idea of Shay at her festive table, wearing some ridiculous outfit and warming the mood with his jokes.

She shook her head. ‘He doesn’t. And you used to say it’s better to have loved and lost. Not that I’ll be falling in love any time soon.’

‘Better to have doinked and lost.’ Daniel nodded sensibly.

‘Nobody is planning any doinking either.’

‘Yet.’ Daniel gave her a mischievous look and then bounced to his feet. ‘Anyway, I’ve got online orders to pack, and it sounds like you’ve got your booty call with a book thing to arrange.’

‘Singles night.’ She stood and gave his hair a playful muss. ‘In the interests of selling more love stories and saving our shop.’ She was still obsessing about the takings daily, and they’d been much healthier. But they had to keep this up. Every day, every event, and every push of effort counted. There was no time for mistakes or flops.

‘There’s a coachload of Christmas shoppers due up in the square, and Leanora from Posh Fish ’n’ Chips said she’d send them this way afterwards. At least Tommaso will be here soon because we’ll need extra hands, and you’ll have to bake more cookies. People will demand them.’ He rubbed his annoyingly flat belly. ‘Your instinct to pair books and bakes is really paying off so far. And I’m so happy to see you following your dreams again. Not just because I get to live in sweet snack heaven.’

‘What about your dreams?’ she asked softly. ‘You used to travel and run your own business. I’m not sure packing up copies of Why Mummy Drinks was a huge part of your life plan?’

‘Perhaps I should run off with Shay and leave you salivating over stories with Tommaso,’ he joked.

Since Tommaso’s stint at the bookshop, Noémi had been getting him back into books. His role was temporary and low paid for now, to scrape them through Christmas – though Noémi sensed it wasn’t wise to commit to Tommaso’s role, in case his flirtation with Daniel didn’t outlive the mince pies. Tommaso juggled the role with his writing for The Cotswold Juice – often sharing shop gossip. Noémi hadn’t been sure at first, but she was coming to enjoy his cheeky online news and the extra custom it was bringing.

‘In all seriousness though,’ Daniel continued. ‘We never know how the future will pan out. So can’t we just appreciate this bit?’

They gazed around the shop, which was dressed to festive perfection with garlands and tinsel. Tree lights danced and the smell of that morning’s cinnamon-spiced lattes still hung in the air. If her gorgeous bookshop wasn’t a celebration of being in the moment, she didn’t know what was.

‘Let’s appreciate the hell out of this bit and see what happens,’ she agreed.

‘And maybe there’s something to be said for settling down,’ said Daniel, looking at his feet. He’d taken to wearing slippers around the shop, albeit they were Versace with a Baroque print. ‘If you fly too much, you might get wrinkles.’

Noémi laughed but couldn’t help wondering if Shay would ever feel that way, even if he probably didn’t obsess over skin elasticity. For now, she guessed the only roots he’d be leaving would be from his hazel trees at Happy Hedges.

Which gave her another idea. Maybe she’d speak to Shay about that later. She craned her head to see if there was any sign of him.

‘Anyway, we should stop loitering in this window like a pair of desperadoes,’ said Daniel. ‘Let the hot guys come to us.’

The rest of the day went by in a whizz of cookie bookshop loveliness that made Noémi’s heart feel good. She baked a fresh batch of reindeer cookies with M&M eyes and twisty pretzel antlers. Their coachload of visitors arrived, ready to stock up on books and Christmas presents and devour Noémi’s baked delights. Noémi gave an impromptu reading of The Polar Express to a group of excited children. Various locals popped in and out, putting their names down for the Christmas Eve gathering and showing an interest in the bookish singles night. Mrs Jingleman huffed in looking for Felix and promptly left – though not before swiping a free cookie, complaining about the noise and trundling off to see Spirit and her nice poinsettias.

And much like everything had felt just right when she’d been lost in her kiss with Shay, this ebb and flow of friendly faces felt perfect too. When Shay arrived to set a date for their ice-skating adventure, she thought her insides might burst with joy. He wasn’t free to escape for another few days, but that suited her. It would give her time to bake extra cookies and make sure she had cover for the shop. And time to enjoy the anticipation of what might be.

‘Before then, do you fancy a mini adventure at Happy Hedges?’ she asked him. He was keen on keeping people active, and the residents always loved to see him. It wasn’t at all that she wanted every excuse to spend more time with him, with or without an eager crowd of pensioners and a receptionist who called him a DILF.

‘I thought I was strictly banned from encouraging your mum to zip wire? Though if she’s into zorbing, I can get my hands on some giant inflatable balls.’

‘I was thinking more of a gentle festive walk, finished off with a nice story and a tray of buttered popcorn cookies?’

‘That does sound like a winning combination, though I might stick to the healthier cookies with carrots. Will I bring angel wings and Rudolph noses?’

‘I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.’

And as tempting as it was to stay focused on the present, the part of Noémi that was trying to flourish as a shop owner had to plan for future seasons. So between working through her plans to bring about the best Christmas Eve Hazel Blooms had seen for years, she was also allowing in tentative thoughts for the year ahead – if only they could make it that far.

Ideas for Chinese New Year cookies with hidden fortune messages and mini Easter egg designs swirled through her mind, which led her to consider hosting cookie decorating classes and even entering competitions. Then she daydreamed of inviting local authors for book signings, from Rosie Featherstone, who’d written the love story set on a local pumpkin farm, to the blogger called Lexie Summers, who’d written something about naughty peacocks in the Cotswolds. Her insides stirred with the excitement of it.

But right then, it was too wild to get her heart set on anything. Though, talking of hearts …

Chapter 43

7 days until Christmas

‘Tell me again why we’re setting off before the robins have had their breakfast?’ asked Noémi, climbing into the front passenger side of Shay’s flower-power-stickered green van, which doubled as his home.