Page 80 of A Manny for Christmas

‘You mean on the clock?’ I quip.

‘Exactly.’ She laughs. ‘No, I mean I should do all the painful bits myself, without them getting in the way, and then they can do the fun bits of sticking on the sweets.’

As we walk through to the open kitchen, I stand far too close to Molly, but I don’t give a fuck. There are a couple of chefs on the other side, presumably prepping for the dinner service. I help her take jar after jar of sweets and cake decorations down from an upper shelf as the kids watch, their eyes on stalks. And, as she stands at the workstation, the children beside her and a stack of small paper bags in front of them, I step up right behind her, caging her in with my arms.

She sags back against me slightly, but keeps talking.

‘Right. Rule number one, no touching the sweets in the jars. Okay? Use these shovels.’ She passes them a stainless steel shovel each, and I trail a finger down the back of her neck. She wriggles as she pulls the lids off several jars.

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s probably a function of having been apart from her for almost eleven hours. But, once the children are focused on the fiddly task of shovelling sweets out of the jars and into the little paper bags, I take a step back from them and hook a finger through the tie of her apron, pulling her against me. I slap the counter.

‘Nice, solid counter,’ I whisper in her ear. ‘Maybe I should come and see you one evening when you’re working late.’

‘Kitchen’s pretty full in the evenings,’ she whispers back. ‘And I’m pretty sure whatever you’re suggesting using those counters for would be a Health and Safety violation.’

‘I don’t know.’ I nip at her earlobe. ‘They’re stainless steel. A quick wipe down, and nobody would be any the wiser.’ I lower my voice to the barest whisper. ‘Imagine me stripping you and bending you over this. Imagine how cold that steel would feel against your tits.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ she hisses in a panic. ‘Where the hell did that come from? Behave yourself, for the love of God, and I’ll make sure you’re well looked after later.’

I’m not sure where that came from, but I’m getting hard just thinking about it. One thing’s for sure. I need some time with this woman. And by time, I don’t mean a quiet, hurried session when the kids are down and she has an early alarm clock to consider. I mean somepropertime.

Hmm. Something to talk to my brother about. I may need to call in some help.

29

MAX

‘Ineed to pick your brains,’ I tell Angus as we get stuck into a ploughman’s lunch in the Oast House. Usually, we’ll just grab a sandwich with the rest of the team in the large barn that houses the offices, but I wanted some privacy.

And I’m glad we chose this option, because there are ploughman’s lunches, and then there are Sorrel Farm ploughman’s lunches. Scotch eggs with a layer of pulled ham hock, which are so good they should be illegal. Crumbly Stilton from the farm’s creamery, and chutney made here, in the kitchen. A steaming mug of cream of tomato soup for good measure. Oh, and heavenly sourdough, courtesy of Molly and her team. This is hitting the spot and then some.

Angus sighs as he butters a slice of bread thickly. ‘I knew this was coming.’

I stare. ‘You knew what was coming, exactly?’

‘The conversation where you tell me you’re sleeping with Molly and ask me what the fuck you should do.’ He sinks his teeth into buttery heaven.

‘Oh. No, I don’t need advice on my sex life from you, mate. I just wanted to ask you how I can get her away from work and the kids for a few hours. I want to treat her to something special, and I wondered if this place would be an option.’

It hasn’t occurred to me that my brother would know about me and Molly, but the most likely explanation is that it’s come through the female grapevine, directly from the source.

‘So you’re not worried about where things are going with her?’ he presses. ‘You know exactly what you’re doing, I suppose?’

I pick up my mug and take a slurp of rich, warming soup before replying.

‘I don’t know exactly where things are going, no,’ I say evenly. ‘We haven’t really discussed it. But I can handle myself, don’t worry.’

My brother is one of the most mild-mannered guys I know, but even he has his limits, and from the sight of his hand white-knuckling his knife, I’d say he’s close to breaching them.

‘I don’t worry about you handlingyourself, believe me,’ he says through gritted teeth. ‘But you’ve got yourself involved again with a wonderful woman and two beautiful little kiddies, all of whom have had the shittiest year ever. So if you dare break any of their hearts, I swear you’ll have me to deal with.’

I stare at him in amazement. Fucking hell. I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen my middle brother so riled.

‘I’m not planning on breaking their hearts. They’re all amazing.’ The muscles of my own heart tighten at the mere thought of anyone harming a hair on Molly, Toby or Daisy’s heads. ‘Molly and I are… we’re having a great time.’ Understatement. ‘There’s a lot of history there. A lot of unfinished business. You know that.’

‘And you’re planning onfinishingit?’ he asks incredulously. ‘And then what? You fuck off and leave her to pick up the pieces?’

‘No. I—’

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