by Clare Lydon
“I let Joe select the treats. I just supplied the number.”
Kirsty, shaking her head, laughed. “You really are used to having everyone do everything for you.”
“Hey now. Joe wished every customer was like me.”
“Because you probably bought out half of his stock for the day, and he can close up early.” Kirsty picked up the box. “Given the weight, you supplied an outrageous number.”
“A dozen.”
“I can’t eat that much!”
“I’ll take what we don’t eat over to Ginger’s. Are you going to see what’s inside?” Saffron scooted to the edge of her chair.
“Probably a million calories.”
“I was gunning for a billion. Go on.”
Kirsty lifted the lid, her eyes growing large. “Oh, wow. I think you nailed the billion mark.”
Saffron leaned over to eye the goodies. “Who doesn’t love a fruit tart for breakfast?”
Kirsty placed the tart on a paper plate, giving it and a plastic fork to Saffron. “Me, I like something with a bit more class.” She winked at Saffron, putting an iced bun on her plate.
“Yes, dough with icing on top is the pinnacle of class.”
“Don’t be a hater. Even Paul Hollywood of The Great British Bake Off finds the simple delicacies scrumptious with a touch of nostalgia.” Kirsty kissed her fingertips with a flourish.
Saffron wiped her brow and ditched the fork, picking up the tart for a bite and moaning in delight. Washing it down with coffee, she said, “You have to eat my tart.”
“So early in the day.” Kirsty arched an eyebrow.
Saffron, her cheeks burning, held the tart for Kirsty, standing her ground. “You know you want to.”
Kirsty met Saffron’s gaze. “Just for you.” She took it and bit into it.
Saffron widened her eyes. “Well?”
Kirsty swiped crumbs off her chin, handed it back, and mumbled, “You’re right. It’s to die for.”
“Why didn’t you have trust?”
“Oh, I do.” Kirsty added, “In Joe.”
Saffron laughed. “Ouch, but considering you had to select the gift for my sister, I can’t really defend myself.”
“I think she’ll like the necklace.” Kirsty licked icing from a finger.
“Are you kidding? She’s going to love it.” Saffron sighed. “I need to spend more time with Ginger. It’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“Do you have another reason?”
“A couple. I needed a break, and I’ve always liked being near the water.” Saffron’s gaze wandered to the lazy waves. “I like it here.”
“I wouldn’t want to live anywhere else.”
“Maybe we can spend more time together.”
“Of course. When you visit Ginger during breaks in filming, it’d be nice to catch up.”
Saffron eyed the lighthouse, wishing it could guide her way to Kirsty’s heart, because right now, Saffron seemed to be drifting firmly in friendly waters with no hope of more.
Chapter 19
Kirsty walked along the beachfront to the back deck of Ginger’s house, finding its occupant sitting at the table squinting into her phone. Having spent years walking past this house and wondering who lived there, she was more than thrilled she could just walk in now. Especially when the owner didn’t see her coming and Kirsty could creep up on her.
She made her final steps light, then sprang forward. “Boo!”
Ginger jumped in the air, her phone leaping from her hand.
Kirsty caught it with her right hand as if it had been choreographed all along.
Ginger moved her sunglasses to sit on top of her platinum blond hair. “You can go off people, you know that?” But her blue eyes told a different story.
“You could never go off me. When it comes to the Oliver sisters, I’m like a lucky charm.” At least, she was with one Oliver sister. The other one, who the fuck knew? They were so hot and cold, she’d given up even trying to work Saffron out of late. She’d been very sweet in the market, almost as if none of the previous stuff had gone on. Why couldn’t Kirsty meet a woman with no history, no issues to work out? Did they even exist?
She sat beside Ginger, crossing one leg over the other. She returned Ginger’s phone, then fished her laptop out of her bag. No more brooding on Saffron and what might happen. She had to live in the present. Ginger’s divorce party was in a handful of days. “Ready to go over your drinks order? You’re ordering too much, so I’ve toned it down.”
Ginger held up a hand. “You don’t know my friends. If there’s booze left over, I’ll give everyone a goody bag. Leave the order as is, please.”
Kirsty raised an eyebrow, but let it go. If that’s what Ginger wanted, she could have it. She amended the order. “Next thing. Cake topper. Did you sort that?”
She got a wide grin in return. “Oh yes. Wait till you see it. I’ve been chuckling since it arrived.” She pulled her sunglasses down again, peering up into the blazing hot morning. “I need to get an umbrella for this deck. That’s something I never thought I’d say living at the UK seaside.” She sat forward. “I wanted to ask you about a suit that turned up this morning. I wondered if you’d ordered it?”
Kirsty frowned. “Not that I recall.”
Ginger blew out a breath. “That’s what I thought. I’ve been sitting here wondering if I’m going mad. My parents died too young to get dementia. My grandparents were all dead by the time I was ten. So I’ve no idea what our family history is when it comes to losing your marbles. Is this the first step? Ordering suits you don’t remember?”
“What’s it like?”
“Sparkly.” Ginger jumped up. “You know what, even though it’s not really my style and it’s a bit big, I was intrigued. Somebody’s put a lot of work into it.” She pointed a finger at Kirsty. “Stay there, I’m going to try it on. Help yourself to coffee.”
Kirsty did as she was told, pouring herself a cup from Ginger’s cafetière. Five minutes later, someone clearing their throat made her look up. She did a double take at the sight in front of her.
“Wow. You look…” Kirsty couldn’t quite find the words.
“Like a gameshow host?”
She let out a strangled laugh. “Or perhaps an extra from Studio 54.”
Ginger shook her head. “Liberace’s love child?” She looked down at the sequined silver trouser suit, tapping its shoulder pads, before stroking its black velvet lapels and pocket trim.
“If you were a pop star, you could get away with it.”
“But I’m not. I’m a web developer from Sandy Cove.”
A wolf whistle split the air. When Kirsty raised her head, Saffron was running up from the beach. Was she stalking her? It was a small town, but she didn’t bump into anyone else as much as she did Saffron.
“It came!” Saffron opened the gate, wiping sand from her jeans. Barking sounded from behind her. She ran back out to Rufus, getting down on her haunches and making a fuss of him. “See you tomorrow, Greg!” She waved them off, then came back in, closing the gate behind her.
“You found out the owner’s name, too?” Kirsty asked, impressed.
Saffron nodded. “It seemed rude not to.”
Ginger cleared her throat. “What did you just say? This was you?” She swept a hand up and down in front of her.
Her sister nodded. “I know you said you didn’t want the Milan treatment, but I asked my LA stylist anyway, seeing as you say no to most things I suggest.” Saffron touched one of the sleeves that Ginger had rolled up.
“That’s because they’re more for you, not for me.” She eyed her sister. “In fact, this would look far better on you. Fit you better, too. It’s younger, more hip. You could pull it off because you’re a movie star. Whereas on me, it looks a little… Boogie Nights.”
Saffron’s shoulders slumped. “I was just trying to surprise you. Do a nice thing. But I can send it back.”
Ginger walked over, taking her sister in her arms.
She was a few inches shorter, so Saffron put her head on her shoulder.
“It was a nice gesture, but I can buy my own clothes, okay? You should try it on.”
Saffron nodded. “I might. Pack it back up and I’ll take it home.” She untangled herself from Ginger and sat next to Kirsty. “Nice surprise seeing you here.”
“Same.” Kirsty hadn’t meant to be so honest, but she couldn’t help it. Saffron brought it out of her. Whatever it was between them, the heat of it was far stronger than the sun.
Saffron’s cheeks turned pink as she looked anywhere but at Kirsty. She cleared her throat and glanced over at Ginger. “Anyway, the reason I’m here is because I decided I want to get a cocktail tonight. I thought I’d ask my sister to join me.”
Ginger frowned. “Tonight? Hell, no. I’ve got a mobile beauty lady coming round to pamper me stupid.” She pointed. “Ask Kirsty. I’m going to get out of this suit before an agent walks by and signs me up for the remake of Saturday Night Fever.”
Saffron rolled her eyes. “Very droll.” When Ginger was gone, she turned to Kirsty, her sure tone faltering. “What do you think of Ginger’s idea? A cocktail with me later?”
Kirsty blew out her cheeks. Was that wise? “It sounds suspiciously like a date, which we agreed we weren’t going to go on.”
Saffron moved her mouth one way, then the other. “It’s not a date. It’s an outing. Just two friends having a drink.”
“You really believe that?”
“With all my heart.” Saffron crossed her own, just so Kirsty understood.
“An outing?”
“Uh-huh. Pick you up at 7.30?”
Kirsty looked her dead in the eye. Saffron would make a terrible poker player. “7.30.”
An impromptu outing. Not a date. An outing.
What the fuck did she wear to an outing? Because for all their stop-start so far, Kirsty and Saffron had never actually gone out in the evening just the two of them. No family or friends. Just them. Which made this a very strange non-date.
Should she have said no? Probably. But it was her night off, and she was still in her 40s. She might as well live a little while she could. She’d said something similar to her mum this week and had been clunked over the head with a tea towel. In her mum’s world, Kirsty was definitely not old.
Tonight, she was going out with a hot movie star, so she was going to channel her inner 35-year-old. It wasn’t that long ago. She could totally pull it off.
Luckily, she was on top of her laundry, so her perfect outfit was clean. She sent up a silent prayer to a god she didn’t believe in. It couldn’t hurt to have as many people as possible on her side tonight.
For this non-date.
Very much a non-date.
7pm rolled around sooner than she thought. Kirsty took a breath, recalling the scorched look from Saffron earlier. Had it been scorched? Or had it just been in her imagination? She’d soon find out. She steadied her hand as she applied foundation, mascara, powder, and a little lipstick. She studied herself, then gave a nod. She could pass for late 30s.
Nearly game time.
Kirsty tried waiting on her sofa, but she couldn’t sit still. She hoovered her sofa cushions. Dusted the coffee table. Straightened her copies of Decanter.
When she checked her watch, it was still only 7.15.
Her phone beeped.
Kirsty’s stomach sank. If Saffron was cancelling, she was going to punch something.
It was from Helena, asking her to come down to confirm some website login details.
Kirsty jumped up, checked she had all the essentials in her bag and went downstairs. When she walked in the shop, Helena’s eyes widened.
“I don’t think I’ve seen you this dressed to kill since… Well, I can’t remember. That’s how long it’s been.”
“It’s not too over the top, is it? Too much for a Monday?” Maybe she should have gone for jeans rather than tapered orange trousers and a figure-hugging shirt? It was just a cocktail on the harbour, after all.
They weren’t going out-out.
Helena shook her head. “No, it’s perfect. It’s just, your hair, your make-up, the whole ensemble.” She paused. “I love that shirt. The hot pink is fabulous on you. And your shoes.”
Kirsty’s feet were adorned with freshly shined two-tone brogues.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wear those again. They’re at least three levels up from your slippers.”
The blood rushed to Kirsty’s cheeks. “Thanks.” She wasn’t comfortable in the spotlight. Whereas Saffron’s job was literally to be in it. But she wasn’t going to focus on that now.
“Only, with your shirt showing that much cleavage, she won’t be looking at your shoes, trust me.”
Kirsty really hoped the make-up was covering the pink of her cheeks.
“You wanted the website details? It’s all in the logbook, in the drawer.” She pointed under the counter. “I loved the new illustrations Anton sent through. Can’t wait to see the new promo pages, too. When Ginger gets the online shop going, we should get some new business.” Kirsty beamed. “Thanks for doing this. You’ve really stepped up of late.”
Helena gave her a wink. “Anything to drum up new business. Anton’s putting the finishing touches to it this week, pulling all the images I’ve snapped for the promo pages from my cloud. At least, that’s what he told me, so I believe him. I had to check there were no dodgy ones of me or Hugh in there before I gave him access.”
Kirsty made a face. “TMI.”
The shop door opened and Saffron walked in. Suddenly, all thoughts of Helena and Hugh vanished. Saffron looked every inch the movie star. Her trousers were low-slung, her low-buttoned shirt an invitation, and her open biker boots screamed sex bomb.
This was Kirsty’s non-date for the evening.
It was as if she’d been transported to a far-off lesbian dreamscape. She concentrated hard on not letting her jaw hit the floor.
“I saw you through the window.” Saffron hesitated. “You ready to go from here?”
Kirsty nodded, her throat suddenly too dry to talk. She turned to Helena, not meeting her wide-eyed stare, wanting to get out of the shop as quick as she could.
Somehow, this moment was way too intimate to be shared, and they hadn’t even got out of the shop yet.
She wasn’t sure how she was going to cope.
“Have fun!” Helena shouted as they left.
Kirsty guided them out of view down the High Street before she risked a glance at Saffron.
The heat in Saffron’s stare made her stop in her tracks. Her eyes raked Kirsty’s body.
Kirsty stood stock still, balling her fists so tight she was sure to leave a mark.
“You look amazing,” Saffron said. “I feel like I should kiss you on the cheek at least, but it’s a non-date.”
Kirsty nodded. “Right.”
“High five?”
Kirsty gave her a look. “Let’s just walk to the bar, shall we?”
Saffron did as she was told.
Kirsty tried to regulate her breathing. It wasn’t easy. “By the way, you look incredible, too.”
Chapter 20
Saffron continued to sneak glimpses of Kirsty as they walked—no, strolled to the bar. Damn, the woman was the definition of smoking hot and it was going to take a lot of self-control not to keep saying that.
Kirsty cranked her head, looking at Saffron, with a raised brow that meant business.
Uh oh. Think, Saffron. “This is nice, isn’t it? Two friends, lackadaisically making their way for a friendly night out.”
“I-it is.” The words escaped Kirsty hesitantly, as if waiting for the punchline. “Was that your way of saying I’m walking too slowly?”
“Not at all.” Saffron bumped her shoulder into Kirsty. “I might be getting the hang of this.”
“Of what?”
“Enjoying the moment, not rushing from one place to the next. And, with you, which makes it extra nice.” Saffron fli
nched. Kirsty had been clear. This didn’t qualify as a date, so it was paramount not to utter statements like that. Was there a way to suck those words back into her mouth?
Kirsty stopped in her tracks. “Do we need to define what this is again?”
“It most definitely isn’t a date.” Saffron ground her thumb into her palm but couldn’t stop herself from grinning like a fool.
“Your smile says differently.” Kirsty also seemed to be losing the whatever you do, don’t grin battle.
“This is just how I am when I’m totally relaxed. It must be the sea air. It’s done more for me than three years of painful massage treatments.” Saffron shook her arms out and rolled her neck, the smile still firmly affixed.
“You kind of look like a creepy doll.”
“Your digs aren’t going to work.” Saffron briefly clasped a hand around Kirsty’s, but quickly dropped it. “Here we are. Let me get the door. Not because it’s a date. It’s just the right thing to do.” She yanked it open, expecting it to be much heavier than it was, smashing it into her forehead, nearly knocking herself over. “I’m okay. That was totally planned.”
“Yeah, right. I never would have guessed an action star would actually be so clumsy.” Kirsty chuckled.
“If you could keep that morsel to yourself, I’d greatly appreciate it. I’ve got a rep to protect.” Saffron pressed a finger to her lips, delighting in seeing Kirsty’s gaze skim along the finger and landing on the lips. Kirsty visibly swallowing.
Inside the Harbour Bar, Saffron spied a high table with two stools, and placed a hand on the small of Kirsty’s back, guiding them, pleasantly surprised Kirsty didn’t break the contact. That had to be a good sign, but probably best to keep playing it cool. Or Kirsty would continue to call Saffron out, and she hated hearing how they were only friends.
Saffron pretended to hold an order pad. “What can I get you, Ms?”
Kirsty, though, stared past Saffron as if she’d seen a dead relative spring back to life.
Saffron stood closer. “You okay?”
“It’s Anna.”
Saffron started to turn her head—
