Right Number, Wrong Girl

“Oh.” Bugger it. “That’s fine, I just got here and wanted to explore anyway. I don’t suppose I could reserve that table in the corner, could I?”

“Sure can.” She pulled out a clipboard from a shelf at the back of the bar. “What time? Four-thirty? I can get your order in for five that way.”

“Oh, yes. That would be wonderful, thank you.”

“What’s your name?”

“Sophie Smith.”

“Well, Sophie Smith, that’s all yours.” Her nose wrinkled up when she smiled. “I’m Caitlyn, but everyone calls me Cait.”

I held my purse to my chest. “Thanks, Cait. Where would you recommend a woman starts exploring around here?”

“Well, if you’re hungry, Alice’s bakery down the street is a good starting place.” She winked at me. “Then just hop from shop to shop, and there’s also Cavendish House if you’re here long enough to drive over there. Part of the estate is open to the public if you like that sort of thing.”

I did not.

But it wasn’t like I had a choice anyway, so…

“I’ll keep it in mind. Thanks. I’ll see you at half four.” I retrieved my things and waved goodbye to her before I left the pub.

I took her advice and went to the bakery, grabbing a fresh cream éclair and a cup of tea to go. After eating it while sitting on a bench that overlooked the stream, I made my way slowly through the village, popping in and out of the shops. By the time four-thirty rolled around, I’d been in almost every shop in the village and had procured myself two bags of groceries and spent more money than I should have in the sweet shop.

I’d had a momentary lapse of judgement.

That, or the sour blue and pink bottles had taken over my life.

Spoiler alert: it was the bottles. They were the best sweets ever, and I was fully prepared to fight anyone who said otherwise.

“Sophie!” Cait grinned and waved when I walked in. “You look like you’ve been busy.”

I bit my lip and smiled. “I had a great afternoon.”

“Your table is ready for you. I’ll bring you a menu over in a second. Can’t take your order ’til just before five, but it’s got a drinks list on there, too.” She nodded her head in the direction of my table.

“Thanks!” I grinned and walked over to it.

“Who’s that?” a guy asked at the bar.

“That’s none of your business,” Cait replied to him with more than a little amusement in her voice. I didn’t hear anything else after that, but I carefully hung my coat over the back of my chair and peered over.

I hadn’t noticed the guy standing there, so he can’t have been there when she’d greeted me.

Trust me.

He was the kind of guy you noticed.

Tall. Dark hair. Broad shoulders. And his voice was deep and rich—if melted butter on toast had a sound, it would be his voice.

Their conversation lasted only another minute before Cait slid two pints across the bar to him, gave him a firm look that was accompanied by a wry twist of her lips, and he laughed as he picked up the beers and disappeared to the other side of the bar out of my line of sight.

I pulled my phone out of my bag and ran through the mountain of notifications I’d accumulated during my afternoon out. The only one that really mattered was the message from Camilla.

CAMILLA: Did you make it there ok????

CAMILLA: Hello?

CAMILLA: SOPHIE ARE YOU ALIVE