Название: The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop
Автор: Caroline Roberts
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Контркультура
isbn: 9780008236298
isbn:
Then he stepped towards her, took her hand in his. His grasp was warm, smooth, gentle.
‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve helped me make my decision.’
And then he moved closer again, looked right at her with those deep, dark green eyes, and leant in to kiss her delicately on the mouth. He smelt gorgeous, all cool-citrus aftershave, his body next to hers, warm and strong and real. She hadn’t been this near to a man in a long, long while. It was a surprise, yet it felt so very natural. The kiss became passionate, his arms around her now. One of her hands reaching up to his neck, stroking his hairline, as she pressed her lips firmly against his, finding his open mouth, his tongue. Oh boy.
Then he stopped, stepped back, with a surprised smile, ‘I’m sorry, I hope …’
‘It’s fine. It was nice.’ She suddenly felt shy.
‘Look, sorry, but I really do have to go. ’ He started to move towards his vehicle, a jeep type, pausing as he got there. ‘How can I find you?’
‘The chocolate shop in the village. You’ll find me there.’
‘Okay. Right.’ He processed the information, smiled at her, then ducked into the driver’s seat.
‘Your name … I don’t even know your name,’ Emma called. But the words were lost on the wind as he closed the vehicle’s door.
She watched, stunned, as he waved from behind the windscreen, and then drove off.
So, what do you do after a rather handsome man has kissed you quite out-of-the-blue in a car park in the dunes? Well, you walk back, in a bit of a daze admittedly, wondering a) if that really did just happen and b) is he a nutter, possibly high on drugs, or a bit of a madman with an axe in his car boot? And then you head back home and go and make some chocolate bars.
Well, that’s what you do if you run a chocolate shop. Emma wandered back along The Wynding, a narrow lane that led from the beach, past the small harbour, where the coble fishing boats were moored, along to the stone cottages of the main street and The Chocolate Shop by the Sea.
She passed the first window which had the Christmas display she had so carefully set out several weeks before. There was a small, real pine Christmas tree with red and gold baubles and matching coloured tinsel, with little sparkly white lights. A wicker basket of her best chocolate gifts took pride of place, filled with chocolate snowmen and Santas, all handcrafted, alcohol-infused truffles, candied orange slices dipped in dark chocolate, and more. She’d soon have to empty it and come up with a fresh idea for January, she realised. Why did that make her feel rather glum?
Emma headed past the shop front and in through the adjacent alleyway to the back of the row of cottages, to keep a very sandy, wet Alfie away from the main shop. She unlocked the door, went on in, and headed straight up the stairs, as the downstairs kitchen was for chocolatier use only, and was a pet-free zone for health and hygiene reasons. She gave Alfie a rub-down with his old towel once they reached the top landing and settled him in his dog basket in the tiny kitchen she had in her cottage flat. Then, she carefully washed her hands, popped her hair up in a ponytail, and headed down to the shop’s kitchen to set about making a batch of chilli and lime dark-chocolate bars. She also made a batch of the latest flavour she’d created just before Christmas, ginger and cinnamon; perfect for a cold winter’s day.
Christmas was the busiest time of The Chocolate Shop’s year, and supplies were depleted. Naturally, the New Year period would be quieter. There would, of course, be that couple of weeks’ lull, where chocolate was the enemy and gym memberships were eagerly signed up to. She’d spot more people jogging on the beach for a while – and then they’d realise that what they really wanted to do on a cold, grey January day was to cosy up on the sofa, by the fire, with a chocolate treat and a good book.
She had taken a few days off for Christmas and closed the shop, giving Holly the week off too. The young girl had been chatting about her plans to go socialising with her friends, no doubt sporting her new iPhone she sooo hoped her parents had got her for Christmas, and the new outfits and shoes her Saturday job money was going to buy – a trip with her girlfriends to the Metro Centre and the sales was lined up for today.
The day passed quickly and quietly for Emma, working away, radio on, crafting her chocolates. Her mind drifted to the strange incident on the beach whilst she rolled a truffle centre between her palms. She wondered if that guy might appear at the shop … might he be staying locally? And what decision was it that she’d helped him to make? She kept an ear out for a knock on the door, but no, no sign of him. She decided to put it down to experience and get on with her working day, crafting truffles, boxing others up, making the displays look good, making a list of supplies to order. There was always something to keep her busy, to keep her mind focussed. Her little chocolate shop and Alfie were more than enough in her life.
After all, that guy could be anyone. In fact, who on earth went and kissed a complete stranger in a car park?
New Year’s Eve loomed on the horizon – not Emma’s favourite night. She felt pressured to be out having a ‘great’ time, when all she really wanted to do was to stay at home, treat herself to a shot of Baileys in her hot chocolate, whilst watching a movie in her PJs and slippers, cuddled up with Alfie on the sofa. That way she could have an early night, so she didn’t have to see midnight in and didn’t have to think about facing another year alone.
Instead, she’d had her arm twisted by Bev, her closest friend, and Joanne, both from the village, so here she was in The Fisherman's Arms, having beer slopped down her back, party poppers thrust into her hands and any minute some strange guy’s lips would be thrust on hers in an attempt at wishing her a Happy New Year! Her mind slipped to the man on the beach again – he kept popping up in her thoughts, uninvited. She wondered what he was doing for New Year? She’d rather it was The Kiss, as she’d named him to herself, lined up next to her; that might not be too bad at all, rather than the portly middle-aged fisherman, reeking of a mix of lager and stale kippers, who seemed to be purposely edging into her zone. She downed a big gulp of white wine as Big Ben started to chime on the TV screen they had blaring out, and managed a swift side-cheek manoeuvre as the fisherman moved in for the inevitable kiss.
‘Happy New Year, pet!’ he slurred.
‘Happy New Year,’ she replied with a pasted-on smile.
Then Bev and her hubbie, Pete, found her, congratulating her with hugs and kisses.
‘Have a good one, Em.’ Bev hugged an arm around her.
‘Hope so. You too, my lovely friend.’
Even though Bev was nearly ten years older than Emma, the age gap just didn’t seem apparent. They had first met a few weeks after Emma had come to Warkton at a summer fete down by the harbour. Bev had said hello, then introduced her to several new faces in the village. Later they had chatted away, Bev intrigued by the opening of a chocolate shop in their village. She always joked that it was the talk of chocolate, not Emma herself, that first captured her attention and sealed their friendship.
Joanne СКАЧАТЬ