Probably the Best Kiss in the World. Pernille Hughes

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СКАЧАТЬ was used to with Robert. He was definitely making a particular effort this evening, only at what she wasn’t quite sure.

      “Take a seat,” he said and laughed at his joke, then popped the cork on the bottle. The cork ricocheted off the peak of the roof to clock Jen on the head. Unaware, he reached for the flutes and poured them each a glass. There followed a moment of awkwardness as he attempted to fold himself down onto the deck without use of his hands, in spite of Jen reaching up to help. “To us,” he said in toast, brushing the worst of the spillage from his striped shirt.

      “To us,” she agreed, discretely giving her head a soothing rub, and taking a sip. The champagne was delicious. She couldn’t see the label, but he wouldn’t have skimped. Robert took a week off every year for wine tasting in France, so he had his standards. As he delved about in the basket, laying out a fine spread for them, Jen looked about her. The sun was low but it was still comfortably warm and there were plenty of people about on the shingle. The air was rich with scents: the salt of the sea, the smoke aroma from a distant barbecue and the fragrant notes from the champagne. Her thoughts started to meander as to how she could emulate it all in a beer. It was all rather lovely and dare she say it, romantic. Overt romance wasn’t normally their thing. They were both far too practical and realistic for that – another of the things that had them well suited by Jen’s estimation – but for all of that, he’d put together a sweet little scene for them. She was glad she’d worn a dress now.

      She asked him about his golf and he talked her through the first eighteen holes while she ate her Quiche Lorraine, Scotch egg and numerous other picnic standards. The napkins told her the local deli had catered, which was fine by her as Robert wasn’t known for his cooking. In fact, both Ava and Zara teased their brother mercilessly on his ineptness in the kitchen. Jen pushed the thought of Ava and Zara aside. It was still the weekend, and for now she would concentrate on Robert and staunchly overlook the fact she dated her bosses’ brother. There were days when she wished he’d never pushed her CV their way, but then she’d been desperate for a job and Westhampton was hardly the marketing capital of the world.

      “What did you get up to then?” he asked, brushing a crumb off her chin and sliding his hand into hers. They’d both relaxed back against the wall of the beach hut. Having known each other for many years, sitting together peacefully was something they did quite well.

      “Tapping. And labelling. The boxes are ready for the County Show. And I brewed two new beers, which are now safely in the tanks.”

      “Right oh,” he murmured, pulling the picnic basket towards him with his spare hand and perusing the contents, “Lydia help you out?”

      “No, she was gone most of the weekend. Not sure where, just said she was popping out with mates. She offered though.” She didn’t mean it as a hint, but he didn’t take it as one either, as he was busy setting up the desserts.

      Two ramekins of something with a brown sugar topping sat on the blanket and he fished out a small kitchen blowtorch. He looked quite excited to be holding it. “I saw them do this on Saturday Breakfast.” He must have seen Jen’s look of concern as he released her hand and stroked her cheek. “Don’t worry, Jen. Fire-handling comes with the Y chromosome.”

      Minutes later, the flames were quickly doused with a bottle of Evian, but the blanket was a goner.

      “Never mind,” he insisted, unfazed and more intent on pressing the alleged Crème Brȗlée into her hands, “Mumsie will be pleased with the shopping excuse.”

      Jen looked at her dessert. It wasn’t fully burnt, there was still a small patch she could breach to access the custard. The intense way that he was nodding her on, eager for her to tuck in, suggested perhaps he’d made this part himself. She swallowed her gulp quite admirably.

      Credit where credit was due, the patch she stabbed made exactly the right cracking sound, much to his delight. Robert didn’t seem overly concerned with trying his own dessert though, which was worrying, but he’d made such an effort and appeared so keen, that she couldn’t do anything else but delve out a substantial spoonful and put it in her mouth.

      She knew instantly she’d made a mistake. There was something big and hard in there, definitely not smooth and creamy. She looked about, not sure what to do; spitting was not a seemly option. Finally, she looked at him distressed and what was that in his eyes? Mischief? It certainly looked like it. Slowly, carefully, trying to appear as ladylike as possible while desperate to gob it out, she extracted the object from her mouth.

      In her hand lay a ring.

      Even without the half-saliva half-custard coating it was easily the ugliest ring she’d ever laid eyes on. Large and bulky, the square cut stone was held in an oblong setting. Beyond the murky gem, the filigree ivy detailing was the only thing to set the ring apart from a knuckle-duster. Staring at it, it took Jen a moment to realise Robert was on one knee in front of her, grinning proudly at his dessert wheeze.

      “Jennifer Attison, will you be my wife?” His eyes and smile widened even further at her shock. “Surprised?”

      “Well, yes,” she stammered. It was a surprise. A great big astounding surprise given they’d never talked about the future and in Jen’s head their two dates a week routine had worked perfectly for the last six years, so why would he be looking to change it?

      Jen’s brain couldn’t keep up, as his expression now changed from amused to ecstatic. He jumped to his feet, raised his hands in the air and channelling Tom Cruise on Oprah’s sofa, shouted to everyone on the beach “She said Yes!!”

      Wait, what? Jen looked around, panicked. That wasn’t what she’d meant. He grabbed her hands and dragged her to her feet, before clamping his hands to her face and kissing her. She could hear onlookers clapping, and the noise made a disturbing duet with the alarm bells in her head.

      “This ring was my great-grandmother’s, on Mumsie’s side,” he explained, plucking it off her palm as she stared shell-shocked at him, “apparently, it hasn’t seen daylight since the undertakers took it off her finger and handed it to my granny.” Jen fought the urge to paw her tongue clean, as he slipped it easily onto her ring finger. Very easily. “Oh. It’s too big.”

      Great-granny must have had salamis for fingers, the ring would have fallen freely off Jen’s thumb.

      “Oh dear,” she said, the relief nearly felling her, “what a shame.”

      “Don’t be upset, Jen, I’ll have it resized.”

      Jen’s feigned joy was Oscar-worthy.

      “I’m glad you love it though. Mumsie will be too.”

      “It … It’s remarkable.”

      “Certainly is,” he said wistfully gazing at it. “I’m the first boy in the family for generations, hence it’s mine to give.”

      He kissed her again and Jen began to realise how happy this was making him, how overjoyed he was she’d accepted his proposal. She couldn’t help but be deeply flattered. Robert was a catch by anyone’s standards; sensible, solvent and career savvy. His height and broad golf-toned shoulders gave him gravitas in a room; other women looked his way when they were out together. And he had a kind face. She’d always thought that.

      They’d first met when she was thirteen and her mother had dragged her along to a dress fitting for Robert’s mother. Marooned in the hallway, listening to Mrs Thwaites’ loud voice through the walls, Jen had at first СКАЧАТЬ