Page 4 of The Cosy Christmas Chocolate Shop

‘Are you local?’ She hadn’t seen him about before. She’d have remembered him for sure. Those big hazel-green eyes, fixed on her right now, wouldn’t easily be forgotten. He had cropped dark-brown hair and a stubbly beard that kind of suited him. Nice, even, white teeth when he spoke. ‘No, just staying for a few days in a holiday cottage along the road there.’ Nice eyes.

‘Ah, okay.’

‘You?’

‘Me?’

‘Local?’

‘Oh yeah, I live in the village. Been here about six years now.’

‘You’re lucky. It’s a really scenic place. Bit wild here today, mind, but I kind of like that.’

She was trying to place his accent. A hint of the local North Eastern Geordie, but well spoken.

‘Yeah, Winter’s launched itself with a vengeance,’ she replied. ‘But I like that too, when the sea’s all wild, and the clouds are inky-grey and stormy.’

Alfie went off to investigate some clumps of seaweed on the tideline. They were nearly back at the dunes below the village that she usually walked back through. ‘I’m heading this way.’

‘Me too – I’ve got the car parked there,’ he clarified.

They smiled politely at each other, his smile reaching his intense dark eyes. If she wasn’t mistaken there was a slight frisson between them. But she wasn’t quite sure. She hadn’t actually fancied anyone since Luke. Was that what this was? Did she fancy him? Oh, wow.

‘Clearing your head this morning?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, you could say that.’ He looked thoughtful, as if there was more to it than he wanted to divulge.

The spikey marram grass of the dunes began and Emma started to climb the sandy track. She was aware that he was close behind, coming to a level with her as the path widened when they approached the beach car park. She sneaked a sideways look. He was, in fact, rather gorgeous with a tall, athletic frame, as much as she could tell under his Barbour-style jacket and jeans. All too soon they were at the car park in the dunes and he was saying that it had been nice meeting her and that he had to go.

Weirdly, she realised that she didn’t want that, as if there was already some connection between them. He stood and just looked at her for a few significant seconds and she guessed he might be feeling the same way too.

Then he stepped towards her, took her hand in his. His grasp was warm, smooth, gentle.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I think you’ve helped me make my decision.’

And then he moved closer again, looked right at her with those deep, dark green eyes, and leant in to kiss her delicately on the mouth. He smelt gorgeous, all cool-citrus aftershave, his body next to hers, warm and strong and real. She hadn’t been this near to a man in a long, long while. It was a surprise, yet it felt so very natural. The kiss became passionate, his arms around her now. One of her hands reaching up to his neck, stroking his hairline, as she pressed her lips firmly against his, finding his open mouth, his tongue. Oh boy.

Then he stopped, stepped back, with a surprised smile, ‘I’m sorry, I hope …’

‘It’s fine. It was nice.’ She suddenly felt shy.

‘Look, sorry, but I really do have to go. ’ He started to move towards his vehicle, a jeep type, pausing as he got there. ‘How can I find you?’

‘The chocolate shop in the village. You’ll find me there.’

‘Okay. Right.’ He processed the information, smiled at her, then ducked into the driver’s seat.

‘Your name … I don’t even know your name,’ Emma called. But the words were lost on the wind as he closed the vehicle’s door.

She watched, stunned, as he waved from behind the windscreen, and then drove off.

3

So, what do you do after a rather handsome man has kissed you quite out-of-the-blue in a car park in the dunes? Well, you walk back, in a bit of a daze admittedly, wondering a) if that really did just happen and b) is he a nutter, possibly high on drugs, or a bit of a madman with an axe in his car boot? And then you head back home and go and make some chocolate bars.

Well, that’s what you do if you run a chocolate shop. Emma wandered back along The Wynding, a narrow lane that led from the beach, past the small harbour, where the coble fishing boats were moored, along to the stone cottages of the main street and The Chocolate Shop by the Sea.

She passed the first window which had the Christmas display she had so carefully set out several weeks before. There was a small, real pine Christmas tree with red and gold baubles and matching coloured tinsel, with little sparkly white lights. A wicker basket of her best chocolate gifts took pride of place, filled with chocolate snowmen and Santas, all handcrafted, alcohol-infused truffles, candied orange slices dipped in dark chocolate, and more. She’d soon have to empty it and come up with a fresh idea for January, she realised. Why did that make her feel rather glum?