by Beth Good
Well, she could perfectly understand that. One of the top young entrepreneurs in Cornwall would hardly have wanted to get tangled up with someone like her, a nobody from an obscure café in the back of beyond.
No wonder he was desperate to escape, now she knew the truth and Pansy had turned up in person to check out how the tea rooms were doing. There was no longer any reason for him to be here.
‘Charlie?’ he asked softly, watching her. ‘You do believe me, don’t you? That I didn’t mean for you and I to … ’
‘To start bonking like rabbits?’
He looked at her steadily for a moment. ‘To start sleeping together, yes.’
‘Well, shit happens.’ His phone chimed again, and she glanced at it. Another text was lit up on the screen. His employees, probably, screaming for him to return. ‘You must be relieved to be going back to your … your chain.’
‘I’ve been missed,’ he said grudgingly.
‘I bet.’ She remembered the long walks he’d taken most evenings, along the harbour or over the headland. ‘No wonder you always took your phone with you on those walks. You must have been talking business the whole time.’
His face tightened. ‘Not the whole time,’ he said slowly, ‘but yes, that was why I took my phone. A business that big doesn’t run itself. And right now we’re negotiating the acquisition of a new property.’ He paused, his face thoughtful. It was clear he was already thinking about his other job. His other life. Maybe his other women too. The ones he would be going back to now. ‘I’m thinking of expanding into Devon, in fact.’
‘Well, that’s amazing. And I wish you a very satisfying expansion.’ She picked up his phone and threw it towards him. He caught it one-handed, then stared at her in surprise. ‘But I don’t need your Darren Gherkin.’
‘Pickles,’ he corrected her.
‘Whatever.’ She drew herself up, raising her chin. ‘I’ll find a replacement for you myself. You can keep your poxy chef.’
‘For God’s sake, Charlie – ’
‘And you can leave right now.’ She gestured with a jerk of her head to the kitchen door. ‘Collect your stuff from upstairs, and call yourself a taxi back to Truro. I’m very grateful to you for everything you’ve done for me and the tea room,’ she added prettily, and even impressed herself by managing a smile too, even if it was from behind gritted teeth. ‘But why draw this out with a long goodbye? I’ll call Maisy in if she’s available. And I can always close early if we can’t cope.’
‘I can understand you being angry,’ he began, but she interrupted him, suddenly furious.
‘Can you, Gideon? Can you really?’ She picked up a red checked tea towel and threw it at his head. He ducked it, blinking, his expression astonished. ‘You slept with me, for pity’s sake.’ She chucked another tea towel at him, and then another. Then another. ‘You lied to me, you seduced me, you made me feel something for you, and now … Now you stand there and tell me you’re leaving. And sending me a pre-paid pickle to take your place.’
‘Darren,’ he gasped, ducking red checked tea towels left and right. ‘His name’s Darren. And he’s very good.’
‘But is he any good in bed? That’s the real question.’ She ran out of tea towels, and lunged for the sink, throwing a wet sponge at him instead. Then a large wire pot scourer that clipped him on the ear, making him grunt, astonished at her violence. ‘Is Darren going to make me dinner and pour me wine in the evenings after work? Is he going to know what music I like? Is Darren going to stroke my ginger tom the same way you do?’
He dragged a red checked tea towel off his head, where it had landed in a haphazard manner, and strode towards her.
‘Oh no you don’t,’ she shrieked, and ran around the table.
He pursued her grimly.
‘Get away from me,’ she warned him as he cornered her by the fridge. She picked up a large, two-pronged metal fork, waving it at him threateningly. ‘Or I’ll hurt you.’
‘I thought this was what you wanted,’ he said, breathless from the pursuit. ‘Me gone, out of your life. I thought you were desperate to see the back of me.’
‘I am.’
‘So what’s the problem? I thought you hated me for lying to you about Pansy, so I kept quiet about the rest.’ He shook his head. ‘I knew you’d despise me once you knew about my restaurant chain too. That you’d call me a fake. That’s why I didn’t mention it.’
‘Oh, your bloody chain. La-di-bloody-da. You’re so high and mighty with your chain of restaurants and your entrepreneur accolades, I’m surprised you could be deigned to lower yourself to sleeping with a peasant like me, with my one, very obscure tea room that’s barely even on the tourist map yet.’
‘I am not high and mighty.’ He glared at her past the safety barrier of the two-pronged fork being shoved in his face. ‘And I didn’t have to lower myself.’
‘I seem to remember you lowering yourself several times, actually.’
There was a hard flush in his cheeks now. ‘Very funny.’
‘Only now you’ve lost interest in the nobody, so you’re off home again, back to your glorious chain and your big house and your poor, mashed-up motorbike.’
‘What?’ He pushed away the metal fork. ‘What are you saying?’
‘You know what I’m saying.’
‘You’re the one who turned me away, remember?’
‘Because you’re a great big fibber!’
‘I was keeping a promise to Pansy,’ he said between clenched teeth. ‘I had no choice.’
‘Oh, of course not. Because the promise you made to my aunt in Australia was far more important than telling the truth to the one you were poking.’
‘I was not … poking you.’
‘Yes, you were. Like this.’ She poked him in the chest with the two-pronged fork. Sharply, and very deliberately. Then lower down in his belly. His very hard, flat abdomen. ‘And this.’ Then lower still, more daringly. ‘And that.’
He sucked in his breath, watching her intently. ‘Poke me with that devil’s fork one more time, and I swear I’ll – ’
A man with a florid complexion and a brash Hawaiian shirt poked his head in through the serving hatch. ‘Excuse me, we’ve been waiting out here for fifteen minutes. Is there any chance of some service?’
‘No, there isn’t, so get lost,’ Gideon told the man sharply, and grabbed hold of her.
Charlie tried to slap him and only succeeded in dropping the two-pronged fork.
‘Let me go!’ she shrieked.
‘Good God, what on earth … ?’ The man was staring at them both in horror. ‘Miss, is this man bothering you?’
‘Yes,’ she shouted.
His eyes bulged and his colour rose. ‘Should I … should I call the police?’
‘No!’
The man looked perplexed. ‘No?’
Gideon looked round at the man. ‘This is the woman I intend to marry. Now would you please mind your own business and get out of my kitchen?’ he told him, before turning back to Charlie. ‘And you can shut up too.’
‘Don’t you dare tell me to shut up, you great big bully …’ she began, feeling quite heated, and was only silenced when he bent his head and kissed her.
Oh, my giddy aunt, she thought in a crazy wave of heat, and then just as abruptly and in a state of shock realised what he had said to the man.
This is the woman I intend to marry.
He couldn’t possibly mean it though. Could he?
Then Gideon scooped her up off her feet, set her on the edge of the kitchen table, and Charlie lost all hope of coherent thought …
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
A few wildly pleasurable minutes later, her aunt Pansy wandered into the kitchen with her tray of dirty plates and cups, and nearly dropped it in shock.
‘Gideon!’ she exclaimed, finding them in a compromising position. Then added, ‘Charlotte!’ in a tone of even deeper shock. Then she giggled. ‘Oh my!’
‘Oh!’ was the only thing Charlie
could manage to say, red-faced. She scrambled off the kitchen table and tidied her clothing with her back turned to the door.
‘A couple came out just now, looking rather cross,’ her aunt said with a smile in her voice, sliding her heavy tray onto the space on the kitchen table that Charlie’s bottom had just vacated. ‘The man told some of your other customers not to bother waiting. That you’d both gone stark staring mad.’
‘More like come to our senses,’ Gideon said softly.
When Charlie looked round a moment later, finally decent again, she found both of them watching her, and blushed deeply. ‘What?’
Her aunt laughed, and bustled out. ‘I think I’d better put the closed sign on the door. I doubt there’s going to be much baking going on today. Despite the heat in this kitchen … ’
When Pansy had gone, Gideon searched her face as though trying and failing to read her thoughts. ‘Charlotte Bell,’ he said deeply, but with a sudden strange hesitancy too, ‘I have to tell you something.’
‘Yes?’
‘You,’ he said, ‘are the most annoying, gorgeous, surprising, and downright sexy woman I’ve ever had the misfortune to get into an argument with.’
‘Oh,’ she said happily, gazing at him.
‘And I think, if you can forgive me for having a chain of swanky restaurants – ’
‘And a chef called Pickles.’
‘And a chef called Pickles,’ he repeated obediently, ‘and if you don’t mind the fact that I snore – ’
‘I do mind a bit.’
‘Then I’ll buy one of those anti-snoring devices.’
She held her nose with two fingers. ‘Like this, with a clothes peg, you mean?’
‘Not quite, but if you insist on pegging my nose to stop me from snoring, I suppose it will be a small price to pay for being with you.’
‘Okay, that’s good enough for me.’
‘Great.’ He frowned. ‘Sorry, where was I?’
‘You were snoring.’
‘Oh yes, thank you,’ Gideon said, and then fixed his dark gaze on her in the most romantic, knee-trembling, heart-thawing way ever, ‘then will you – ’
‘Is this a marriage proposal?’ she interrupted him.
He blinked. ‘Well, it was meant to be, yes. The start of one anyway,’ he added with a touch of exasperation. ‘Assuming I can ever get a word in edgeways.’
Charlie’s eyes had stretched wide when he said ‘Yes’.
She had never been a hugely sentimental person. But since she only intended to get married once in her life, and this was the man she intended to marry, she was determined to get the full marriage experience.
No corner-cutting.
‘Down on one knee!’ she now squeaked, pointing to the tiled kitchen floor. ‘I’ve always wanted a handsome man to propose to me on one knee.’
‘You think I’m handsome?’
She laughed at his eager tone, then stopped herself from nodding and bit her lip instead. Treat ‘em mean, keep ‘em keen. There had to be a reason for that saying.
‘Maybe a little bit handsome,’ she ventured, careful not to let him see how sexy she found him. Even though she had probably given it away once or twice. Okay, definitely twice. ‘Definitely not as hot as Poldark. But you’re … passable. It wouldn’t be a hardship to be seen in public with you, let me put it like that. Especially in a posh car,’ she added shamelessly. ‘Or on board a yacht on the Cornish Riviera. Where I very much hope to be spending my honeymoon.’
‘In that case … ’ He half-smiled, then sank to one knee, surrounded by crumpled, red checked tea towels, and held out his hand for hers. ‘Charlotte Bell,’ he repeated, grasping her hand firmly, ‘will you do me the honour of becoming my wife?’
She gurgled with delight and joy.
Gideon hesitated. ‘Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Was that a yes or a no?’
‘Yes!’
‘Yes, it was a yes?’ he asked, staring up at her, still down on one knee. ‘Or yes, it was a no?’
‘The former.’
He thought about that, then gave a long sigh. ‘Thank God.’ He stood up, carefully dusted off his knee, and took her in his arms. His smile warmed her heart. ‘I love you, by the way.’
‘Oh yes,’ she said blankly. ‘I love you too. Sorry, I’d forgotten about that bit.’
‘Thinking too much about my posh car and my yacht, I expect.’
‘Of course,’ Charlie said with a cheeky smile, adding unrepentantly, ‘And the all-male crew in their tight, white deck shorts. Which, if you haven’t got yet, you’d better start hiring.’
Thank you for reading this Beth Good romcom novella!
Keep reading …
A first chapter extract from THE ODDEST LITTLE GINGERBREAD SHOP
Beth Good
CHAPTER ONE
‘Turn right on road,’ the disembodied voice repeated.
Sophie Soper glared at her dysfunctional Sat Nav.
‘Turn right on road? What road? Could you possibly be a little more specific?’ The dark winding road ahead mocked her. Black tree shapes to the left, black tree shapes to the right. No discernible road anywhere. ‘There is no road, trust me.’
Yet there on the Sat Nav was a small chequered flag immediately down a road to her right, indicating the end of her journey.
‘You have reached your destination,’ the Sat Nav announced, as though determined to undermine the evidence of her eyes.
‘No, I’ve reached a dark, spooky wood.’ Sophie knew she had finally lost all patience when she heard herself correct the annoying machine as though it was human. ‘Ten minutes ago, I was on a nice, well-lit main road, heading in the right direction. Then I took that left turning, and here I am in the middle of a wood, with nothing ahead of me, nothing behind. Nothing to be seen, in fact.’
‘You have reached your destination,’ the Sat Nav woman repeated, her tone almost smug.
‘Yeah, whatever. Thanks for nothing. I’m obviously lost.’
Sophie slowed to a crawl, glancing in her mirror. She could see headlights behind her, but they were still a fair way off. She slammed the car into first gear, and performed a hurried three point turn in the narrow road. The forest on either side looked dark and unfriendly. And very cold.
‘Now I have to try and find that main road again. Perhaps there was a road sign I missed. Something helpful like, Conference this way.’
She half expected a snort of derision from the Sat Nav.
Thankfully, it remained silent.
Sophie straightened up and headed back the way she had come, with a quick glance at the digital clock on the dashboard. It was a little after five o’clock on a very cold December evening, and she was supposed to be at the conference meet-and-greet for six pm sharp.
‘I wanted a shower first, and to change my clothes for the social.’ Sophie slammed her foot down on the accelerator. ‘Instead, I’m probably going to miss the meet-and-greet altogether. At a business conference for Time Management and Efficiency. How’s that going to make me look?’
But the Sat Nav had no reply to make to this either. Her only contribution, a few seconds later, was, ‘Turn left on road.’
‘Oh, shut up.’
Bright headlights loomed ahead, momentarily dazzling her.
‘Turn off your full beam, you idiot.’ Sophie snapped her own lights on and off as a hint. ‘Good grief, you’re blinding me.’
Suddenly a large shape appeared in the road, picked out clearly in the lights. An animal, standing frozen in the path of her car, staring back at her. Proud antlers, strong back and legs, familiar red and white markings …
‘What the hell … ?’
The oncoming headlights continued to dazzle her.
Her foot hit the brake.
There must have been an icy patch on the road. Black ice, invisible and deadly. As soon as the car began to brake, the wheel was wrenched away from her control and she slid sideways into the path of the other car, which also skidded,
turning across her, trying to avoid a collision. Lights flashed wildly in her eyes, trees rose up in front of her at terrible speed, and there was a violent jolting BANG …
Sophie opened her eyes to somebody knocking loudly on her window.
‘Are you okay?’
Dazed, she stared up at the most attractive man she had ever seen.
She had an impression of speed and intensity, but all coiled up in a pair of sharp blue eyes, short dark hair, a strong nose, and a mouth that looked somehow annoyed, frustrated and deeply sensual all at the same time. Which was an awful lot of emotion for one mouth to convey without even saying anything, she thought dizzily.
She considered his question.
Am I okay?
She sat up, feeling very shaken, and only then realised she had been lying in the white pool of a deflated airbag.
The man tried the door, but at first it would not budge.
‘Open the door,’ he ordered her.
Oh, she did not like his tone. ‘My head hurts.’
He did not look very sympathetic. ‘You need to get out of the vehicle. Try it from your side while I pull.’
Wearily she did as he asked. He tugged, one foot on the back door panel. The door gave suddenly, and creaked open like the lid of a coffin in an old vampire film.
‘You have reached your destination.’
She glared at the Sat Nav.
Where on earth had the car ended up? She gazed out of the door at dead leaves and soil lit up by the beam of his torch. The car had tipped forward at an alarming angle. It was in a ditch, she realised in horror.
Visions of long waits by an icy roadside for a tow-truck flashed through her mind. How the hell was she going to reach the conference in time now?
‘Are you able to get out?’ he asked, staring at her. ‘What’s wrong? Have you been hurt?’
She checked out her arms and legs, her torso, her forehead. Apart from a throbbing pain in her temples, she seemed to have been unharmed by this sudden and unwelcome acquaintance with a ditch.
