The Beach Reads Book Club: The most heartwarming and feel good summer holiday read of 2021! (The Kathryn Freeman Romcom Collection, Book 5)

by Kathryn Freeman

  Matt nodded. ‘Understood.’

  Yet as he walked a few paces behind the pair of them as they huddled beneath a giant golf umbrella, he felt a small twinge of, if not victory, then hope. This would be the first time the three of them had gone out for a meal together. Briefly he looked up to the sky. It’s a start, Mum, he whispered. Then hunched his shoulders against the cold as he acknowledged it had come many years too late.

  Chapter Three

  Lottie drummed her fingers on the café table and again glanced over at Matthew Steele. She could do this, couldn’t she?

  What was the worst that could happen? He’d say no?

  You’ll trip up over your feet, fall headlong into him, and find your face pressed against his groin.

  Even worse, you’ll enjoy it.

  Sitting opposite, Sally, her best friend from school, giggled. ‘God, I didn’t think I’d see the day. Charlotte Watt, bricking herself over talking to a guy.’

  ‘I’m not.’ Her eyes skimmed across the Books by the Bay café, only this time she didn’t see it as a good place to have a drink while reading a book. This time she saw it as a potential venue for the Beach Reads Book Club.

  ‘Are so.’

  Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘What are you, ten?’

  ‘Hey, I knew you when you were ten, so there’s no way you can pull the wool over my eyes. You’re shitting kittens.’

  ‘Err, either I’m shitting bricks, or having kittens.’

  Sally smiled triumphantly. ‘See, I told you.’

  Lottie let out a strangled laugh. ‘Very funny. I will concede to being a little apprehensive, but only because the last person I asked to host the book club shot me down.’

  ‘Come on, Eve was never going to agree to you using the library for a Beach Reads Book Club.’ Sally leant back in her chair, resting her hands over her very round, eight-month-pregnant belly. ‘Not only would she see it as a rival to hers, she thinks books like that are only one step away from Fifty Shades.’

  ‘So? Look at the sales of Fifty Shades. Loads of people enjoyed it, so why shouldn’t it be included in a book club? If everyone’s willing, obviously.’

  Sally winked. ‘And they all know the safe word.’

  They both erupted in laughter, which drew the attention of the very man Lottie was gearing herself up to approach. Damn, Sally was right. She was bricking it.

  ‘So, when are you going to ask him?’

  Lottie took a swig of her tea. ‘On the way out.’

  ‘Why not now, so I can have fun watching? It’s not like he’s doing anything, except for looking over here every now and again. I can’t work out if it’s because we’re making too much noise, or he’s checking us out.’ She sighed dramatically and pointed to her bump. ‘Nope, those days are over for me. It has to be you he keeps staring at.’

  ‘Trust me, if he is, it’s because I’m being too loud.’ Lottie had met plenty of guys who’d flirted with her, checked her out – something about being blonde and driving a van with Electric Blonde emblazoned along the side (yeah, not her best idea). Matthew Steele, with his smartly tailored suits and discreetly expensive watch, wasn’t one of them.

  ‘How many people have you got signed up for this book club, then?’

  ‘I’ve not exactly been inundated with requests since putting it on the local Facebook page. In fact, so far it’s only Heidi and Gira from the original book club. If it stays that way, we could meet in my van.’ Worry niggled and she glanced over at Sally. ‘Of course I’m counting on my mate joining.’

  Sally raised her eyebrows. ‘Err, have you read about what happens to mums with new babies? Sleep deprived, always drinking cold tea because they don’t have a chance to sit down. Brain scrambled. I won’t be able to manage reading a book, never mind talking intelligently about it. Plus there’s the small matter of a tiny, wailing baby.’

  Lottie started to laugh. ‘Err, first off, did you listen to anything I said about what we’ll be reading? Books that are easy to pick up and put down. Perfect to be read on the beach and while looking after a new baby. In fact we could have called it the Beach Reads For Everyone Including New Mums Book Club, but it would take up too much space on the flyer I haven’t got round to designing yet.’ Seeing Sally about to open her mouth, Lottie pressed on. ‘My second point is, the book club will be run by me, so why on earth do you think the discussion will be intelligent?’

  Sally snorted with laughter. ‘Okay, I’ll give you that, but it still leaves the wailing baby.’

  ‘Every time he or she wails, I promise to pick them up and do that jigging around on your shoulder thing that always gets them back to sleep, or so I’ve heard.’ As she spoke, the old doubts began to sneak in. ‘Oh God, Sally, what was I thinking? I’ve not done anything like this before. I mouthed off at Eve about the way she ran the library book club, but what if mine is worse? What if nobody else joins, and Gira and Heidi find it boring? What if it ends up with just me sitting here like Lottie No Mates, reading a book by myself?’

  ‘Jeez, Lonely Lottie, I promise to come before the wailing one arrives.’ She patted her bump. ‘And anyway, the club is going to be a success. You might not have run one before but you’re a flipping whizz at talking.’ She grinned. ‘Even your teachers would have to give you an A-star in it. So why don’t you put that talent to good use and ask the dishy guy, who keeps looking over here, if you can use his premises.’

  ‘You think he’s attractive?’ she blurted, then instantly regretted it.

  ‘Duh, I’m pregnant, not blind.’ Sally gave her a sly look. ‘Don’t you?’

  ‘I haven’t really noticed.’

  Sally nodded. ‘Of course you haven’t. I mean, why would you? You’re not a fan of green eyes.’

  ‘They’re not green. They’re a really dark brown. Not Cadbury milk chocolate brown, richer than that, smoother, more expensive. I’m thinking a dark Hotel Chocolat.’ Shit, what was she doing, waxing lyrical about the guy’s bloody eyes? ‘Obviously that’s a total guess, because I’ve not really—’

  ‘Noticed,’ Sally filled in, eyes wide and brimming with laughter. ‘I can see that.’

  Embarrassed, Lottie scrunched up her napkin and threw it at her friend. ‘Shut up.’

  Sally bit into her lip, hands on her shaking belly. ‘I’d ask you to go through the full chocolate range, just to make sure, but I’m going to wet myself if I laugh any more.’

  ‘Okay, so he has nice eyes,’ Lottie conceded grumpily. ‘All I’m interested in, though, is whether he’ll let me hold the book club here.’

  ‘Then go and ask him.’ Sally smirked. ‘And while you’re there, find out for certain if he’s a 70 per cent, an 85 per cent or maybe even a 90 per cent cocoa.’

  Lottie glared at her. ‘You won’t be laughing when that medicine ball you’re carrying decides to come out.’

  ‘I know.’ Sally grinned. ‘But when I’m screaming in agony I’m going to wave away the pethidine and picture your flustered expression instead.’

  Ignoring her so-called friend, Lottie rose to her feet, pushed back her shoulders and headed over to where Matthew was… God, was he really shuffling the pots of pens round on the counter?

  Suddenly the man didn’t seem so scary.

  Matt glanced up to find the curly-haired blonde he’d been trying not to look at for the last forty minutes walking towards him. And damn, her eyes were on the pots of pens he’d been in the process of rearranging so they were all in height order. Clearly he’d reached a new level of lameness.

  Quickly he switched two of the pots round, but when he caught her eye he saw her mouth twitch, confirming his lame status. And doubling it.

  Not a problem. He’d brazen it out. It’s not like he wasn’t used to bluffing, acting confident when inside, his belly was a quivering mass of blancmange. And over far greater stakes than a pot of blasted pens.

  ‘Come for another refund?’

  She faltered, and he realised belatedly it had sounded like a dig.
If he didn’t improve his customer service skills, this venture of his would fail exactly as his dad predicted.

  ‘No refund, but should I bring the cake back up, I’ll be sure to let you know.’ Immediately she put a hand over her mouth. ‘God, that was gross, sorry. Actually I came over to ask you a favour. Not, err, to discuss the challenge of keeping your cake down.’

  Her eyes met his and once again he was struck by their clarity. There was no way she could play poker, because those eyes betrayed exactly what she was thinking. She was nervous, which was a shock because so far he’d been the one feeling on the back foot.

  ‘Oh?’ It seemed the safest, if also the dullest, response.

  ‘Yes.’ She paused and inhaled a lungful of air. ‘So, I’m starting a new book club and I asked the library if I could use one of their rooms for a venue, because I know they already run a book club there, as I was a member once, but then you know that, because I told you when I brought the book back, though actually thinking about it, you get loads of customers, so you probably don’t remember.’

  ‘I do. Remember, that is.’ He wasn’t sure who was the more shocked by his admission, him or the blonde.

  ‘Err, okay.’ She gave him a hesitant smile. ‘So anyway, the library said they wouldn’t let me hold it there, so I wondered if the club could meet in your café instead.’ A soft light came into her eyes. ‘The first book club I joined took place in a coffee shop and I have such really fond memories of it. I’d love this club to be as … cosy, I think, would describe it. Friendly, welcoming. Holding it here would really help with that.’

  He wasn’t sure if he was required to say anything, so he kept to his default mode and remained quiet.

  ‘We’d come when the shop was closed,’ she continued, making him glad he’d kept quiet. ‘So maybe there’s a day when you stay behind to, I don’t know, put out stock, do your ordering. Or whatever it is bookshop owners do.’

  ‘That would be most days.’ He’d started to realise owning a bookshop wasn’t the doddle some – and yes, he included himself in that – thought it was.

  ‘That’s great.’ Immediately she’d said it, her smile faltered. ‘Oops, that sounded mean. Obviously it’s not great for you, having to work late every day, but it’s great for me because it gives lots of options. I tell you what, why don’t I talk to my club members and I’ll email you the most suitable date for us. I’m thinking we could meet at 5.30 p.m. for two hours. We wouldn’t expect you to open the café, but maybe we could bring some snacks and drinks?’ She smiled properly then, and he felt the warmth, the dazzle of it, like a punch to his gut. ‘These things go a lot better when refreshments are involved.’

  ‘I imagine.’ But he couldn’t, not really, because the idea of discussing something so private as the book he was reading, with virtual strangers, made him shudder. As a kid, reading had been a chance to escape, to get lost in a fantasy for a while. Until he’d been forced to turn his light out, and reality had come crashing back. As an adult, he’d only recently enjoyed returning to the pastime and it had brought back all those feelings from his childhood: comfort, a feeling of security. If he had a book in his hand, he didn’t feel lonely.

  ‘Well, that’s settled then.’ She went to pick up a business card from next to the till and he tried not to wince as she accidentally knocked the stack onto the floor. ‘Crap, sorry.’

  He shifted to the other side of the counter to help her pick them up, but just as he bent to crouch down, she tried to stand up, and they collided.

  ‘Whoa.’ Feeling her stagger backwards, he clutched at her arms to steady her, steady them both. And wow, it was like holding onto a live wire. His body began to react in ways he’d forgotten as his blood pumped faster, hotter.

  Abruptly he let go. ‘Sorry.’ He took a step away, trying to find his equilibrium. Thankfully she didn’t seem to notice his mini meltdown. She was too intent on putting the cards back on the counter.

  ‘I, umm, think you’ll probably do a better job.’

  He glanced behind her to the now haphazardly piled stack. ‘Yes. It’s on that list of things bookshop owners do.’

  Humour lit her eyes. ‘Is that before or after rearranging the pen pots?’

  He wanted to be offended, but it was hard to be, when her grey eyes twinkled and her flushed face was alive with amusement. ‘Before. Neat business cards would seem to be a priority.’

  A crack of laughter escaped her. ‘Definitely. So, as I was saying before I decided to decimate your display, I’ll be in touch with the best date for us and we can take it from there.’

  He wasn’t sure what he’d just agreed to, but there was only one possible response to a woman who was smiling at him like she was now. ‘Yes, fine.’

  ‘Oh, and as we’ll be ordering our books from you for future meetings, will it be okay if we don’t actually pay for the use of your shop? The club’s just starting out and I don’t want to put off any would-be members by charging them to come.’

  ‘Understandable.’

  ‘So, we’re good?’

  He felt dizzy with it all: her use of so many words, the dazzle of her smile, his unexpected reaction to the brush of her body against his. ‘I think so.’

  ‘That’s great. Thank you.’ She waved the business card at him. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  He watched as she strode back to the café. A mini blonde tornado, dressed in dark jeans and a tomato-red jumper.

  It was only later, when he received her email, that he began to wonder what on earth he’d agreed to. Lottie Watt – at least now he knew her name – was bringing her book club to his shop on the last Thursday in every month at 5.30 p.m. For two hours. Starting in two weeks.

  Did he want people in his shop after it had closed? Sure, there was plenty he could do, but he enjoyed the peace of being by himself after hours. Sorting stock, updating orders, just him and his books.

  That’s the old you.

  The thought niggled. He’d vowed when he bought the shop that he was going to relax more, to embrace people, let them in a little. Become part of the community. How better to do that, than allow a book club to meet in his shop?

  And it was only once a month. Even he could put up with that.

  Chapter Four

  Lottie parked up outside the house of her next customer and turned off the engine. The temperature dial was up in the red again and she winced. She wasn’t sure how much longer the old boy would last, which was a real bugger because money was pretty tight at the moment… For that, read: no bloody way could she afford a new van.

  Maybe buying the house had been a bad idea.

  With a sigh, she rested her forehead against the steering wheel and took in a few calming breaths. It was fine. She’d manage. If all else failed, she could always take in a lodger. Though quite who would want to live in a crumbling terrace that hadn’t been touched since the 1930s, God only knew. She barely did, some nights. Since she’d sorted the central heating system out, it was at least warm, but stained, peeling woodchip wallpaper didn’t exactly scream, Come and live here! At least the living room was done.

  ‘Only six more rooms to go, eh?’ She turned around to look at Chewie, her crazy, gorgeous Labradoodle companion.

  He barked and wagged his tail.

  ‘Okay then, Audrey’s too old to risk a mutt like you dancing round her ankles, so this time you need to stay put. I won’t be long.’

  With a kiss to his head, she jumped down from the van. Chewie, used to how this worked, settled back down in his doggie bed to wait for her.

  Audrey, just turned eighty but with a brain sharper than most twenty-year-olds, Lottie’s included, answered the door.

  ‘One minute I was watching Loose Women, the next it was a black screen. Before you ask, the trip switch is down but I can’t shove it up again.’

  Lottie hoisted her toolbag over her arm and stepped inside. ‘Can’t have you missing Loose Women.’

  ‘Exactly. Used to be three of us watched it tog
ether. Me, Maureen and Gladys. Now there’s just me.’ Sadness crept across her face. ‘When you’re young, you think your friends will always be there. When you’re old, they start dropping like flies.’

  Lottie’s heart went out to her. She only knew Audrey as a customer she’d visited a few times, once to put in a few extra sockets, once to put some spotlights in her kitchen, because I can see bugger all with the current lighting.

  ‘Do you have family nearby?’ she asked as she checked the fusebox under the stairs.

  ‘My daughter, Sally, is about an hour or so away. Simon’s the other end of the country, but I’m luckier than most. The kids and grandkids all visit when they get the chance.’

  Yet Lottie heard what Audrey couldn’t, wouldn’t say – It’s the other days I’m lonely – because Audrey was a war child, and they never complained.

  As she started to check all the wiring in the front room, Lottie asked, ‘Do you read?’

  ‘Course I can bloody read. I’ve not lost my marbles yet.’

  Lottie rolled her eyes. ‘Don’t I know it! I meant, do you enjoy reading books?’

  Audrey cackled. ‘Oh, right. Well, sure. The print’s a bit small for me these days, but I manage.’

  ‘Have you tried an e-reader? Like a Kindle? You can make the font as big as you like.’

  ‘That’s what my daughter said. I told her I didn’t want to be holding some slab of new-fangled technology in my hand. A book should have pages. Something reassuring about the feel of the paper in your hands, the action of turning each page bringing you closer to the end. Stubborn woman bought me a ruddy slab of plastic anyway.’

  Lottie bit into her cheek to stop from smiling. ‘Who’s the stubborn one here? The daughter who bought you something she thought would help with your reading, or the mum who refuses to give new-fangled technology a go?’ Not finding anything amiss on the left side of the room, Lottie switched to the right and shifted the sofa. ‘I’m with you on the real book, though. I use a Kindle for holidays but I still prefer a book in my hand. What books do you like?’