“It’s like an episode of Homes Under the Hammer and Money for Nothing combined…and I’ve just Escaped to the Country,” Charlie said.

“Impressive knowledge of daytime television for someone with a full-time job.” Rosie got up from her knees. She’d been covering the plinths with masking tape so they could start painting the wall first thing tomorrow.

Charlie still hadn’t divulged more details about her life in London. In fact, Rosie didn’t even know her last name, which made it rather difficult to google her and find out all the things Charlie wasn’t willing to come forth with herself. But Rosie shouldn’t think like that. Look at what Charlie was doing for her cafe.

A broad smile, a deep gaze into Rosie’s eyes, and some marketing buzz words had been enough to make Rosie change her mind about selling the cafe, and she’d taken down the For Sale sign hardly an hour after she’d put it up.

Charlie just shrugged. She sat at a table, scrolling on her phone, which had buzzed a few times already with incoming messages. “Come look at this.” She beckoned Rosie over.

After having spent the better part of an hour on her knees, Rosie was happy to sit on an actual chair for a minute.

“What do you think of these for the cafe?” Charlie showed her the phone screen.

Rosie stared at the image of a plate. It had an intricate blue pattern on it and looked decidedly different from the plain white plates Mark & Maude’s had been serving full English breakfasts on for decades. Most of the plates they used were chipped in more than one place. But a plate was one of those things that you could keep on using forever — no matter how chipped or how many times it went in the dishwasher, it always continued to fulfil its purpose.

“Pretty, right?” Charlie asked, head tilted.

“Pretty price tag as well,” Rosie said. Thirty-five quid a plate? Had the rebranding gone to Charlie’s head? She seemed to have lost her sense of perspective completely.

“It’s details like this that matter, Rosie,” Charlie said. “If you want to attract the right crowd.”

“Do you honestly mean to tell me that the pattern of the plate you eat your breakfast from makes a difference to your eating experience?”

“Of course. And look.” Charlie flicked her finger over her phone screen a few times. She had one of the newer models with a humongous screen. Rosie still used the iPhone she’d bought second-hand from Dave three years ago. “This cutlery goes with it.”

Rosie did Charlie the courtesy of glancing at the screen intently for a few seconds. Eighteen pounds for one fork? What world was Charlie living in? “I think we should perhaps focus on giving this place a fresh coat of paint before we decide on the details.” She pursed her lips.

Charlie reached for the bottle of wine she’d brought and filled an empty water glass — the cafe didn’t have any wine glasses. “Here.” She handed Rosie the glass. “Maybe this will make you more amenable to my lofty crockery goals.”

Rosie took hold of the glass. The memory of the other day’s hangover had long faded. So much had happened since then. She’d decided to sell the cafe, then give it another go for a few more weeks. She could actually do with a glass of wine right about now. She took a sip, then pulled the bottle closer and examined the label. “Where did you get this? Not at the local co-op, that’s for sure.”

Charlie’s features tensed for a split second. “At my friend’s house,” she said.

“Some friend.” Rosie took another sip. “I’d like to get to know this friend of yours. Will you introduce me?”

“She’s not local,” Charlie said. “She just has a house here.” She refocussed her attention on her phone, then turned its screen back to Rosie. “You never said what you thought of the cutlery.”

Rosie needed another gulp of wine before she could say what she wanted to express. “I really appreciate all your help, but buying paint tomorrow is already going to cost more than I can afford. I can’t add new plates and cutlery to that bill. And if I have to choose between the two, I choose the paint.” She flashed Charlie a warm smile. “And the free labour you’re so generously offering.”

Charlie held up her hands. “Okay, we’ll start with painting.” She shoved the phone in Rosie’s direction. “But you did like what I showed you?”

“I’m not denying you have exquisite taste.” The wine was helping Rosie relax. She sneaked another glance at the eighteen-quid fork. She still thought the price was ridiculous. Then Charlie’s phone lit up with a message. Before Charlie could pull it away, Rosie saw the name ‘Jem’ appear on the screen.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “You can never really leave London, can you?”

“A friend?” Rosie inquired.

Charlie bit her bottom lip before speaking. “My ex.” She followed up with a wary grin. “Now don’t go knocking back all that wine yet. We still have work to do today. Making over the entire cafe in one week is quite the challenge we’ve set ourselves.” She jumped out of her chair. “What’s next?”

Rosie looked up at Charlie. She wore a T-shirt with her tight jeans and that impressive shoulder line Rosie’d guessed at the previous night was gloriously on display. She pushed away the thought that Charlie might not be in Otter Bay anymore by the end of the week. Although she did seem to be able to set her own calendar. Or maybe all the texts she’d been getting — and had been looking quite guilty about — were from her family, demanding she come back to London, and back to work, pronto.

Rosie got up as well and, as she did, couldn’t help thinking that, once again, Charlie had expertly changed the subject as soon as it had ventured in the direction of her private life. Not that Rosie was that keen to discuss Charlie’s ex.

“Time to put those muscles of yours to the test,” Rosie said. “I’d like to move that sideboard over there.”

“Some girl power will be required,” Charlie said, “but I’ve no doubt we can do it.”

“Who needs men when you have two lesbians on hand to do the heavy lifting?” Rosie walked to the sideboard. It was about a million years old. She hoped it wouldn’t fall apart when they moved it.

“Let me see what you’ve got in the gun department.” Charlie had followed her and grabbed Rosie by the biceps. She encircled Rosie’s arm and squeezed gently. “Hm,” was all she said.

Rosie stuck her hands on her hips. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Charlie flexed her arm, her biceps bulging. The sight of them made Rosie swallow hard. “It doesn’t really compare does it?” Charlie stood there grinning.

“I can’t go only on sight.” She took a step closer. “I may have to cop a feel myself before I can reach an informed decision.”

This time, Charlie took a step closer. They stood only inches apart. Charlie flexed her muscle a bit more.

Slowly, Rosie brought up her hand. Before she touched a finger to Charlie’s upper arm, she stopped the motion of her hand. Her breath grew shallower. A hint of Charlie’s perfume drifted up her nose. Rosie rubbed a fingertip over the swell of Charlie’s upper arm. Her skin was smooth, the muscle underneath rock hard.

She glanced away from Charlie’s arm and looked her in the eye. God, her eyes were the most peculiar kind of colour. Rosie had never seen that kind of green, flecked with tiny spots of gold.

Rosie tilted her head. She couldn’t stop herself. She’d wanted to do this last night, when Charlie had ended the evening with a peck on her cheek. Rosie was going for her lips now. She closed her eyes, inhaling more of Charlie’s scent. She let her fingers sink down deeper into her biceps and prepared for her lips to meet Charlie’s for the very first time.

The door of the cafe opened. They both jumped and quickly took a few steps away from each other.

“I thought you could use some help,” Paige said. She looked from Rosie to Charlie, then back at Rosie. “Unless you’d rather do this just the two of you.”

“Don’t be silly, any extra pair of hands is more than welcome.” Charlie walked in Paige’s direction. “Hi Paige,” she said, “how are you?”

“I’m all right.” Paige looked at Rosie again.

Rosie hoped her cheeks weren’t too flushed, although she could feel them burning. How much had Paige seen? If only she’d arrived a minute later. Or two. Or ten.

Rosie tried to regroup. “Right, this sideboard.” She tapped a hand against the piece of furniture. “Now that there are three of us, it definitely shouldn’t be a problem.”

They moved the sideboard away from the wall and Rosie put Paige to work behind it, applying tape and protecting the floor in preparation for tomorrow’s paint job.

Charlie was back on her phone. Had she received another message from Jem?

Rosie wondered if she should take Charlie outside and say something. But what could she say? Wanna have a go at that first kiss again?

Charlie put her phone in her back pocket and looked around the cafe. “What are we going to do with these tables?” she asked. “Upcycle, I presume?”

“It’s all the rage,” Paige said from behind the sideboard.

Rosie tried to find Charlie’s glance, but she kept looking away. Maybe that last message she’d received had given her an ultimatum to go back to London. Who knew, perhaps Rosie’s tall, dark, beautiful stranger would be gone by tomorrow and she wouldn’t even be there for the grand re-opening of the spruced-up Mark & Maude’s.

Her stomach twisted at the thought. She walked towards Charlie and put a hand on her arm, guiding her into the kitchen. “Everything okay?” Rosie asked.

Charlie nodded. “Your sister has the worst timing.” She gave Rosie a crooked grin that lit up her eyes — those eyes Rosie had nearly lost herself in earlier.

“Little sisters, eh,” Rosie said.

“Tell me about it.” Charlie seemed to be withdrawing again.

“Do you have one as well?” At least Charlie could give her the answer to that very simple question.

“I’m the youngest, actually.” Charlie rubbed her arm. “I have an older sister.”

“Oh, so you’re the young brat of the family. That explains it.”

“Explains what?” That crooked grin again.

Rosie ignored the question. “What’s your sister’s name?”

Charlie took a moment to reply. “Alex,” she said then.

“Could it be that your parents wanted boys instead of girls?” Rosie smiled, happy she knew at least a tiny fraction more about Charlie, who definitely remained a mysterious stranger to her.

Charlie chuckled. “That could very well be.” She straightened her spine and rose to her impressive full height, towering over Rosie a little. “Shall we get back to it?”