Christopher points to a radiator.‘Hang them on there.’
Nash does as he’s told, thankfully, before taking a seat.In front of him, Christopher deposits a steaming hot cup of espresso in a tiny cup on a saucer, with a wrapped-up Biscoff biscuit on the side – he keeps a box of them under the counter just in case.Normally, they’re unofficial Tegan snacks.
‘Thanks for all this.You’re a lifesaver.’
Nash gives him a lopsided smile that makes Christopher feel strangely exposed.Christopher nods awkwardly and returns to the safety of his counter, where he can pretend he’s doing anything other than noticing how handsome Nash is.Because he really is.He might scowl down at his phone, but it’s kind ofhot.And when he takes a sip of his espresso, Christopher finds himself licking his own lips.
What exactly are you supposed to do when the man of your dreams walks into your life?Especially when he arrives underdressed and exhausted.Ask for his number, probably.Make him a hot drink at the very least, and he’s done that.What now?Kit would absolutely tell him to get a grip and help him.
Nash drags him from his horny reverie with a ‘What do I owe you?’In his hand, he holds a black credit card, one of the ones that Christopher is pretty sure only exist for the seriously famous or seriously rich.The tills are all booted down – becausethey are closed.
‘It’s on the house.Call it a Christmas miracle.’
‘Thanks.This coffee is the best thing that’s happened to me today.’
Christopher clears his throat and stares intently at the counter he was permanently wiping before Nash Nadeau walked into his life.And for some reason, he says, ‘Just so you know, sheep truck is not a standard form of public transport here.’
‘Oh yeah?I figured it kind of made sense given how old everything is here in Merry Old England.’
‘Wales.’
‘Sorry?’
‘You’re not in England.You’re in Wales,’ Christopher says a little haughtily.
‘Isn’t Wales like part of England, though?Isn’t that why there’s a Prince of Wales or whatever?’
Christopher has been in Wales long enough to know exactly how some people feel aboutthatparticular royal title.And that’s apart from the way Wales gets lumped in with England all the time.Haf had told him that people never properly recognise Wales as a country seemingly as if to purposely annoy her – she likes to bring this up during the rugby, when she gets particularly patriotic.
‘No.It’s not.There are four countries, and the United Kingdom or Britain is them put together.’He’s pretty sure there’s a lot more nuance to it than that, but this will have to do.
Nash nods, taking this in.‘Noted.Sorry, I just need to check something.’He goes back to his phone without another word, and so Christopher takes the hint to busy himself until he’s needed.
On the back of a paper bag, he decides to take inventory of the bakery contents he could eat over the next few days.It feels wrong, but needs must – after all, who knows what state the supermarkets are in and there’s no way he’s going out in that weather again today.Though, he’s going to need a supply run if he wants to avoid rickets.
From across the café, he hears Nash swear.He looks up through the service window to see Nash waving his phone over his head.
Christopher takes one of the little cards with the Wi-Fi code on from the counter and lays it on Nash’s table.‘The signal can be wonky, but luckily we have Wi-Fi in this country.’
He meant it as a joke, but if he’s honest with himself, he’s quietly pleased with the look of embarrassment that washes over Nash’s face.
‘Thanks,’ Nash says, somewhat chastened.
From his safe place behind the counter, Christopher says, ‘Do you need any help by the way?You said you might be lost?’
‘Yeah, I’m trying to work that out.’
‘I thinktrying to work out if you’re lostprobably counts as being lost.’
‘I think you’re right,’ sighs Nash.‘I’m supposed to be staying ...well, I hope it’s nearby.I had some stuff open on my phone but at some point it refreshed and now it won’t load.But I had shown the sheep-truck guy and he said he’d dropped me off in the right place, but who knows.’
‘Are you here on holiday?’
The page on Nash’s phone loads incredibly slowly.
‘You could say that.It’s more like a solo escape.Though looking at this weather I feel as if it’s more likea trap.’
‘You’re here on your own?’
