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“Why don’t we do it together after you close up tomorrow?” Dylan suggested. “I can do all the hard work, and you can boss me around. You’ll enjoy that.”

Lucy threw him a glare but didn’t disagree. He was right. She did need to get the shop decorated; all the other businesses on the high street looked lovely and Christmassy — her sweet little coffee shop looked like the odd one out.

* * *

“I’ve just got a couple of things I need to finish up here, but I’ll get the boxes as soon as I’m done,” Dylan said, looking up from his laptop, as Lucy said goodbye to the last customer the following day.

“Sure,” said Lucy.

“Promise me you won’t try to get them down yourself.”

“There’s only a couple of them and they’re really light. I can easily get them out, ready for you to do the high up stuff in a bit.”

“Promise me,” said Dylan.

“Fine,” said Lucy, “but I’ll get the stepladder out of the cupboard in my hallway upstairs for you.”

“And then you put your feet up for a bit. I’ll be done with work soon and there’ll be plenty of time for you to boss me around later.”

Lucy headed up to her flat and retrieved the stepladder from where it was ever so slightly buried in the hall cupboard and placed it against the wall ready for Dylan to carry downstairs.

She’d settle down on the sofa for a bit until Dylan came up. She took her shoes off and snuggled into the corner of the sofa, pulling a blanket over her. She hoped the decorating wouldn’t take long . . . how early could she get away with going to bed? She’d just close her eyes for a moment until Dylan needed direction . . .

And, of course, she fell asleep. Next thing Lucy knew, she was opening her eyes again and she smelled cooking. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation. Whatever it was smelled like something she definitely wanted to eat.

Rubbing her eyes, she followed her nose into the kitchen. Dylan was standing in front of her cooker stirring something and humming along to the Red Hot Chilli Peppers, which he had on low from his phone.

“And just what are you up to?”

“I’m cooking you a proper meal. You’ve been asleep for hours.”

“I have?” she asked, peering into the pan where a meat sauce was bubbling.

“Yep, it’s seven thirty.”

“I’m sorry. You shouldn’t have hung around this long.”

“Don’t worry,” he said easily. “You obviously really needed the sleep.”

“And you started cooking?” Lucy asked, in disbelief.

“Well, yeah. I’m starving, and I was hoping I might be able to convince you to eat some of it. Plus, I finished the decorating a while ago.”

Lucy put her hands over her face. “You decorated the coffee shop by yourself while I was passed out on the sofa?”

“It’s no big deal,” Dylan said with a shrug. “I found the decorations, no problem, and it didn’t take long.”

“Can I go and have a look?” asked Lucy, despite the smell from what Dylan was cooking meaning she was reluctant to leave the kitchen.

“Sure. Let me know if there’s anything you want me to change. Dinner’s in five. I’m glad you woke up now, I was gearing myself up to trying to disturb your slumber.”

Lucy gave his arm a playful punch, before heading downstairs. She smiled as she opened the door to the coffee shop and turned on the overhead lights. The tree was looking sweet in the corner, with the baking themed decorations she’d collected over the years hanging perfectly from it. Rows of fairy lights had been strung around the large window looking out over the high street . . . where had they come from? The only strings of lights she had were the ones on the tree. There were a few other things that she didn’t recognise as well, mixed in with everything . . . a sign to the North Pole and a very cheerful Father Christmas that had been placed in the window alongside the polar bears she usually put in there. She went back upstairs, her stomach growling again as she approached the kitchen.

“Perfect timing,” said Dylan, indicating to the places laid at the little table for them both. Apparently, they were eating together. Well, she could hardly decline in the circumstances.

“The shop looks wonderful! You did a fantastic job. I’m so sorry I slept through it.”

“It’s fine. It would have taken twice as long and wouldn’t be nearly as professional-looking if you’d been interfering.”