Page 66 of The Cornish Cream Tea Holiday
Ben laughed softly, reaching out to stroke Scooter’s fur. ‘No, because this isn’t – it’s not the right place.’
‘I know,’ she said quietly.
He leaned against the glass, holding his arm out so Thea could settle herself in the crook of it. She wondered if part of her had been wanting this to happen since the moment Ben had invited her here. Not the stranding, of course, but the kissing. She pictured Alex, with his twinkly eyes and easy charm, and tried to feel an inkling of regret about what had just happened. She couldn’t.
‘What are you going to call your bookshop?’ Ben asked, his words vibrating through her as her head rested against his chest.
‘I don’t know,’ she admitted.
‘What?’ He sounded surprised.
‘It’s mad, isn’t it? It’s been my dream for so many years, but I have no clue what to call it. The Port Karadow Bookshop – if I end up here, of course. Thea’s Reads? I want something unique and memorable, but whenever I try and come up with a good name – and even though I love words – my mind goes blank.’
‘Because you care about it so much.’
‘I do care,’ she said, as drowsiness slipped over her like an extra blanket. ‘I care a lot. I love that you understand.’
She was woken by Ben shaking her gently, whispering that it was time for them to go. Her immediate concern was that she’d dribbled on his T-shirt, but when she looked up at him, his features lit by moonlight, now, instead of the fiery sunset, his smile was warm.
‘We’ve got a causeway again,’ he said. ‘Better not miss this one as well.’
‘Of course not.’ She extracted herself from him and they put everything – the Tupperware boxes, the empty bottles– back in their rucksacks. Scooter had been dozing, too, and Thea conjured an image of Ben watching guard over them both, shooing away any giant spiders that tried to get close. The thought made her smile.
Walking back across the causeway, the moon a bright, surreal guide, was one of the strangest, most breathtaking things Thea had ever done. Ben led the way, his arm behind him, his hand out towards her – not to hold, she didn’t think – but as reassurance. She could grab it if she needed to.
The drive back to the cottages was quick, the roads empty, and the whole time Thea had to resist pressing her fingers against her lips. They still tingled from all their kissing, from the slight scrape of Ben’s stubble. He parked the van in its usual place, and she wondered what would happen now. It was really late, and even though part of her was crying out for Ben to come inside with her—
‘We should probably get some sleep,’ he said softly. ‘Seeing as we’re back quite a lot later than I’d planned.’
Thea nodded, smiling. ‘Thank you. I don’t think it’s a day I’m going to forget in a hurry. I really enjoyed it.’
‘I did too, despite my monumental slip-up. Maybe we could catch up again, in a couple of days?’
‘I’d love that. I owe you a lasagne.’
‘You don’t owe me—’
‘I want to,’ she rushed, and he nodded.
The awkwardness between them felt sweet: tender, somehow, and when she got out of the van, Ben walked her to her door, even though it was only a few metres away.
She unlocked it, then turned, noticing the way Ben was looking at her, his brow slightly furrowed. She reached a hand behind his neck and pulled him towards her, giving him a soft kiss, letting her mouth linger against his.
‘See you soon,’ she said. She went inside, leaving him standing there, a whisper of a smile on his lips.
Sleep came easily, but didn’t stay. She kept waking, her mind replaying the view from the lighthouse, how the causeway had disappeared without them noticing; their first kiss, the seconds of anticipation before Ben’s lips brushed against hers; his question about her bookshop name, and Alex, with his cheerful smile and encouraging words, the way he’d shown up just when she’d needed him, a white knight in a suit and tie instead of armour.
Thea tossed and turned, the sheets tangling around her legs, her bedroom much warmer than the top floor of the lighthouse. The one thought she kept returning to, was that she hadn’t had a name for her bookshop when Ben asked. Did he think she was fickle, that her plans were unrealistic after all? The idea that he might think less of her wouldn’t leave her alone.
She woke up mid-morning, her eyes gritty, and forced herself into the shower, then downstairs for breakfast. She spent the day drifting around the cottage, reading but not focusing, looking out of the window and wondering where Ben was, and what it would be like between them from now on.
On Friday, she got up early and drove to the Eden Project. It had been on her and Esme’s list: a must-see attraction. The huge domes replicating Mediterranean and rainforestecosystems held her attention for a while, but Ben and the bookshop kept slipping into her thoughts to distract her, and she went in search of fresher air.
Outside in the gardens, she bought herself an iced tea and sat on a bench close to a vine-strewn pergola. There was only one person she wanted to talk to when her thoughts were so tangled – and she couldn’t speak to Ben about her feelings for him – so she got out her phone, navigated to the right number, and waited.
‘Thea?’ Esme said. ‘I haven’t heard from you for ages!’
‘I thought you’d probably be too busy to talk,’ Thea replied. ‘Today’s the last day of the festival, isn’t it? Has it gone OK?’
