Page 22 of Fairy Cakes in Winter

“Then it really isn’t a pop-up, is it?”

“Nope. That’s the problem.” I scratched my nape and shrugged.

They say you had to spend money to make money, and I’d done that in spades. The pop-ups were doing fine, but they’d cost a ton of money to get off the ground. Prime real estate was very pricey to let in this section of town, even for a short-term stint. The shop was small but in great condition, and it came with a fully functional kitchen, so…cha-ching.

According to the marketing expert I’d hired, I had to make it my own via aggressive branding. A paint job, awning, logo, refurbished flooring, new counters, artwork, and a fancy fucking chandelier later, I was in the red. That was before I paid said expert’s fee and wages for the employee I’d hired. The one who was out sick.

Was I stressed? Uh…you could say that. My regular orders in London paid the bills, and the temporary Oxford location held its own. But I might have bitten off more than I could chew with this one.

“Can Theo help?” Becca asked, breaking my reverie.

I wrinkled my brow as if considering her question.

Help wasn’t what I had in mind. I wanted to listen to Theo’s steady stream of sunny banter, feel his fingers on my arm, his shoulder pressed against mine, and sniff his peppermint-scented hair. I wanted to calm him when he felt nervous and kiss him…hello and good-bye.

And I really wanted to put my hands all over his body.

Did I actually think that would happen over or after lunch? It probably shouldn’t. I was too old for him and he was too…good for me. Too sweet, too nice, too innocent. Okay, maybe not so innocent. That hand job was his idea.

And I loved it. I wanted to do it again.

I cleared my throat. “I’m seeing him tomorrow for lunch.”

“That’s brilliant!” she enthused. And yeah, according to Becca and most of my British friends, all good things were “brilliant.”

“We’ll see.”

Becca sneak-hugged me and kissed my cheek, no doubt leaving a red-lipped tattoo. “Try not to worry, love. Everything will be all right.”

My smile was weak as fuck, but I hoped she was right on a few counts. I hoped I could figure out how to turn a bigger profit, how to build my business, and how to get things back to normal between Becca and me without blowing up our friendship.

And I hoped to get another chance to know Theo. I wasn’t greedy. I’d take an hour or two.

Starting with lunch.

* * *

Bradford-on-Avon wasa quaint village that boasted a small market, a Sainsbury’s, a handful of convenience stores, and a lot of churches—Baptist, Anglican, Roman Catholic, and more. It was pretty and picturesque with winding narrow streets carved into the hillside and well-preserved stone structures covered in ivy.

I loved places like this where you literally walked the same streets the Romans had two thousand years ago, and Saxon warriors did a thousand years later.

Today, it looked like what it was—a sleepy, idyllic town miles away from the nearest metropolis.

The sun battled to break through the afternoon clouds as Theo and I strolled across the bridge, making our way to the restaurant I’d chosen. He’d met me at the train station and talked my ear off about his mom’s dogs, the mince pie she hadn’t mastered, and their Scottish neighbor whom he didn’t understand.

“It’s okay. I don’t think he understands me either. We both smile and nod a lot. It works, ’cause he’s one of my favorite new people.” Theo thanked the waiter for the menu and ordered a glass of white wine before turning to admire our view of the river from our booth next to the window. “Oh, this is nice. Mom said this restaurant is one of her favorite spots.”

I followed his gaze. He was right…it was lovely, even on a cold January afternoon. Bare trees bent their branches like fingers trailing through icy water and stone walls seemed to match the color of the sky, in spite of the sun’s best effort. It was charming.

So was Theo.

I didn’t mind his nonstop chatter, and that wasn’t something I ever said about anyone. I got the impression he didn’t say anything he didn’t mean. And at this stage in life, where I felt like I was supposed to have answers I didn’t, I appreciated his realness.

“I have to ask—what did your mom say when you told her you were meeting an airplane acquaintance friend?”

Theo snickered, choosing a fresh roll from the bread basket. He tore it open and reached for the butter, spreading it liberally before biting into it with gusto. Call me crazy, but that kind of turned me on. Or maybe it was his wide smile and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes.

He chewed and swallowed, primly brushing crumbs from his fingers. “First, she asked if I’d lost my mind, then she suggested calling Giles.”