Page 35 of The Little Board Game Café

Those twinkly eyes again, she thought.

‘The all-day breakfast. Soup of the day…’

‘And your favourite soup is…?’

‘Home-made chicken and vegetable. A meal in itself.’

Ludek nodded, leaning forwards a little more. ‘Delicious. Go on. Three more dishes.’

‘My mum’s Lancashire hotpot recipe. That’ll be the special sometimes, not a regular thing. And it is really special. A ploughman’s with chunky pieces of Lancashire cheese and thick-sliced honey-roast ham…’

‘I’m sensing a Lancashire theme. Bit brave here in Yorkshire. And your final dish?’

‘Baked potato.’

‘Microwaved?’

‘Of course not. Done in the oven so the skin is crispy.’

‘Phew.’ He mimed his relief, with an exaggerated gesture of running the back of his hand across his forehead.

Emily laughed. He seemed so enthusiastic about her new venture. Was he just being kind? Or was he genuinely interested?

‘You might need to look at the prices too,’ he said. ‘Some seem a bit on the low side.’

‘I know.’

Ludek looked thoughtful. ‘Have you costed out each dish? Checked you’ll make enough margin on everything?’

‘You sound like you know your stuff.’

‘Ramsay’s Kitchen Nightmares. I’m an avid viewer.’

‘Can’t believe you watch that too.’ She laughed again, then coughed, as a crumb of Chorley cake went the wrong way.

‘I’m a sucker for reality TV.’ He shrugged. ‘Well, I have to do something on the long, lonely evenings when there’s no running club or board games group.’

Emily couldn’t quite believe it: a man who shared her love of reality TV. She knew she shouldn’t compare, but it was such a change from Peter and those highfalutin documentaries he liked. Or at least pretended to like.

‘Speaking of the board games group, you never did come along.’

He looked at her, his head cocked slightly to one side, his eyes gazing at hers. Slightly pleading, she thought. Spaniel eyes.

‘Kate’s always busy. And I didn’t want to come on my own.’

‘We’re all very friendly,’ he said. ‘You could come along this week?’

‘If I’m not too tired. I fell asleep on the sofa last night. And now I’ll never find out whether Gordon managed to transform the beachside restaurant in Massachusetts.’

Emily thought he’d laugh, but he stood up to go. ‘No problem.’

‘Maybe another time,’ she said. ‘Next week, perhaps.’

‘Sure.’

‘Anytime you’re passing…’

‘Sure,’ he said again. ‘See ya.’