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Alec saw herfrom the outside—the blonde ponytail, the wisps of hair framing her face—and entered the café. Cara was sitting at a table near the window, but her expression was tense, her jaw tight as she glanced once, twice, at a couple at the counter ordering. Suddenly, she gathered her things and, after placing a coin on the table she rushed out, practically running him down in the doorway. He followed her out, closing the café door behind them.
“Everything okay, Miss Roberts?” he asked, reaching out to clasp her elbow as she swayed.
Her gaze lifted, met his. “Yes.” But she looked pale, as if she’d just had a shock. She glanced into the window of the café and frowned. “No. Could we walk somewhere? I don’t want to be here.”
Alec steered her away from the bakery and around the corner. “Were you able to enjoy your tea before you bolted?”
“No.” She smiled a lopsided smile. “I did bolt, didn’t I? Silly of me. I’m afraid I panicked.”
“Who were they?”
“I’ve never met her, but he was my fiancé.”
“Recently?” Alec asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Not that recently. It ended late August, and I’d heard he’d married recently. December seventeenth, to be exact. They must be on their honeymoon.” Cara shook her head in disbelief. “But Bakewell? What are the odds?”
“An uncomfortable shock,” he agreed. “Let’s find a place you can have breakfast undisturbed.” He kept his hand at her elbow, and half-led, half-steered her down the narrow street lined with old stone buildings to his favorite café. “They have great coffeeand tea, and you can’t go wrong with anything on the menu, especially if you’re hungry.”
“I am hungry.”
“You could have eaten at my house,” he answered mildly, stopping in front of the Bean & Bag and opening the glossy black door for her. “There was plenty of food.”
“The company was questionable,” she answered, entering the cozy café, but then she smiled at him, taking the sting away.
“Alec Sherbourne can be an ass,” he agreed, leading the way to the counter.
She darted him an amused glance. “Will he also apologize in the third person?”
Alec removed his heavy coat and hung it on the coatrack near the door. “That would be awfully rude of him, wouldn’t it?”
Cara studied the big blackboard at the front with the menu offerings. “Why are you here?”
“To apologize.”
She looked at him now, squarely, her gaze meeting his, but said nothing.
He felt a pang of regret, and something else, something he couldn’t make sense of in that moment. “I’m sorry for starting your day so poorly. I was rude and inhospitable, and you didn’t deserve that—”
“No one deserves it,” she interrupted crisply, but there was a hint of a smile in her eyes and at her lips.
“You are correct again.” He dipped his head, his attention on her mouth and her smile. She was quite pretty, and even displeased with him, she wasn’t a shrew, always a plus when one was in the wrong. “Can we start over?”
“Of course.” She extended a hand. “Friends?”
She was very much an American, but a charming one. He took her hand, his fingers enclosing hers, and gave it a brief, firm shake. “Friends,” he said solemnly.
Cara ordered her second breakfast of eggs and toast, along with coffee, while he ordered an espresso. Alec insisted on paying for the lot. While he paid, she found a table in the corner, and Cara sat with her back to the window, and he took the seat that allowed him to sit with his back to the wall, so he could see the door.
After getting comfortable, he focused on Cara. Color had returned to her cheeks and she was gazing around the little café with interest.
“It’s very cozy,” she said approvingly. “The building is old, isn’t it?”
“It’s an established market town,” he answered, studying her, wondering for the first time what a young woman was doing here, alone, for Christmas. “Also famous for its pudding.”
“Pudding?”
“Dessert,” he said, putting on an American accent for her.
