Page 16

The space smelt divine. Freshly baked cakes, browning bread, and a whole myriad of other aromas flooded her senses as she stepped inside. Sophie had said Kent had levelled up the simple poached eggs to something spectacular, and despite how cynical she had been, Gemma no longer doubted it. She could smell it in the air. It smelt like the Waterfront Café, just a tiny bit better. Not that she would ever say that to Kent. And how the heck had she not noticed how chiselled his jaw and cheekbones were before?

“Is everything okay? I didn’t expect to see you for another half an hour.”

Gemma blinked rapidly as she swallowed a lump that had fixed itself in her throat.

“Yes, yes. Everything’s fine. I just sometimes come in a bit early on a Monday, that’s all.”

“Right.” Kent smirked. “Nothing to do with checking up on me, I suppose?”

Gemma went to roll her eyes, only to change her mind. After all, there seemed little point in denying it.

“Maybe, just a bit.”

With the smirk transforming into something closer to a smile, Kent carried on speaking.

“Well, George told me he does all you girls breakfast. I was just about to do some for myself. I don’t suppose you’d like to sit and join me?”

The knots in Gemma’s stomach reformed tighter than ever.

“Why do I feel like sitting and joining you for food would mean you telling me more things you want to change about my café?” Gemma said.

“It’s not your café, and it’s not mine. It’s Oscar’s,” Kent said pointedly. “But that wasn’t my intention. Still, if you don’t want to join me, I won’t take offence.”

Gemma didn’t want to join him, but she didn’t want to appear rude, either. Thankfully, there was a saving grace in sight.

“Actually, as it’s such a lovely day, I’d quite like to take mine outside, and given that I’m early and everything…”

Kent nodded. “Sure thing, I was going to do sausage sandwiches. That okay for you?”

“Sounds good.”

“Brown sauce, ketchup, or plain?” he asked.

“Brown sauce, it’s breakfast,” Gemma replied.

The tiniest of smiles flickered on the corner of his lips, causing an unnatural fluttering in her stomach. It was just hunger, Gemma told herself as she tried to quash the feelings. All this talk of breakfast and sausage sandwiches would do that. Thankfully, Kent was turning around and walking back into the kitchen, meaning she didn’t have to look at his perfectly symmetrical face any longer.

“Glad to hear it,” he said. “Okay, one sausage sandwich with brown sauce, coming straight up.”

CHAPTER 23

Gemma got to work, sorting out the coffee machines and cutting up the cakes for the day, but she couldn’t help but constantly throw glances towards the kitchen. It always seemed like a veritable hub of life when George was in there, even though he only worked on his own. He would always have the radio on and often sing along or do a little jig as he moved from one station to another. If Kent was listening to music, it was so quiet that Gemma couldn’t hear it, and somehow, she couldn’t imagine him doing a jig of any sort.

It was another twenty minutes before he brought the sausage sandwich out, and even then, Gemma still wasn’t due to start for another ten, which was why she didn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt taking her plate and heading outside to the waterfront.

Eating outside by an estuary was always a dangerous game. Just like at the seaside, seagulls would lurk on walls and posts, ready for the opportunity to jump down and steal something. However, that morning, as Gemma took her seat and bit into the sandwich, the tide was out, revealing the riverbed and the sea birds were notably few. She chewed slowly before swallowing and taking a second bite.

A moment later, she was marching straight back to the café.

“What the hell did you do with the sausage sandwich?” she said.

Kent came out from the kitchen, once again brushing his hands on the seat of his trousers.

“Is everything okay?”

“You changed something, didn’t you? You changed something about the sandwich.”

He tilted his head to the side quizzically.