‘Thanks again,’ said Emma appreciatively, as she handed him a box of chocolate-dipped fudge with a twenty-pound note from the till. After all the hard work she couldn’t not give him some cash at least, as well as the beer money.

‘Ah, cheers.’ And he headed jauntily off down the hill.

‘I’d better be going too. I’ve got that other job to check on.’ Max turned to face her.

‘Yes … well, I suppose you had.’ She felt a weird pang of disappointment, but of course Max had his own business to run and life to lead. ‘Of course, Max. I really don’t know how to thank you enough. Can I pay you for the work? For the wood, at least?’

‘No, absolutely not. There’s no need to pay. I don’t want anything.’

‘But—’

‘It’s fine. Honest.’

Aw, he was really lovely. Yes, she still felt a bit confused, but she was sad that he was heading off and she didn’t know when, or even if, she was going to see him again. She had to admit he looked pretty damned gorgeous stood there, all ruffled hair, and sawdust on his clothes. He had come up all this way when he was already busy to help her out. She remembered how close they had been last night on the sofa.

‘Will you be coming back at all?’ What are you doing, woman? Inner Bouncer was back again.

‘Ah …’ He sounded unsure.

It was a long drive, she knew, and he’d worked like a Trojan here. He’d be ready to get back and get on with his life in Hexham, just as she had asked him to do two weeks ago.

‘Do you want me to?’ he asked.

They held each other’s gaze for a second, both wondering what was coming next, where they went from here.

‘Yes.’ She didn’t know how or what or why, but the thought of never seeing this guy again crushed her. She stood looking at Max, who was gazing back at her intently, that one word so meaningful between then.

He smiled. ‘Well then, that would be great. Shall I come back tomorrow after work? I could try and get an early finish.’

‘Okay, yes, that’d be lovely.’

And the sense of tension in that room notched itself up several volts. Emma felt her cheeks burn and headed off for the kitchen to find something, anything to do, whilst Max got on with sweeping up the last shavings of sawdust and emptying them into the dustbin outside, ready to set off.

Once Max had left, Emma had the shop all to herself, and time to think. Was she doing the right thing agreeing to see Max again? Was it just the intimacy of being close last night that had made her cave in? It didn’t solve all the other problems, did it? She felt cross with herself.