Page 49 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

She felt a bit sick.

‘Em? Are you still there?’ His tone was gentle.

‘Yes … Sorry, just thinking.’

‘Dangerous pastime, that.’

‘Don’t I know it.’ She had to laugh.

Oh bugger, he sounded so bloody nice and he’d just made her giggle.

It’s only a date, a little voice egged her on. Find out a bit more about him, and if you don’t like him after that, or still have concerns, then that it’ll be it: hasta la vista, baby.

‘O-kay.’

‘Don’t sound so thrilled.’

She could hear the amusement in his tone.

‘Sorry. Yes, that would be lovely.’ She made herself sound upbeat. The poor chap. Boy, he didn’t realise what a heap of troubles he might be taking on here! If he ever found out how much baggage she came with, he’d probably be putting the phone down right away.

‘Great. I could come back up this weekend, if that’s okay – unless you’re busy?’

‘Only busy with chocolate. I think I can spare some time.’ She sounded way too cool, she knew. Oh yes, she could maybe fit Mr Rather-Gorgeous Hunk into her spare hour on the weekend. ‘Yes, I’d like that,’ she corrected herself.

‘Well, I’ve got to check a building job on Saturday morning, but then I could come on up. Maybe stay over Saturday night?’

Her heart did a somersault flip and double forward roll. It might even win the Olympics at this rate. ‘Sorry?’ Had she heard right? That was extremely presumptuous of him, though her mind was rather warming to the thought, and doing all sorts of naughty things with pictures appearing of his imagined bare torso, which were not off-putting in the least. But blimey! He was a bit full-on; maybe she was right to be cautious.

‘Hah, I meant in a B&B, or maybe book a room in that pub we had a drink in.’

‘Oh right, yes, yes, of course.’ She felt flustered. Now, what would he think of her, jumping to conclusions like that?

‘Of course, now you’re offering …’ He let the words dangle, as Emma stood, silently stumped, until he burst out laughing, and the tension between them popped like a bubble.

‘Yes, a B&B,’ she confirmed hastily. To make things quite clear from the start. She was just not that kind of a girl.

They chatted a little more about work and their past couple of days. He said he’d been extremely snowed under which was why he hadn’t rung sooner. He then asked after Alfie, who she remembered would actually need his post-supper walk very soon. And then Max drew the conversation to a close. ‘So, I’ll be up Saturday afternoon, then.’

‘Yes, great. I’ll have to work until five when the shop closes, though.’ She couldn’t afford to lose business. ‘But I do get Sunday morning off.’ She usually used the time to make more chocolates, but she could easily reorganise her weekend, and work later on Friday night.

‘Great,’ he echoed. ‘Maybe we could go for a walk, take Alfie out Sunday morning.’

‘Yes, I’d like that.’

‘And Saturday evening, have a think on a nice place to go for supper.’

‘Okay, will do.’

This was sounding like a proper date. And no Malteser-Man thigh-rubbing date at that. Actually, if it had been Max trying to tease his way in to her Maltesers pack via her inner thigh, from the way she was feeling right now, she might well have let him!

24

She really wasn’t sure what to wear on this date – and yes, this really was a proper date, which made it feel far more pressured.

Max had texted several times since he’d contacted her. After having a chat and a bit of a heart-to-heart with Bev, Emma had sent him over a couple of suggestions for suitable supper venues – away from the prying eyes of the village this time – and he’d booked a table at Henry’s, one of Bev’s recommendations, a bistro in the pretty coastal town of Alnmouth just down the coast. Emma hadn’t been sure herself where to suggest as it had been such a long time since she had eaten out, other than a quick snack in The Fisherman's Arms or at Bev’s house. Finances hadn’t stretched to a slap-up meal-for-one for many years.

So, back to the outfit. She’d already rejected jeans – too casual; the black trousers – too work, and a low-cut top – too obvious. Back to the wardrobe. Dresses: there weren’t a huge selection of those, but she gave them a frisk over. Her Little Black Dress? Oh, she’d worn that at a Christmas Ball many years ago with Luke in Durham; they’d gone along with a group of teachers and had had such a lovely night. She sat down on the bed for a few moments, crushing the velvet to her; disappointingly, it only smelt of her, not him.