Page 8 of Cosy & Chill
Between Visions and Dreams
The church bells chimed one in the morning when Leo climbed into bed, struggling to keep his eyes open. Caring for his grandma had made him an early riser and working the market had only reinforced that habit.
Not that he gave himself grief over his late night.
The lack of sleep might bother him tomorrow, but he felt more positive than when he’d set out to hawk ice cream around the town’s pubs and cafes the previous afternoon.
Meeting Finn had been a wonderful surprise. Leo hadn’t dated since he’d moved into this tiny bedsit and started Chill. He’d been too busy, and he’d swung between triumph, and anger, and grief too much to consider himself good company for more than a night. And one-nighters had never been his thing.
If Finn had suggested a quick romp, he wouldn’t have said no. Finn seemed so solid, so grounded, so delicious with his unruly mop of copper-bright curls, the spray of tiny freckles across his nose, and those unusual grey eyes.
Leo chuckled and slid deeper into the bed. Yes, he’d been looking. Finn’s eyes seemed grey, but they had little flecks in them, as if the birthday fairy had added a sprinkling of cinnamon.
Leo had had two beers. In no way could he have been said to be drunk. Yet he’d felt light as air walking beside Finn. He’d wished that it wasn’t so goddamned late, had wished they could have just kept walking and chatting until… well, until they ran out of words or thought of better things to do.
When they’d reached the empty store on the High Street, Finn had confounded him. He’d changed from the solid, grounded,togetherperson Leo had talked to all night into a man desperate to make a dream come true.
And hadn’tthattouched an answering chord in Leo’s chest!
He pushed his pillows into a pile and considered his tiny bedsit. His bed and a small armchair provided all the comfort there was. The wardrobe held his clothes and—in crates in the bottom—his freezer containers, metal mixing bowls, and utensils. A narrow kitchen cupboard, two-ring electric cooker, and a sink took up the far corner. Which left just enough room to squeeze in two tall freezers.
His landlady had blinked—twice—when the delivery men had heaved the freezers into place, but Leo had placated her with the promise of a steady supply of ice cream.
It felt like living in a kitchen, with the constant hum of the freezers as a backdrop, but Leo didn’t want to spend more money than he absolutely had to. It beat living at home—not that he could after the revelations in his grandma’s will.
He and Finn were much alike.
Finn had stared at the store with a longing that was more than the wish to have his own yarn shop. He’d appeared like someone who’d found his sanctuary. When he’d described his dream, Leo could picture the store, shelves brimming with colours and busy with customers, and Finn, cosily ensconced in a comfortable armchair, needles in hand.
Finn’s vision had been so compelling, Leo could see it still, even without Finn beside him. But behind those customers, behind the long wooden counter, he now saw himself, dispensing coffee, tea, cake and—of course— ice cream.
It was a beautiful dream, an image to hold close on a cold, tough day. It wasn’t what he’d imagined when he’d started Chill, but that didn’t mean the image was a mirage.
When Finn hadn’t been watching, he’d snapped a quick picture of the estate agent’s details. As one o’clock became two o’clock and he heard the church clock chime three, Leo wondered whether going to find out how much it would cost to rent the store was a sensible move or something that Finn would take amiss.
Because Leo wanted to see Finn again. He wanted to spend more evenings chatting as if they’d known each other for years. He wouldn’t do a thing to jeopardise that.
