The Chocolate Shop was in full swing right up to the close of business – an hour later than normal at six o’clock. Emma saw the last gentleman out with his huge fancy marbled milk-and-white egg filled with truffles, checked the street for any last-minute stragglers and seeing there were just a couple of tourists heading down the hill towards the harbour, she shut the door, turning the painted wooden sign to Closed. Wow! That was some day – feet throbbing, hands sore from all the wrapping and tying of bows, and a till hopefully laden with cash ready to pay next month’s rent.
‘Thanks for all your hard work, ladies.’ Emma turned to Bev and Holly.
‘You’re welcome,’ Bev replied.
‘No worries.’ Holly smiled at her boss. ‘I’m going home to get ready to go out with Adam. I think he’s taking me for a meal.’
‘Ooh, lovely. And, hang on, I have a gift for you both. You can’t be working in a chocolate shop and not be getting any perks.’ Em trotted off to the back kitchen to fetch the two chocolate eggs she had hand-crafted especially for her staff. Both had their names carefully written in white chocolate across them. Holly’s was milk with white chocolate spots all over it and Bev’s was dark with hand-crafted flowers in white and dark chocolate, both filled with their favourites: Eton Mess truffles with meringue and strawberry pieces for Bev, and Baileys truffles plus some salted caramels for Holly.
‘Oh my, that is amaze-balls.’ Holly beamed. ‘It’s almost too good to eat.’
‘That is so pretty,’ Bev added. ‘Mind you, I’ll have no trouble tucking into mine. It looks divine. Thanks so much.’ She gave Em a hug.
‘You only love me for my chocolate,’ Emma jested as they pulled away.
‘Absolutely.’ Bev grinned.
‘Right, well, time to get yourselves home then. We’ve already run well over time, so thank you. I’ll do the last bit of tidying here.’
‘You sure?’ Holly checked; she’d quite gladly help for a while longer.
‘I’m fine, honest. Go get your glad rags on, young lady, and enjoy your evening. Tomorrow’s a day off for me too. Yee-es.’ Em was more than ready for it, the run-up to Easter being particularly hectic. It was one of the few Sundays of the year when she closed.
The perfect antidote to a hectic day in the shop was a walk along the beach. After her staff had gone home, Emma nipped upstairs, took off her work apron, and found the lead for Alfie, her much-loved springer spaniel. He leapt out of his bed in her upstairs kitchen and was soon bouncing around her ankles.
‘Come on then, boy. Time for the beach.’
He knew the routine off by heart and didn’t need asking twice; he bounded off down the stairs then sat waiting, tail wagging eagerly, by the back door. They left by the courtyard, a lovely stone-flagged area to the rear of the shop, turned out through the side alley to join the main village street of quaint stone cottages, and headed down the hill to the harbour, past the grocer’s store and the new arts-and-crafts shop. It was breezy but mild, and a few fishing boats bobbed alongside the harbour wall; two of the traditional cobles had been brought up to the shoreline and rested amongst lobster pots, colourful buoys and thick-corded ropes. Emma said ‘hello’ to a group of tourists she passed, and gave a wave to Danny, her friend from the pub. The Fisherman’s Arms was set on top of the slope that rose gently to the right of the harbour and Danny happened to be out in the front car park, chatting to some guests.
Within five minutes she and Alfie were walking along the sandy track through the dunes, coming out upon a golden sweep of crescent-curved beach. Emma let Alfie off the lead and he ran joyfully down to the water’s edge, where rolling waves foamed in from the pewter-grey North Sea. It was beautiful there and strolling along the soft sands calmed her instantly. The hush of the waves, the breeze on her face, Alfie in his element – Warkton-by-the-Sea, with its beach, harbour, village of stone cottages and warm local hearts – this was home. This was her happy place – at last.
She walked the length of the bay to where the rock pools gathered before the low cliffs. The evening was beginning to creep in, the sky gently fading to a peachy-grey before night came. She’d get back; she needed to get ready to see Max anyhow. It wasn’t only Holly who had a date night to look forward to. Emma’s boyfriend would be with her in an hour or so. Wow, she could still hardly believe all that had happened in the past year. She never imagined she could fall in love again – after the pains of the past she could hardly bear to think about – yet here she was – they were – still in the early, tentative, but oh-so-sweet-and-sexy days of their relationship. Another love.
Emma woke the next morning to find Max asleep beside her. It was rather wonderful, but it still took a little getting used to. He’d arrived a little later than expected last night, so they had had a chilled-out evening in the flat above the shop, catching up on their week apart over a supper of chicken and salad.
The morning light glowed on his face, which was framed by short, mid-brown hair. She studied the dark lashes on his closed lids, the shallow lines on his forehead, deeper laughter lines around his eyes that she knew were hazel-green, the sensual curve of his lip, the cropped beard. It was a handsome face, a little lived-in and rather gorgeous. Watching him made her melt and then spin inside. It was hard to pin down these new emotions. She had been self-contained for so many years; a case of necessity. And day by day she felt her heart unravelling just a little more. It felt beautiful … and somewhat scary.
She reached to gently touch his shoulder which was bare above the covers. He was well-built, the muscles defined. There was the small scar where he had injured it just before Christmas. He still had to be careful, the dislocation to his shoulder making it likely that it might happen again. She loved him for his scars, his hurts, as well as his bloody sexy body. And hey, there were worse things to get used to than waking up to a strong, caring guy who looked a bit like Gerard Butler.
His eyes blinked open. ‘Morning, beautiful.’ His just-awake smile was warm in his voice.
‘Hello, gorgeous.’ Their morning greeting had become their ‘thing’ as they welcomed another day. It started off as a cheesy joke but had stuck and it never failed to make her smile. ‘Oh, hang on,’ she added, ‘Happy Easter.’
‘Happy Easter, Em. Now then, I haven’t got you a chocolate egg – thought you might be all chocolated-out by now. But I did get you this …’ He got out of bed, totally starkers, and wandered across to the chair where he had placed his clothes and overnight bag. She loved that he was happy in his own skin, uninhibited. He lifted out a small gift from his luggage. ‘For you.’
He climbed back into bed, as she opened the gift bag to reveal a very cute soft toy rabbit.
‘Well, you seem to be the one doing all the Easter-egg making and delivering around here, so I thought your very own Easter Bunny might be quite fitting.’
‘Aw, how sweet. He’s really lovely.’ СКАЧАТЬ