Page 6 of A Box of Wishes
“Forgot. What can I say? I love my job.”
Ryan waved Paula away as she came to take Alastair’s order. “I’ll look after this one, don’t worry.” Then he turned to his cousin. “I’m baking. Come back to the kitchen and talk to me.”
“What? Not even a cuppa to greet me?”
Ryan rolled his eyes. “We’ll have a pot of tea, Paula. The Irish.”
She regarded Alastair from narrowed eyes, but then nodded, as if satisfied he deserved the special tea.
“Through here and to the right, just as before. Grab a seat while I get the croissants out of the oven.” The timer beeped right on cue, and Ryan’s eyes met Alastair’s. They were both grinning.
Alastair reached into the inside pocket of his coat. “Catch.” A cloth bag flew across the kitchen.
Ryan caught it right before it smacked him in the face. He buried his nose in the cloth and breathed the heady aroma of roasted cocoa nibs. “That’s gorgeous. Thank you! I knew there’s a reason I like to have you around.”
“Yeah? Then try these.” Alastair pulled more cloth bags from his coat, like a conjurer planning to impress his audience.
Ryan’s grin grew as he unwrapped cinnamon quills, anise stars, cloves, and allspice berries, each more fragrant than anything his suppliers offered.
“We’ll have the new harvest in stock by the second week of January. Let me know what you need.”
“Oh, I will. And thank you.” Ryan kept sniffing, loving the treats his cousin handed out as if they were nothing when he had at least a hundred quid’s worth of spices sitting on his counter. But that was Alastair all over. His older cousin was generous to a fault, rarely lost his temper, and always had Ryan’s back.
“Can I share these with my da?” His father, chef patron of a local restaurant, appreciated fresh spices as much as Ryan did.
“No need. I have a box for him as well. And one for Cara. I didn’t realise she’d brokered a deal between her boss and mine. Ruawal is pleased as punch.”
“Do Cara’s delis sell spices?”
“They do now. She suggested bundling spices into themed dinner kits, and they’re flying off the shelves. Fine by me. Means I get to go to Indonesia in the new year for more pepper.”
“Thank you.” Ryan took the tea tray from Paula and set it on the counter running the length of the back wall. He peeked into the pot, then replaced the lid to let the tea brew a little longer.
Alastair pulled up a high stool and settled with a sigh. His aura was dim, an uncertain green mottled with a wavering grey. With the smile gone from his face, his hair a dishevelled mess, and the layer of strawberry blond scruff covering his cheeks, he appeared more than usually travel-worn and tired.
Ryan hadn’t often seen him like this. Alastair was a snazzy dresser, stylishly turned out even after a night in a drinking den, or at the end of a trip around the world. “Does Aunt Nessa know you’re home?”
Alastair’s expression darkened. “I’m sure your ma will let her know.”
“Still not talking?”
“I’ll call her the next time I want a lecture.”
Ryan didn’t comment. Alastair’s mother didn’t get on with anyone. As a boy, Ryan had spent as much time avoiding her as he’d spent luring Alastair to his own home to hang out. When she’d returned to Ireland after the divorce, Alastair had stayed with his father and cousins, and now that he travelled the world for a living, he was less inclined than ever to break his journey in Dublin.
“What would you like with your tea?” Ryan set down a tray of golden croissants that oozed chocolate. “I also have iced buns, lemon drizzle cake, and apricot Danishes.”
“You think I need fattening up?”
Ryan gave him a measured look. Down. Up. Down again. “You won’t catch a single piece of arse looking like you do right now. Sleep’s what you need. And a shower and shave. I assume you’re just off a plane?”
Alastair moved his shoulders as if he needed to work out the kinks. “You assume correctly.”
“And you still don’t sleep on flights.”
“Also true.”
“Right then.” Ryan snatched up a plate and filled it with two slices of lemon drizzle cake, an iced bun, two chocolate croissants, and an apricot Danish. “I made millionaire’s shortbread yesterday, but that won’t go with the tea. I’ll make you a bag to take home with you.”
