Cupcakes and Christmas: The Carrington’s Collection: Cupcakes at Carrington’s, Me and Mr. Carrington, Christmas at Carrington’s. Alexandra Brown

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СКАЧАТЬ her body, from my mind.

      ‘Are you still there?’ I say, having heard about ‘the one’ a zillion times before.

      ‘Yes. Err sorry,’ she sighs, no doubt having lost herself in some fantasy moment. ‘What did you want?’ she says, dreamily, followed by, ‘Oh my God, sorry that sounded so rude.’

      ‘Charming,’ I say, feigning mock hurt. ‘Just wondered if you’re free later for a gossip and to ask if you can keep one of those delicious red velvet cupcakes for me please?’

      ‘Oh sorry hun, none left.’

      ‘Whaat? But you must have. It’s not even tea break time yet.’ I can’t believe it.

      ‘A guy came and bought the whole batch for his office Christmas party.’

      ‘But it’s January! That’s outrageous, why couldn’t he have his party at the actual proper time in December, like everyone else?’ I say, fighting a sudden urge to hunt the guy down and beg for a cake – they’re that good.

      ‘Ciaran served him. You know I’d have kept one back otherwise … Talking of Ciaran, have you seen him recently?’

      ‘Yes, he was down here earlier, why?’

      ‘Did he seem different to you?’ she says, lowering her voice.

      ‘Not really, why?’

      ‘He’s up to something, I’m sure of it. I reckon he’s got his eye on someone.’

      ‘Don’t be daft. He’s with Tina.’

      ‘Even more reason to look elsewhere,’ she snorts. ‘Why else does he keep disappearing then? And it’s not to see Tina, because she’s in here demanding to know where he is all the time.’

      ‘I’ve no idea.’

      ‘Never mind, maybe it’s my imagination. Anyway, what delicious delight can I tempt you with instead?’

      ‘I’ll have one of those vanilla slices.’

      ‘A millefeuille, do you mean?’

      ‘Think so, the one with layers of puff pastry and loads of deliciously thick custardy cream-type stuff inside, topped with combed fondant icing an—’

      ‘Sorry, can you hang on a sec?’ I hear the whoosh of the steam from the coffee machine as I lick my lips, willing her to have one left. I’m practically salivating at the mere thought. ‘Right, that’s all done. I’ve popped one in a box inside the fridge, what time will you be up?’

      ‘Lunchtime?’ I want to use my tea break to organise the Valentine’s raffle. With the dwindling sales recently, every bit helps.

      ‘Oooh, can you make it later? I’ve got to pop out to the cash and carry. How about fiveish?’ It’s early as we don’t close until six today, but I can always ask Annie to cover the last hour. I covered three times for her last week.

      ‘Sure, look forward to it.’

      ‘OK hun. Bye for now. Oh, I almost forgot, you don’t mind if “the one” comes along on Saturday, do you? I can always ask him to bring a friend. Just imagine, we could double-date on Valentine’s Day – if you like him, of course.’

      ‘No. Err … yes,’ I say, thinking no more blind dates. I’ve been caught out like this before. Her man of the moment brings along a friend who usually turns out to be the beer-bellied guy with the body odour problem. ‘What’s his name?’

      ‘Nathan. How sexy is that?’ she squeals.

      ‘Mmm. Nice. Well it’s your birthday after all, and if he really is “the one” then you’ll want him there,’ I say, wanting her to be happy. ‘But no blind dates, do you hear me?’

      ‘Pardon?’ Sam giggles, before ending the call. I drop the receiver back on the phone and peer down at my trousers, only to see that I now look as though I’m wearing a pair of fluffy Ugg boots too.

      ‘What’s with the carpet?’ I say to no one in particular. It’s my boss, the floor supervisor, James, who replies.

      ‘Blame upstairs,’ he says, approaching my counter. He’s carrying two crystal weights with lengths of silver ribbon attached to crimson heart-shaped balloons. ‘Here,’ he says, handing them to me. ‘Save you having to go down to the basement to organise them.’ He’s wearing a new slim-fit shirt that nicely accentuates the V of his firm chest. I quickly look away, praying he didn’t spot me checking him out.

      ‘Thanks. And I’m sorry,’ I say, gesturing to the phone. He waves a hand.

      ‘Ahh, no problem. It’s fine if there aren’t any customers around.’ He smiles casually. I take the balloons, reflecting on how thoughtful he is. His hand brushes mine and he immediately apologises, while a little shiver of excitement pulses through me. It’s just such a shame that he’s married, and that he’s my boss, because he’s so hot. I remember when he interviewed me for the job. The sandy-blond hair that kept bobbing into his eyes as he looked down at the questions on the desk in front of him. His emerald-green eyes probing me for the answers every time he looked back up, and the fact that he’s oblivious to it – well, it just makes him so damn sexy. ‘You OK? You look tired.’ He grins, and a warm glow flickers within me. He’s the first guy I’ve felt anything for since the disastrous break-up with Brett. We had been virtually inseparable for three years and his betrayal hit me really hard.

      ‘Thanks a lot. Do I really look that bad?’ I say, instantly hoping he’ll disagree.

      ‘No. No I didn’t mean it like that,’ he replies, momentarily patting my arm by way of apology, and I take a deep breath. After Brett left I swore off men completely – I really wasn’t interested in going through that sort of pain again – but it’s reassuring to know my heart hasn’t been completely shattered, and that maybe I’m ready to start dating again.

      ‘So what’s with this carpet?’ I ask, quickly changing the subject. ‘And have you seen the state of these?’ Feeling flustered, I peer down at my legs.

      ‘Well, I wouldn’t say they were a state exactly. They look fine to me.’ His cheeks flush for a second and he clears his throat. I feel embarrassed. ‘Shame about the fluff though,’ he finishes, with a gentle laugh. ‘Somebody decided to splash out and re-carpet the entire shop. Staff canteen included.’

      ‘What a waste of money. Before you know it we’ll be closing down and switching to “online purchasing only”,’ I snort. The edgy feeling from earlier swirls around inside me again.

      ‘Trust you, always thinking about the bottom line.’ He shakes his head.

      ‘Well, I don’t see you complaining when I shift all of the high-end stock,’ I tease. But the truth of it is that my section of the shop-floor space does make the most money. The others say that it’s because I’m shameless and not averse to using my wily powers of persuasion when boyfriends and husbands rush in to buy a last-minute gift. But it’s not my fault if they opt for the biggest hobo bag after I let slip how the lucky woman will squeal with delight and love them forever on unwrapping such a gift. All the while discreetly nudging the small version to the far end СКАЧАТЬ