‘It’s nothing really, just a faint white scar now, but at the time I was so small that it looked far worse. And there was rather a lot of blood.’
‘Your poor thing. That must have been terrifying.’ Fran shook her head. ‘No wonder you’re scared of dogs.’
‘It wasn’t a great childhood experience and made me very wary of them.’
‘Well, of course it would. No one wants to lose a chunk of their bottom to a dog bite.’
‘The owner was horrified and explained that the dog was still basically a pup but my parents were furious, especially my mum. She would have had the dog put down but the owner promised to take it to training classes and to never let it off lead in public places again, so she relented.’
‘What about you, though?’
‘I couldn’t sit down properly for a while but I guess it could have been worse.’
Fran nodded. ‘It could have been far worse. It was lucky it wasn’t your face or neck.’
‘And that is why I’m nervous around dogs. In my experience, they’re unpredictable. It makes me worry for Tilly because she’s so keen to pet any animal she encounters and even though I’ve warned her that not all dogs are friendly, she still approaches them. Sometimes my heart is in my mouth when we go out.’
‘Yes, she does need to be a bit more careful because some dogs are nervous around children, although I can’t imagine Tilly invading a dog’s space in a way that would make it nervous enough to react aggressively. Dogs can be unpredictable, but when you’re around them a lot you get to know them and to understand their body language. I would never leave a small child alone with a dog, but as long as they’re trained and feel secure in their environment, they can be loyal and protective companions.’
The dog on her lap turned its head and licked her chin.
‘This little one will make a lovely pet once he’s calmed down and accepted that not everyone is out to hurt or abandon him. It’s about trust and mutual respect.’
‘A bit like people, then.’ Ethan stumbled over his words, knowing he’d revealed more than he intended. ‘What I mean is… that when we get hurt, it can take us time to heal and to accept that not everyone is out to get us or abandon us.’
‘Exactly.’ Fran nodded. ‘Trust has to be earned.’
‘Thanks for the coffee.’ Ethan drained his mug then set it on the table.
‘Any time.’
‘I guess I should get back. Cakes to bake and all that.’
‘If you don’t have to rush off right this minute… would you like to see my studio?’
Ethan met Fran’s pretty eyes. ‘I’d love to see it. Thank you.’
He hadn’t wanted to leave but also didn’t want to impose if Fran had things she needed to do. This was the perfect excuse to stay a bit longer at her invitation.
‘Come on then.’
Fran stood up and gently set the small dog on the floor, then led the way through the kitchen and through a door into a small extension.
* * *
Fran had been surprised to see Ethan on her doorstep that morning but also pleased. After he’d seemed afraid of the dogs, when he’d come to get the box of mugs for the tea shop, she’d been disappointed, but today he’d made an effort to explain why he was afraid of them and no wonder! If she’d been bitten by a dog as a child, and lost part of her bottom, she’d probably have felt the same.
She led him into her studio then closed the door behind her. The studio was warm from the log burner in the corner and brightly lit from the strip lights overhead. She needed to have good lighting in here so she could see exactly what she was doing. On summer days, there was plenty of natural light flooding in through the big windows, but on dark winter days and in the evenings when she had a project she needed to finish, she was glad of the electric lighting.
Ethan wandered around, peering at the work on the shelves ready to be boxed up and at the works in progress. The painting she was working on for Holly and Rich was on her easel, covered by a dust sheet.
‘What’s under here?’ he asked, fingering the corner of the sheet.
‘It’s a gift for Holly and Rich. They’re getting married after Christmas so I’m painting them a landscape of Greenacres.’
‘Are you one of those artists who doesn’t like people looking at their work until it’s finished?’ he asked.
Fran nodded. ‘Sorry.’
‘Hey, don’t apologise. I respect that. I’m the same when I’m baking a wedding cake. I guess it’s superstition really, but it’s a bit like the idea that the bride and groom shouldn’t see each other before the wedding in case it leads to bad luck. I always worry that something will go wrong and I’ll have to start from scratch and it’s a lot of work.’
‘You make wedding cakes?’
‘Sometimes.’ He shrugged. ‘They’re not my speciality but I do make them from time to time. At the moment, even though it’s a bit late in the day and they won’t have time to mature as well as I’d like, I need to focus on making more Christmas cakes, especially if we’re going to go ahead with our open doors for dinner on Christmas Day.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Last night, over dinner, we were talking about what we could do at the tea shop over the festive season and we agreed that we’d like to open the doors on Christmas Day to anyone who might be otherwise lonely. We’ll offer a free dinner and company and a chance for people to be with others instead of being alone.’
A flush spread across Fran’s décolletage. What a thoughtful man.
‘Ethan, that’s wonderful!’
He nodded. ‘I think so too.’
‘Lots of people don’t have anyone and to know that there’s somewhere they could go on Christmas Day for company and delicious food will be such a lift for them.’
‘What do you do on the big day?’
‘Sometimes I’m here alone with the dogs, sometimes I go to Greenacres and sometimes my parents are home. They won’t be here this year though.’
‘So… will you be going to Greenacres?’
She met his beautiful green eyes. ‘I have been invited but I also don’t like to impose. Holly and her family are lovely but this year they have so much on with their baby, Luke, and her granny Glenda has been a bit under the weather and they have the wedding right after Christmas and—’
‘Then come to Rosewood!’
They both froze. Ethan’s eyes widened. Fran’s heart thudded in her chest.
‘Shall I? I could help with everything. I’d see to the dogs in the morning then drive over for a few hours before coming home afterwards.’
He nodded. ‘Yes, come. There’ll be plenty to do and it would be lovely to have you there.’
‘Okay… I will.’
Fran was warmed right through by the offer and by the prospect of spending Christmas Day doing something worthwhile instead of just stuffing her face with turkey and consuming her bodyweight in chocolate or feeling that she was imposing on Holly’s family. It wasn’t that they ever made her feel unwelcome or as if she was imposing, but Holly had Rich and Luke and another baby on the way. The last thing she needed was more pressure and another mouth to feed, and although Fran would have helped with the cooking and washing up and so on, now she had an alternative and Holly wouldn’t feel bad if Fran didn’t go to Greenacres. Plus, she would get to spend Christmas Day with Ethan and Tilly, as well as Audrey and her family – all people she really liked and enjoyed being around. It sounded perfect.
‘So this is your potter’s wheel, eh?’
Ethan had straddled the stool attached to the table with the wheel on it. His long legs were bent at the knees and Fran couldn’t help noticing how muscular his thighs were in his jeans, hinting at the fact that he exercised regularly. She wondered how firm they would be if she touched them, if she ran her hands over them and up to…
She shook herself from the fantasy. What was happening to her?
‘Would you like to have a go?’ Fran forced the image of Eth
an’s naked thighs from her mind.
‘I’ve never tried this before, but isn’t it really difficult?’
‘It takes some getting used to but it can be a lot of fun once you’ve mastered the skillset.’
‘Go on then, but I’ll probably be rubbish.’
‘I bet you’ll be a natural.’ Was it hot in the studio today? She ran the back of her hand over her forehead.
‘I’ll give it my best shot.’ He grinned and his face lit up.
Fran handed him a lump of clay. ‘Right… the first thing you need to do is to prepare the clay, which means that you need to get all the air out of it.’
‘Why’s that?’
‘It can cause the clay to crack during firing, which will ruin whatever you’ve made.’
‘Okay, so how do I get the air out?’
‘You knead it like bread dough. You should be good at that.’
‘I am good at making bread.’ He nodded.
Ethan started to knead the clay and Fran watched, mesmerised, as his strong hands worked it, turning it easily and expertly, twisting it to compress it so that the tiny air bubbles popped. She could have watched him work like that all day, and realised that she’d like to watch him making bread dough one day too. The bonus with that might be that she’d get to eat it afterwards and she did love freshly baked bread.
‘Is it ready now?’ he asked, holding it up for her inspection.
‘It looks good. Now we need to put the bat on the wheel to provide a surface for the clay.’
Fran selected one from her range and attached it to the wheel.
‘What am I making?’ he asked, a smile playing on his lips.
‘How about a bowl? You could give it to Audrey for Christmas.’
‘Brilliant idea.’
‘Place the clay on the centre of the bat and start the wheel.’
Ethan did as he was told.
‘Now apply water to the clay and push it up and down to ensure there’s no wobble.’
‘No… what?’
‘It means make sure that it’s centred so you don’t lose control of the clay.’
‘Okay…’
Fran stepped closer to Ethan. She was almost touching him and she could feel the heat emanating from his large frame. She watched carefully as he tried to run his hands up and down the clay. This was always tricky for beginners and she bit her lip as he struggled to keep control of the slippery wet lump.
‘You need to open the clay up.’
‘How?’ He glanced at her, panic in his eyes.
‘Hold on.’
She leant over and placed her hands on the clay too, helping him to steady it, then guiding his other hand to the middle and pushing his thumb down into the centre. She was so close to him she could smell his sandalwood cologne and the clean fresh scent of his skin. She could feel his warmth against the side of her body and every so often, as she moved, his blonde hair tickled her cheek.
She turned her head and found him gazing up at her and her eyes wantonly roamed his face, his mouth, his broad shoulders, the way that his Adam’s apple bobbed. On the plate, the clay collapsed and fluttered to one side, forgotten, but Ethan and Fran’s hands remained joined, sticky with wet clay, their fingers sliding together.
Before she could stop herself, Fran had turned and wrapped her arms around Ethan’s neck and they were nose to nose, forehead to forehead and mouth to mouth. They kissed gently, exploring each other tentatively, and as the kiss deepened, Fran moaned with desire. She had never experienced such a connection with a man before and she wanted more…
When Ethan pulled away gently, Fran almost cried with disappointment.
The kiss had been so sweet, his lips full and sensual under hers. Everything inside her had felt alive, on fire, illuminated, and her chest heaved with yearning and longing as something deep inside her unfolded, loosened, opened.
Ethan held her there, perched on his one knee as he gasped, his cheeks red, his pupils dilated, his brows meeting in a frown of confusion.
‘Ethan… I’m sorry. I don’t know how that happened. I don’t make a habit of bringing men in here to seduce them at my pottery wheel.’ Her voice was husky, betraying her lust.
He shook his head. ‘I didn’t think that you did, it’s just that… it was amazing… but… we can’t do this.’
‘No…’ Fran frowned. ‘Why not?’ She wanted to pull him closer and to kiss him again, to wrap her legs around him and surrender to the sensations and the yearning flooding through her body. Need was overtaking reason and she wanted to submit to it like never before.
‘I… I have Tilly and… you’re… pregnant. And isn’t there a father on the scene too?’
It was as if someone had dropped a bucket of icy water over Fran’s head. Of course! The fictional pregnancy. A partner she hadn’t yet thought about. What was she going to do about that?
Bloody hell!
Fran stood up on shaky legs and took a few deep breaths. She couldn’t believe the effect Ethan had upon her. So that was what desire felt like. She’d been with men before and enjoyed their company and the physical side of things but it had never felt like that. Ethan was just… Wow! And they had only shared a kiss, so she couldn’t imagine what making love to him would feel like.
But now she would never find out because he thought she was pregnant and possibly had a partner on the scene. She wanted to tell him that there was no man around, no father to her fictional baby, but if she started that conversation she would have to tell even more lies, so perhaps it was better just to leave the dust to settle. And, of course, Ethan had to put his daughter first, which was admirable.
‘Would you like another coffee?’ she asked, keen to try to act as if what had just happened, hadn’t happened at all. She wiggled her fingers, suddenly aware of how sticky they were and how it wouldn’t be easy to leave this moment behind; it would cling to them like cold, wet clay if they didn’t make the effort to move on. Their skin would be stained with grey traces of clay; their hearts would be grey too, devoid of any colour after the beauty of this moment when everything had seemed so bright and clear. She didn’t want that, didn’t want to lose Ethan completely, so they had to put this behind them and become good friends as she hoped they could be.
‘A cool drink would be great, thanks.’ He smiled, but there was tension in the way he held himself and wariness in his eyes and it saddened her.
‘Sure. I’ll go and get us something.’ She washed her hands in the sink in the studio, picking the clay from her nails and the creases of her knuckles, then went through to the kitchen, leaving Ethan behind so he could wash his hands and take a few moments to recover.
As she filled two glasses with water, Fran was chilled right through. She really liked Ethan but he’d made it clear that nothing could ever happen between them. It seemed so unfair, but then their situation was hardly ideal. Of course he had to think of his daughter and then there was the pregnancy that Fran hated deceiving him about, but what else could she do? Fran had made a promise to Holly and she had to keep it, even if that promise involved keeping a secret that was part of the reason why she couldn’t get close to the first man she had liked this much in her whole life.
Chapter 9
After school finished on Friday, Ethan picked Tilly up and took her home to Rosewood. She changed into jeans, a jumper and boots then ate the snack that he prepared for her. They had closed the tea shop at two so they could get everything ready for the annual tree-decorating event. It was something that Ethan recalled from his childhood and he had good memories of joining in, with his mum and dad looking on, feeling happy and secure at the way his mum’s love and approval filled her eyes. Audrey told him that it was a big event now and that lots of villagers came to participate.
He’d been baking all day: mince pies, gingerbread stars, iced elves and evergreen trees, and putting the finishing touches on the ten Christmas cakes. He’d made some savoury snacks including cheese straws, mini three cheese pizzas a
nd turkey, sage and cranberry puff pastry parcels. The kitchen at the tea rooms had smelt incredibly festive and it had made him look forward to Christmas Day in a way that he hadn’t done in a long time.
It had been a strange week, as after his trip to see Fran to deliver his apology, he’d been even more confused than before. He’d been having fun trying out his hand at pottery, aware that something was electrifying the air between them, but trying to act as if he hadn’t noticed because he didn’t intend on acting upon it. Then Fran had tried to help him with the clay, and things had gone wrong. Or was it right? It had felt pretty damned right when they touched and when they kissed but it couldn’t possibly be right because he had Tilly to consider and Fran had a baby on the way and possibly a partner – although she still hadn’t confirmed or denied the latter. But it didn’t matter one way or the other, because Ethan was in no place to get involved with someone. So why had his heart pounded as they’d kissed and why had he dreamt about her every time he’d closed his eyes to sleep since it had happened? In his dreams she was wearing those dungarees with her cute headscarf, and had clay on her hands, her arms and her cheeks. They’d embraced and kissed, then he’d removed those dungarees and the things he’d imagined happening when he’d actually been in her studio had unfolded. He woke from the dreams frustrated and sad, because they couldn’t become reality, and it seemed that his unconscious mind was craving the beautiful artist and trying to tempt him with more thoughts about her. He had to admit that he found Fran completely enchanting and he had no idea how to deal with the feelings she evoked inside him. He didn’t want to feel them, and yet, he did. He didn’t want to surrender to them, and yet, he did. It was all so bewildering and yet so… exciting.
‘Daddy?’ Tilly interrupted his thoughts.
‘Yes, my angel?’
‘Should I wear my bobble hat this evening?’
‘I think so, Tilly. It’s very cold out already and it’s probably a good idea to take your gloves too.’
The Christmas Tea Shop at Rosewood Page 11
