Page 89 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

Felix bleated.

‘Have you been enjoying everyone coming to find the hare?’ She supposed if he could get out whenever he wanted, he was probably making a nuisance of himself with the visitors, being extra cute and baaahing plaintively for treats. Felix nudged her side, walking into her as she aimed for the fence, so that she almost fell over.

‘What is this? You can’t come with me.’ He nibbled her scarf. ‘Not this time. But I’ll bring you something nice from the village.’

As she said it, she had no idea what. She didn’t think Harry would appreciate her bringing his goat a cheese pastry, but maybe she could find something more suitable.

She opened the gate in the fence and walked through, and this time Felix stopped, watching instead of following her. She thought that he probably knew the entertainment would come to him today, and that he didn’t need to risk being captured by Harry if half the village were going to traipse across his domain with their treasure hunt maps.

The sea was silver-grey, and the light breeze made gentle ripples instead of white-topped waves. It smelt of salt and seaweed, and Daisy couldn’t get enough of it. She wondered how she’d survived without it, with London traffic fumes and kitchen smells and curated bouquets of flowers, instead of the earthy, salty, fresh fragrance of the Norfolk coast. How had she got by without this view?

By the time she had reached the bottom of Perpendicular Street and walked past Avery’s reindeer, her eyes were watering from the cold, from something, and all she wanted to do was find him: the man who had enticed her with Jimmy Nail, then kept her interested with his kindness and his humour and his warm arms and devastating kisses. She needed to ask him about the treasure hunt.

She strode past the arcade with its jangling lights and Christmas music; past the queue outside Two Scoops – snaking around the penguin – because Jason was serving hot chocolate as well as ice cream; past Fiona’s shop and Avery’s elegant partridge sculpture, its feathers picked out in the subtle paint that she now knew glowed at night.

She reached the green and was about to skirt around it, avoiding the squirrel and the robin and the villagers investigating them, when her heart missed a beat and she came to an ungainly halt. There was a tall man standing on the grass; a tall man with dark, glossy hair and an expensive woollen overcoat that looked out of place amongst all the parkas and walking boots.

‘Lars,’ Daisy said to nobody, and picked up her pace.

She had her Zoom with him and the carpenter tomorrow, then he was off to Spain to stay with friends for Christmas, so what the fuck was he—? She stopped again, a whimper escaping, because he had moved slightly so that Daisy could see who he was talking to.

Avery was wearing a navy hoody and jeans, and the two men were both tall, Lars with a couple of inches on Avery, probably, but Avery’s shoulders were wider, and she knew what he felt like in her arms, what his lips tasted like, and … She had to stop comparing them, but why were they—?

‘Daisy.’ Avery had spotted her, so she walked across the grass towards them.

Lars turned, his smile smooth and sinful, and Daisy’s heart was an erratic bird, desperate to flee its cage. ‘Daisy Anderly.’

‘What are you doing here?’ She hated how breathless she sounded.

‘What a warm greeting,’ he said with a laugh.

‘Sorry, I …’ She reached her hand out automatically, and Avery took it, pulling her close and kissing her cheek in a way that was just the right side of possessive. ‘Hey,’ she murmured.

‘Hi.’ He caught her eye, communicating something she couldn’t interpret before they broke apart.

‘Sorry Lars,’ she said again, trying to regain her composure. ‘It’s a surprise, that’s all. I thought you were in Norwich, then heading to Spain for a few days?’

‘I wanted to see the place where little Daisy grew up,’ he said. ‘And it’s beautiful, adorable, just as you said. I asked about the sculptures, and this man, Avery, told me he made them. I’m wondering if we’ve hired the wrong carpenter for City Drift.’

‘I don’t think—’

‘But maybe if I expand, if I open Sea Drift somewhere near here, we could hire you.’

‘Sea Drift?’ Avery folded his arms. He was still smiling, but his grey eyes had turned flinty.

‘We’ve been discussing what comes next after my café in Norwich,’ Lars told him. ‘Talking about how I can grow my empire once it’s up and running.’

‘I said we should focus on City Drift,’ Daisy said. ‘Make sure it’s operating how you want before you look elsewhere.’

‘But you know how it is.’ Lars’s smile was bright. ‘You visit somewhere, and you instinctively know how you could improve it, the effect a new perspective can have on a place.’

Sweat broke out on Daisy’s palms. ‘I don’t think …’

‘Mistingham could use some gentrification, don’t you think?’ Lars gestured around him, at the happy families and groups of friends, the oak tree that was slumped but still standing, the weatherworn village hall. ‘Like you said at dinner, you have too much talent to stay here. It’s not enough for someone ambitious like you.’

Daisy stared at him. She hadn’t said that: he had. ‘I didn’t—’

‘You have too much talent for Mistingham?’ Avery said. ‘Really?’ He sounded surprised rather than angry, so Daisy hoped she could rescue this.