Page 35 of Crossed Paths
He’s given me his blessing.
Chapter 11
Alexandra
The door bursts openin a swirl of cold air and boot noise.
Here they come.
The Ramblers, chattering and stomping and half-shedding layers before they’ve even cleared the threshold. Nancy’s in front, beaming like she personally led them to the summit of Kilimanjaro instead of a walk through the Dales.
I barely have time to exchange a look with Magda before the first wave hits the bar.
“Two pints of bitter, a lager, and a lemonade, please, love.”
“Do you still do the Rambler’s Break? I’ll have one of those, and a blackcurrant cordial.”
“Three coffees, two boards—oh, and he wants a pork pie if you’ve got one.”
It’s chaos. Glorious, money-ringing chaos.
I’m tapping orders into the till like my fingers are on fire, pouring with the other hand, Magda pulling glasses and nodding like a woman in a trance.
I reach under the bar, grab a bottle with a red wooden spoon sticking out of it, and place it down in front of the next customer.
“Number seven. Take that to your table so the kitchen can find you.”
She nods cradling the bottle like it’s an award.
The queue keeps growing. The till keeps singing. And somewhere in the blur, I realise something wonderful—
They love the charcuterie board.
I catch bits of it in passing.
“Oh, that’s proper cheese, that.”
“Is this chutney homemade?”
“Tell the kitchen the pickled walnuts should win an award.”
I don't have time to be smug, but the warm buzz under my skin tells me I might allow myself five seconds of pride later. Right now, we’ve got mouths to feed and taps to keep flowing.
Then the door opens again.
I don’t even need to look.
I feel it.
Hunter.
The sound of him laughing with Peter cuts clean through the rest of the noise—low and easy and stupidly attractive. Like it’s just for me.
I glance up, heartbeat doing that ridiculous skip I’ve stopped pretending I can control. Peter’s veering off toward another blond and drops into the seat beside her like it’s reserved for him.
Hunter’s still standing, studying me with a small smile on his lips. Then he makes his way toward the bar.
Toward me.
