She had just started pouring dark chocolate with mint sugar crystals into the moulds when her phone started buzzing in her pocket. Agh, no. She didn’t want to spoil the mix, as it would start solidifying in the bowl, so kept going until the tray was full. By which time, of course, the ringing had ceased. She fumbled quickly in her pocket for her mobile. Missed call – Max! Agh, bloody typical – but yes, her heart gave a little flip, he’d called.
Okay, calm down, Em. Put the bowl to soak in the sink, wash your hands, and then call him back, whilst he’s still hopefully available.
Deep breath … call back … go. Ringing tone …
‘Hi. Is that Emma?’
‘Yeah … hi.’
‘Thanks for calling back.’
His voice had a lovely melted chocolate tone over the phone, with his soft North East accent.
Emma found herself smiling. ‘Yes, I’m sorry I missed it. I was right in the middle of chocolate making. Filling the moulds. Crucial point.’
‘No worries. So, are you okay?’ He sounded slightly nervous.
‘Yes …’ She found herself at a loss for words, and her heart seemed to be beating double time. She needed to buck up.
‘I enjoyed Sunday evening,’ he added.
‘Me too, thank you,’ she forced out.
‘Can we do it again sometime?’
Despite the excitement at hearing his voice, all the doubts and fears came flooding back on hearing that question. That would mean taking things further, getting to know Max more, prising open her heart – for what? If she didn’t really like him once she got to know him, what a waste of bloody time and energy. And if she did? Somehow, that seemed more confusing and downright scary. Could she really put herself through all that again?
She felt a bit sick.
‘Em? Are you still there?’ His tone was gentle.
‘Yes … Sorry, just thinking.’
‘Dangerous pastime, that.’
‘Don’t I know it.’ She had to laugh.
Oh bugger, he sounded so bloody nice and he’d just made her giggle.
It’s only a date, a little voice egged her on. Find out a bit more about him, and if you don’t like him after that, or still have concerns, then that it’ll be it: hasta la vista, baby.
‘O-kay.’
‘Don’t sound so thrilled.’
She could hear the amusement in his tone.
‘Sorry. Yes, that would be lovely.’ She made herself sound upbeat. The poor chap. Boy, he didn’t realise what a heap of troubles he might be taking on here! If he ever found out how much baggage she came with, he’d probably be putting the phone down right away.
‘Great. I could come back up this weekend, if that’s okay – unless you’re busy?’
‘Only busy with chocolate. I think I can spare some time.’ She sounded way too cool, she knew. Oh yes, she could maybe fit Mr Rather-Gorgeous Hunk into her spare hour on the weekend. ‘Yes, I’d like that,’ she corrected herself.
‘Well, I’ve got to check a building job on Saturday morning, but then I could come on up. Maybe stay over Saturday night?’
Her heart did a somersault flip and double forward roll. It might even win the Olympics at this rate. ‘Sorry?’ Had she heard right? That was extremely presumptuous of him, though her mind was rather warming to the thought, and doing all sorts of naughty things with pictures appearing of his imagined bare torso, which were not off-putting in the least. But blimey! He was a bit full-on; maybe she was right to be cautious.
‘Hah, I meant in a B&B, or maybe book a room in that pub we had a drink in.’
‘Oh right, yes, yes, of course.’ She felt flustered. Now, what would he think of her, jumping to conclusions like that?
‘Of course, now you’re offering …’ He let the words dangle, as Emma stood, silently stumped, until he burst out laughing, and the tension between them popped like a bubble.
‘Yes, a B&B,’ she confirmed hastily. To make things quite clear from the start. She was just not that kind of a girl.
They chatted a little more about work and their past couple of days. He said he’d been extremely snowed under which was why he hadn’t rung sooner. He then asked after Alfie, who she remembered would actually need his post-supper walk very soon. And then Max drew the conversation to a close. ‘So, I’ll be up Saturday afternoon, then.’
‘Yes, great. I’ll have to work until five when the shop closes, though.’ She couldn’t afford to lose business. ‘But I do get Sunday morning off.’ She usually used the time to make more chocolates, but she could easily reorganise her weekend, and work later on Friday night.
‘Great,’ he echoed. ‘Maybe we could go for a walk, take Alfie out Sunday morning.’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
‘And Saturday evening, have a think on a nice place to go for supper.’
‘Okay, will do.’
This was sounding like a proper date. And no Malteser-Man thigh-rubbing date at that. Actually, if it had been Max trying to tease his way in to her Maltesers pack via her inner thigh, from the way she was feeling right now, she might well have let him!
24
She really wasn’t sure what to wear on this date – and yes, this really was a proper date, which made it feel far more pressured.
Max had texted several times since he’d contacted her. After having a chat and a bit of a heart-to-heart with Bev, Emma had sent him over a couple of suggestions for suitable supper venues – away from the prying eyes of the village this time – and he’d booked a table at Henry’s, one of Bev’s recommendations, a bistro in the pretty coastal town of Alnmouth just down the coast. Emma hadn’t been sure herself where to suggest as it had been such a long time since she had eaten out, other than a quick snack in The Fisherman's Arms or at Bev’s house. Finances hadn’t stretched to a slap-up meal-for-one for many years.
So, back to the outfit. She’d already rejected jeans – too casual; the black trousers – too work, and a low-cut top – too obvious. Back to the wardrobe. Dresses: there weren’t a huge selection of those, but she gave them a frisk over. Her Little Black Dress? Oh, she’d worn that at a Christmas Ball many years ago with Luke in Durham; they’d gone along with a group of teachers and had had such a lovely night. She sat down on the bed for a few moments, crushing the velvet to her; disappointingly, it only smelt of her, not him.
What on earth was she doing, going out on a date with another man? This just didn’t feel right. But Max would be on his way by now. It would be downright rude to cancel at the last minute.
She carefully placed the black cocktail dress back into the wardrobe, then found a green floral print wrap-around that looked promising. Not too smart, not too casual, and a colour she loved – green always contrasted well with the red of her hair. She sat at her dressing-table mirror, the dress now on, and she popped on some red lipstick which looked rather bright compared to her normal gloss. She even ventured so far as eyeshadow.
She could do this thing, she told herself. It was just a meal after all.
Her phone pinged. A text from Bev: You okay? Chosen your outfit? x
Em answered: Yes, the green dress. x
Yes, I remember that one – gorgeous, good choice! Followed swiftly by another message: You can do this. It’ll all be fine. I’m so proud of you x
Emma knew her game – she was definitely trying to make sure Em didn’t back out at the last.
She was ready; well, as ready as she ever would be, and began checking the road from her upstairs window for any sign of Max. This was all such unknown territory. The odd date she’d had so far (odd being the appropriate word) had felt strangely safe. She had kept her distance, realised it was never going to work, and then called it a day. Her technique was to just lie low for a while and not answer their calls – they soon got the idea.
But this … this felt unnervingly different.
Ooh – there he was. The grey jeep had parked outside and there was Max stepping out, holding what appeared
to be a bouquet of flowers. She took a deep breath and headed down the stairs.
Max was hovering at the entrance to the shop, dressed smartly in a navy jacket, white shirt, and dark jeans, looking slightly nervous in a cute kind of way. It was already dark outside, and the street lights glowed as a backdrop.
Max gave her a polite kiss on the cheek as he handed over a beautiful bunch of roses and carnations in shades of pink and white. Their scent was just delightful. She hadn’t been given flowers in such a long time. Aw, he’d made a real effort.
‘Your carriage awaits, madam.’ He gave a mock bow.
‘Just give me one second. The flowers, I’ll put them in water. Don’t want them to wilt, whilst we’re out.’
‘Of course.’
Emma was as quick as she could be popping them into cool water, and was soon back out, ready to jump into the passenger side of the jeep.
‘You look amazing, by the way …’ Max grinned across at her.
Emma positively glowed.
The bistro was lovely, set in an old stone house on Alnmouth High Street. They were ushered to a cosy corner with a candlelit table for two. Very nice, very romantic. No wonder Bev had set her up here; Emma would have chosen something far more casual.
They ordered a glass of wine each while they perused the menu – all sorts of delicious options. They talked about how nice it seemed there, and their work that week – safe ground.
Emma chose sea bass for main, served Asian-style with ginger and sweet chilli (she might have room for dessert, that way, not having a starter) while Max plumped for a fillet steak, medium rare. She sipped her wine, a cool, crisp Chablis, as they chatted.
Something had been troubling Emma, and she needed to know before she let herself get carried away with thoughts of this guy. ‘Max … your girlfriend. How long were you together for?’
He seemed a bit surprised by the turn in conversation. ‘Oh, just over four years.’
Wow, so it wasn’t some quick fling or anything. No wonder he’d grown fond of her parents.
‘Why are you asking? That’s all over, you know. I’m not the kind of guy to mess with two women. Not my style at all.’ He looked serious. ‘And what about you?’ He turned the conversation round. ‘You seem so cautious. So, come on Emma, what is it with you? Did some guy mistreat you, let you down? It doesn’t make us all bad, you know.’
‘No, I know.’ She tried to smile, but her face felt tight. ‘It’s not that.’ She found she couldn’t answer further. This was the wrong time and place to drag out her past. She wanted to just sit, eat, relax, and try and enjoy the here and now. It was her fault for quizzing him first.
His brow wrinkled, but he realised that was as much as she was going to say on that this evening.
‘Right, then,’ he lifted the mood. ‘Are you ready for quick-fire round?’
‘What?’ Em was confused.
He started firing questions, like they were on a speed date. ‘Your age, madam?’
‘Ah, thirty-six. Yours?’ she fired back.
‘Forty.’
Ah, so she had guessed right. He looked damned fine for a forty-year-old, mind.
‘Okay, music. Favourite band?’ he asked.
‘Coldplay.’
‘Good choice.’
‘Favourite song?’ she blasted back, grinning.
‘Ooh, ‘‘Viva la Vida’’. Yours?’
‘Coldplay tunes? ‘‘Clocks’’, ‘‘Fix You’’, ‘‘The Scientist’’.’
‘That’s cheating, you’re only allowed one.’ But he was laughing.
At that point, the meal was served. It looked and smelt amazing. Emma realised that other than going to James’s or her mum and dad’s her food options had been extremely boring of late.
In between delicious mouthfuls, he asked which was her favourite movie. She settled on The Time Traveller’s Wife, that was such a special film – she’d loved the book too.
And then, he asked, ‘Last meal on earth?’
The silence was tangible, as she felt her eyes fill with tears, and her stomach convulse. She excused herself, found the ladies’ toilet and had to just sit quietly on the loo for a while, taking slow, deep breaths.
Her phone pinged with a text, surely it wasn’t Max, she hadn’t been gone that long. It was Bev. How’s it going? x
Fine x she texted back. How could she even start to explain?
It wasn’t Max’s fault – how could he have known? So, she either had to ask to leave now, and get him to drive her home, but that would surely spoil his meal and be the end of it all, before it had even had a chance to start, or she stayed, tried to finish her supper, though her stomach was still quaking, and try and make conversation. She blew her nose, wiped her eyes, reapplied some lipstick, and headed back out.
‘Are you okay?’ he asked as she reached their table, looking genuinely concerned. ‘If you’re not well, we can just go.’
‘No, sorry about that. I’ll be fine.’
Her fish had gone cool but she forked it slowly. Max had already finished his steak dish.
‘Now, that was absolutely delicious.’ He sat back. ‘Good little place you recommended here, Emma. Been here often?’
‘Never,’ she admitted. ‘It was Bev’s choice, my friend. I don’t get to eat out that much.’
‘Ah … well, maybe we can change that.’ Hinting that there might be more dates, more them.
Emma put on her bravest face and rallied, even managing to share a chocolate pudding for dessert, a gorgeously oozing melt-in-the-middle creation. It just had to be done. They had a spoon each and pretty much demolished it within seconds.
‘Should have guessed you’d like chocolate. I hardly got a look in there,’ Max jested, with a grin.
‘Now stop exaggerating, you. Your spoon was dipping in pretty quickly, I can tell you.’
They both realised the double entendre and Em started giggling. It was lovely to be laughing.
He was easy to talk to, not bad at all to look at across the table, he liked chocolate. She felt she ought to give him a chance. His hand slipped over hers on the table top at one point and she felt a little jolt of surprise, then decided to leave her own hand there. It still felt strange, different, the thought of being with someone else, but she decided she should just go with the flow for once in her life. They shared a warm look, a gentle smile. Emma felt strangely vulnerable.
When coffee was served, she took her hand away to hold the cup. It was soon time to leave, and make the twenty-minute journey back. They shared the bill, Emma insisting; she didn’t want there to be any expectations at all, and she liked to pay her own way, despite her troubled finances.
They parked up outside The Chocolate Shop, her little haven. She could ask him in for coffee. But they’d already had coffee, and she was feeling way too confused about all this as it was. They were still in his vehicle, so she said a friendly ‘thank you’, and leaned over to give him a polite kiss on the cheek. He turned his head to meet her lips with his – and ooh!
My, he was such a good kisser, stirring up all kinds of dangerous feelings and sensations that hadn’t surfaced for a very long time. It was like he’d rewired her body.
But it was purely physical, she reminded herself. Hah! She could hear Bev’s voice in her head now, hilariously: ‘It’s about bloody time. Just get yourself back in the saddle, girl!’ which she ignored. She could get this so wrong by rushing into things and end up getting herself hurt. Why spend all these years keeping herself safe? She felt a little vulnerable already, so where the hell did it go from here? Nowhere in a rush, that was for sure. All this relationship stuff felt rather like an emotional Russian Roulette. She had let herself get carried away enough as it was.
‘Goodnight, Max. Thanks for a lovely meal, and a lovely evening.’
‘You’re so welcome, Emma.’ He looked slightly disappointed as she moved to get out of the jeep, but he seemed fine. ‘I’ve had a great time too,’ he continued. ‘Tomorrow?’ he ask
ed. ‘Are you still free for a walk in the morning?’
Oh yes, she had already agreed to that. It was only a dog walk, and she’d have to take Alfie out as it was.
‘Ah, okay, yes, that’ll be nice. Come here for, say, ten?’
‘Great, will do. Sweet dreams, Em.’
‘You too. Night.’ And she felt like someone had shaken her up like a snow globe as she watched him drive off, and head down the hill to his harbourside B&B, wondering where her emotions were going to settle.
25
Emma woke early, all the emotions of last night flooding her brain. So, she and Max were about to go on another beach walk together, stirring up memories of that first meeting on Boxing Day.
She got up and made herself a cup of tea, carrying it through to the small living room where she sat for a while with Alfie. From the cottage window, she could see it was a bright autumn day, just perfect for a wrapped-up, sandy stroll.
‘Well, Alfie, what do you think, hey? We’ll be meeting Max again soon.’ She didn’t dare mention the ‘walk’ word, as the poor dog would think it was imminent. She glanced at her watch; crikey, it was only 7.00 a.m., still three hours until they were due to meet at the beach. She might as well go and do some chocolate-making, or maybe make a tray of fudge. It would keep her busy, help allay the sugar-rush feeling of anticipation that was currently racing through her veins.
At a quarter to ten she heard a steady knocking on the shop’s main door. Em headed through, expecting to see some tourist hovering outside who hadn’t spotted the closed sign. But there was Max, looking rather gorgeous, holding a takeaway coffee, and grinning through the glass.
She unlocked the door and let him in. ‘Hi.’
‘Morning. Sorry I’m early, hope that’s okay. But I’ve just been hanging about after breakfast and thought I may as well wander up and meet you here instead.’
‘That’s fine. I was up early too. Come through a sec.’
‘I enjoyed last night.’ He looked serious as he said those words.
‘Me too. The meal was lovely … Well, I just need to grab my coat and get Alfie’s lead, ready for the walk.’ She headed towards the stairs, turning to say, ‘Grab a stool in the kitchen if you like. I won’t be long.’
The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop Page 14
