Page 33 of Winter Nights at the Bay Bookshop

LILY

You don’t need to change either of those things, Lars. What had possessed me to say something like that? And where on earth had the husky voice come from? I didn’t know my voice was even capable of that tone.

Lars kept his eyes on mine and I was suddenly aware that my hand was still over his and I didn’t want to take it away.

Neither of us had spoken for far too long but I couldn’t seem to find any words.

My heart was racing and those butterflies had taken flight once more.

I feared that, if I spoke, I might tell him about the unexpected feelings he’d stirred inside me, how I’d sworn off men but would make an exception for him, and how he was the only person I’d ever told about what really happened with Justin that Christmas Day.

Mum and Dad had asked me how it had gone when I returned home on Boxing Day and, too ashamed to admit that my own flesh and blood had let me down so badly, I’d fobbed them off with a stack of true but not-the-full-story comments: not the best, you know how self-centred Justin can be, found myself counting down the hours till bedtime, won’t agree to any future Christmas Days with him.

The shop door burst open and Hallie and Rocco rushed up to the counter.

‘Mummy says the Bookmas tree is back!’ Hallie cried, grabbing her brother’s hand and running into the children’s section.

‘Just a quick look,’ Cassie called to them. ‘We need to get home and ready for swimming.’

She smiled in our direction and, when her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open, I realised I still had my hand over Lars’s and snatched it away.

‘Have I interrupted something?’ Her tone was teasing and I knew I’d never hear the end of this.

‘We were just talking about the window display.’ It wasn’t easy to keep my voice sounding innocent when my thoughts had been far from it.

‘Right. Cos I always hold my colleagues’ hands when we’re discussing the window display.’

Lars pointed to the door. ‘I’ll just take a look. See if I can shift my creativity quotient into positive figures.’

He’d barely closed the door when Cassie planted her hands on her hips. ‘Explain yourself!’

‘There’s nothing to explain.’ My burning cheeks suggested otherwise. ‘We were talking, he said something self-deprecating, and I put my hand over his. End of.’

She shook her head. ‘Lily Appleton, you’re granted a stay of execution today but only because we have to get to the pool. The interrogation will resume tomorrow.’

With a laugh, she disappeared into the back in search of Hallie and Rocco, bundling them out of the shop moments later with a wave.

I watched out of the window, hoping she wouldn’t say anything to Lars, but she was in too much of a rush.

Thank goodness for swimming lessons because I couldn’t even begin to explain to Cassie what was going on between Lars and me when I wasn’t sure how to explain it to myself.

Lars returned moments later, shivering as he stepped into the warm shop.

‘I’m sorry about Cassie,’ I said. ‘You didn’t have to leave.’

‘I thought I’d leave you two to it and see if inspiration would hit for the window.’

‘Did it?’

He wrinkled his nose. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’m out of ideas too. I’ve got plans for next week but I forgot to plan the interim window. Why don’t you grab eight festive books – the ones we’ve got most duplicates of – and I’ll get some individual display stands out. We can prop up a few of them and fan the others out.’

While Lars fetched the books, I opened the floor-to-ceiling cupboard behind the till. It had deep shelves which were ideal for storing display stands and props for the window. For now, as creativity was lacking, I lifted out some acrylic stands to keep it simple.

A customer arrived wanting help in finding a book she’d read about in a magazine.

It was the sort of query that always made me smile – I don’t know what it’s called or the author’s name but there was a woman in a red coat/a sunset/a house/a dog on the cover or, even less specific, the cover was blue/yellow/grey – but which also made me determined to track the book down for them.

On this occasion, the customer thought it might be set in Greece with a lemon tree on the front.

It turned out to be Italy with an orange tree but she purchased the book along with another which caught her eye and left with a big smile on her face.

A mystery solved and a satisfied customer made me a happy bookseller.

Lars asked me to check over what he’d done with the window while I’d been serving the customer and I was delighted with it. Not only had he displayed the books beautifully but he’d added a couple of Christmassy soft toys and some of the white flameless candles that I’d ordered for Halloween.

‘Looking great,’ I said as we stood outside. ‘Adding the candles gets you plus figures for creativity.’

The wind whipped my hair and wrapped its icy fingers round my arms. Shivering, I dashed for the door, closely followed by Lars. Winter was definitely coming.

‘That wind is biting,’ I said, rubbing my arms once we were inside. ‘Is it like that in Iceland?’

‘Usually colder and stronger.’

I rubbed my icy hands together. ‘I’m freezing!’

‘My hands are always warm,’ Lars said, putting them out towards me. ‘Can I?’

When I nodded, he cupped his hands round mine and I marvelled at how warm they were and how long his fingers were, completely encasing my hands.

I looked up into his eyes, my heart pounding once more.

We were standing so close to each other that I could smell his body spray – definitely not women-repellent – and see the lighter flecks and a darker rim around his grey eyes.

I really wanted to kiss him and I felt sure that, if I did, he’d respond.

I wonder what Cassie would say if she walked in now was the thought that dropped into my mind, but I didn’t voice it. I didn’t want to break the moment.

Unfortunately one of our customers did that for us. I groaned as the landline rang and Lars dipped his head as he released my hands.

I reached for the handset. ‘Good afternoon, Bay Books.’

‘Lily, it’s Mr Bryant. Have my books arrived, my dear?’

Mr Bryant was a long-standing elderly customer who’d recently discovered a love for cosy crime and was interspersing the work of classic writers like Agatha Christie and Dorothy L. Sayers with those of contemporary authors. He’d ordered a couple of Christie’s Hercule Poirot books.

‘They arrived with this morning’s delivery. I left you a message on your landline, but you might not have had a chance to check it yet.’

‘Apologies, my dear. I visited a friend this morning and I never remember to check for messages. It must be the third or fourth time I’ve done that. You must think me such a pest.’

‘I think no such thing, Mr Bryant. They’re both here and you’ve got about forty minutes until we close or you can drop by tomorrow.’

‘I’m keen to start one tonight, so I’ll be with you shortly.’

We said our goodbyes and I replaced the handset.

Lars had wandered over to the end of the room and was straightening the piles of books on our new-releases table.

I wished Mr Bryant hadn’t chosen that moment to call.

Or perhaps it was a blessing that he had because I could so easily have kissed Lars and that probably wouldn’t have been a good idea.

Lars had his back to me and I couldn’t help thinking that, if I didn’t speak, there’d be an atmosphere – nothing serious but that sense of awkwardness that came with a moment being interrupted. I fished around for something to say. Anything.

‘We didn’t get to finish our conversation earlier, Lars.’

I hoped he’d remember what the conversation was because, right now, my mind had gone blank.

All I could think about was rushing across the shop floor and kissing him.

Bad idea. Very bad idea. Although how much longer I could keep telling myself that, I wasn’t sure, because my heart was telling me the opposite.