She turned away from the Chef’s Theatre, planning to go back to the unit and get on with another batch of pies when she spotted Gabe walking away from the Net Loft. It wasn’t clear whether he’d been in the premises or not and she didn’t want to ask him what his plans for it were. She was still in a dilemma over whether she wanted him to hang around Porthmellow or not. Her heart said one thing – her head another. One thing that wasn’t in doubt was the impact he had on her physically. With shorts that showed off his tanned legs and a sexy linen shirt, Gabe looked hot enough to burn up the quayside.

He waved and strode over to join her and gazed at the half-finished theatre with admiration. ‘Wow. It’s a thing,’ he said.

Sam smiled to herself. ‘Yes, it’s definitely a thing.’

‘I’ve cooked at festivals before but to see this in Porthmellow is really something. It must feel good to watch it finally coming together.’

She laughed. ‘More like terrifying. No matter how many times I do this, I always get the same feeling of horror about what I’ve unleashed on the town. There’s a weather front moving in and there are so many things that could go wrong …’

‘I’m sure that Sam Lovell can handle anything.’ His words were innocent but sent a shiver down her spine. Unlike the party evening, she was now stone cold sober but the same hopes and fears were still there. In fact, they’d only intensified while he’d been gone.

‘I always dread that there might be something I haven’t thought of or something that comes completely out of the blue and is too big to manage. That’s scary.’

‘What could possibly ever go wrong in sleepy little Porthmellow?’ he said, with a look and a tone that were unmistakably bittersweet.

Sam drank in the deep brown eyes under dark lashes. She could lose herself in those again so very easily. Perhaps she already had. ‘I can’t imagine,’ she said, guessing he was referring to their past history.

Gabe returned his attention to the theatre site. ‘I’ve been thinking about after the festival,’ he said, too casually.

‘Oh yes,’ her heart pitter pattered.

‘My meeting in London was to finalise details of the Net Loft. In fact, I’ve just met the agent for another look at the place. I’ve signed on the dotted line for the property and found a head chef.’

She searched his face. ‘So it’s definitely going ahead … but you’re not staying as chef yourself?’

‘Sadly, I’m too committed with other parts of the business, but of course, I’ll be very hands-on, especially at the start.’