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‘Where? Where are you volunteering?’
‘At a bakery. Somewhere down there, near the beach, I think.’ She nodded towards the bottom of the hill and the ocean beyond.
‘In that case, I’ll walk you there.’ Stepping forward, he took her rucksack from her, throwing it easily over his shoulder where it nestled against his holdall.
‘No, I’m fine.’ She held out her hand for her rucksack. She didn’t need babysitting.
Choosing not to acknowledge her request for her rucksack, he began walking down the hill.
Shaking her head, she watched him as he strode down the path before she ran to catch him up. ‘What did you want, then?’
Pausing, he glanced at her, confusion etched across his face. ‘Nothing. Carrying your bag is the least I can do in the circumstances.’
‘Huh, not scaring me half to death and making me land in a puddle would have been better.’ She folded her arms as they continued to walk.
‘I thought you said I didn’t scare you.’ His lips twitched again.
‘No, you didn’t. That was the wrong word.’ She huffed.
‘Besides, you looked soaked before you fell in the puddle.’ He pointed to her coat. ‘Did you think the sunny postcards from Cornwall were a true representation of the weather down here all year?’
Layla opened and closed her mouth. Was he teasing her or was he seriously just truly that condescending? ‘I...’
He chuckled. ‘Your face! You thought I was being serious.’
Narrowing her eyes at him, she fixed her gaze on her rucksack. Now if she could just get that back from him, she could leave him out here in the street and never have to lay eyes on him again.
‘Too soon after the puddle incident?’ He grinned, his dark eyes shining.
Staring right at him, she lowered her voice, trying to control the anger she could feel bubbling up inside her. ‘I was asking why you shouted at me in the first place?’
‘Ah, of course. Now that’s a fair question.’
‘Well?’ If it was a fair question, then why wasn’t he answering?
‘I was going to ask you for directions, actually.’
‘And what? You suddenly don’t need them anymore? You think this...’ She indicated her rucksack. ‘...is more important? You’re telling yourself that saving a damsel in distress takes precedence over wherever you’re going? Well, I hate to disappoint you, but I’m not a damsel and I’m not in distress.’
‘No, I...’
‘Don’t bother.’ Grabbing her bag, she picked up the pace and turned down the cobbled street at the bottom of the hill. With the ocean on her left, she knew she must be nearing the bakery, and sure enough, she could see a small row of shops along the promenade. And, yep, The Cornish Bay Bakery. She’d found it, no thanks to the bloke she’d left standing in the rain.
Layla hurried across the cobbles towards the bakery and pushed open the door before stepping into the inviting warmth of the bakery. She paused and looked around. It looked as though a number of the local residents had taken shelter from the rain inside; the queue for the bakery counter almost reached the door and by the looks of it only one person was serving. No wonder Elsie had opened her doors to volunteers. Apart from the bakery counter, tables and chairs stretched out across the middle of the shop floor, each of them occupied by people hunched over coffee mugs or enjoying thick slices of generously iced cakes, and to her right another counter filled the space along the wall, although this one was empty – no customers and no one serving.
Just as she was about to join the queue of customers, Layla spotted a door along the back wall of the bakery, next to a small counter serving drinks and cakes. Would that be the kitchen? If so, maybe there was someone inside whom she could introduce herself to rather than interrupting the woman serving behind the bakery counter or the one clearing tables before hurrying back to serve drinks?
She shrugged. It was worth a go. The sooner she could introduce herself, hopefully, the quicker she could freshen up and change out of these wet clothes. Without giving herself the chance to back out of her decision, she knocked sharply on the door and stepped back as a woman with wispy white hair and eyes the colour of the ocean pulled open the door.
‘Hello, can I help you, love?’
‘Hi, this is The Cornish Bay Bakery, isn’t it?’ Layla lowered her rucksack to the floor. It suddenly felt very heavy.
‘It sure is. How can I help you?’ The woman looked down at her rucksack and frowned.
‘I’ve come to volunteer.’
‘Oh, you must be Layla! I’m Elsie. It’s so lovely to meet you.’ Elsie drew Layla in for a hug around the shoulders before stepping back and ushering her inside. ‘Come inside and meet some of the bakery family.’
