Will You

  ♥

  Will

  You

  ?

  S J Crabb

  ♥

  Copyrighted Material

  Copyright © S J Crabb 2019

  S J Crabb has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the Author of this work.

  This book is a work of fiction and except in the case of historical fact, any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form without written permission of the author, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes only.

  NB: This book uses UK spelling.

  Contents

  More books by S J Crabb

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Epilogue

  Note from the Author

  Social Links

  More Books

  Preview of Fooling in Love

  ♥

  More books by S J Crabb

  The Diary of Madison Brown

  My Perfect Life at Cornish Cottage

  My Christmas Boyfriend

  Jetsetters

  More from Life

  A Special Kind of Advent

  Fooling in love

  sjcrabb.com

  1

  The smell hits me as soon as I open the door. It awakens my senses and calms my soul. Yes, this is what I love – an instant fix. Better than drugs and the only smell I ever want to savour – chocolate.

  As I look around the little shop, I smile to myself.

  My home.

  My business.

  My dream.

  I have a passion and it’s all around me. Chocolate.

  I knew what I wanted from a very early age. To open my own little shop selling the product that interests me the most. Luckily that dream came true and six months ago I opened the doors to my very own chocolate emporium. Chocolatti.

  I never dread coming to work. In fact, I wish it came with a little flat above it but unfortunately the one above this shop has a tenant already. Mr Bryan. He has lived here for close on twenty years and owns the freehold to the building. As landlords go, he’s a good one. A little eccentric but with a heart of gold. He pops down most days for a chat and I count my lucky stars that I found such a little piece of paradise so close to home.

  Collingdale is a smart little town that just made the grade up from a village. There aren’t many shops but the ones here are interesting and different from the chains in the nearby larger town. It’s a lovely place to be and most of the customers are regulars. I have grown quite fond of them and look forward to hearing about their everyday lives as they crowd through the doors every day.

  Maybe crowd was the wrong word to use. More a steady trickle - ok, a slow drip as they pop their heads around to say ‘hi.’ Trade is ok but could be a lot better and I have to work doubly hard to meet the rent every month. However, I would open 24 hours a day if it meant making this business of mine a success.

  As I start my day, I shake off the worry at the door. It will be fine. Something will happen and everything will come good in the end. Maybe a busload of chocoholics will screech to a halt outside and spend their body weight in chocolate. Maybe a Hollywood producer will decide this is the perfect location for his next blockbuster and pay me a year’s takings to rent the shop for one week. Maybe an eccentric customer will donate a large proportion of their sudden lottery win to be kept in chocolate for a year and maybe fate will shine down on me and deliver me the customers I need every day just to keep this place going.

  I hear the door chime and look up as Richie stumbles through the door.

  “Nelly, darling, I need a fix of chocolate crunchies before I pass out.”

  Laughing, I reach for my friends’ usual guilty pleasure and smile.

  “I thought you were in Paris.”

  “I was. I came home last night a day earlier than planned because Roger’s home today and I wanted to be here to welcome him home.”

  “How is he?”

  Richie shrugs. “I don’t know. I expect he’ll fill us in with all the gory details later. You can see why I need the chocolate now.”

  I smile at him sympathetically. “Well, if you need any help, you know where I am.”

  He nods gratefully. “Thanks darling. I’ll be taking you up on that offer before the day is out if I know my boyfriend.”

  Richie’s boyfriend Roger has just had knee surgery. He’s not the best patient in the world and Richie will have his work cut out. Richie works as an Air Steward and is always off on some trip or another and will need all the help he can get when Roger comes home.

  He looks across the street and says with interest, “Have you found out who your new neighbour is yet?”

  I follow his stare and shrug. “No. The shopfitters have been there all week and said the signs are going up today. Maybe that will give us a clue.”

  “Didn’t you ask them what it’s going to be?” He says with interest.

  I shake my head. “I did but they wouldn’t say. They told me a guy has it and is turning it into some sort of coffee shop.”

  Richie looks excited. “That’s great. Maybe they’ll serve cake as well and then I can alternate between the two of you. Chocolate and cake, my two vices of choice.”

  I grin. “Are you sure about that? I’m guessing you have a few more vices up your sleeve than that.”

  He winks cheekily. “Chance would be a fine thing. Anyway, what about you? Have you decided that a life outside of this place would be something worth pursuing? I don’t know, maybe in the form of a date or two?”

  Reaching for the money he hands me; I shake my head sadly. “As you said, chance would be a fine thing. Where am I going to find my dream man in Collingdale? It’s the only place I ever go and the average age is fifty.”

  The door chimes again and we look up as my friend Angela heads inside. “Guys, you’ll never guess.”

  We look at her expectantly and she lowers her voice, although I’m not sure who she thinks is listening. “I just saw movement in the window opposite. It looks as if they’re cleaning off the stuff covering the windows. I really hope it’s a new dress shop. We could do with some Paris fashion in Collingdale.”

  Richie rolls his eyes. “As if Paris would come here. Most of the customers knit their own clothes or buy them from the charity shops. It’s no wonder the high street’s dying. This generation buy everything online and are so glued to their phones they wouldn’t see a ‘must have’ outfit beckoning them in from a shop window unless it had .com after it.”

  We nod in agreement. It’s true. The average age of my customers
is fifty and so any shop opening opposite needs to bear that in mind during their market research.

  Angela squeals excitedly. “Look, a hand has appeared at the window. They’re cleaning that stuff off.”

  We peer out and I see she’s right. A hand is systematically cleaning the swirly cleaning stuff that has obscured the windows and is revealing the shop behind the façade.

  Just for a minute, we all look in silence then Richie whispers, “It’s definitely a man’s hand.”

  Angela hisses. “Looks to have a strong arm on the end of it.”

  We crane our necks to get a better view and I try to make out what lies behind the person cleaning the windows. What on earth could they be selling?

  The hole in the window gets bigger and we see the body attached to the arm. Richie says with excitement. “Hmm, he obviously works out. Look at that t-shirt straining to hold itself together. One false move and it will rip in two.”

  He moves closer to the window and I say in alarm, “Don’t let him see you watching him. Pretend to be choosing something from my display.”

  Richie makes a big show of fussing with the window display and Angela whispers, “Well? Can you see anything yet?”

  “Only ever dream I’ve ever had involving a man, muscles and a naked torso.”

  Angela gasps and rushes over to join him and I hear her sigh. “Wow, this must just be the best view I’ve ever had. What a body.”

  I can’t help myself and rush over to join them to stare at this obvious Demi-god who is putting on a show.

  As I reach the window, I gasp in horror, “What the hell?”

  The silence says it all as I say angrily, “You have got to be kidding me.”

  My two friends share a look and Angela says timidly, “I’m sure it’s not as bad as it looks.”

  Staring at them angrily, I shout, “Well, I’m not standing here waiting to find out. I’m going right over there and confront that man with the hands immediately.”

  An uncomfortable silence follows me as I stomp across the street with only one aim in mind. “Stop this shop from ever opening and send this man with the hands and sexy body right back from where he came from.”

  2

  I’m not sure I see anything but the red mist before my eyes as I knock sharply on the window. A face peers out of the hole that’s appeared and I gasp. I know him.

  Just for a moment, we stare at each other and I’m not sure who is more shocked.

  Jack Mason. I don’t believe it. The guy from my class at school and the one I obsessed over for six long years. The captain of the football team and the subject of every girl in schools’ fantasies.

  He looks just as shocked as me and then I remember why I’m here and point to the sign that’s just revealed itself and frown.

  He looks surprised and then the penny drops as I tap my foot angrily on the pavement outside. Grinning sheepishly, he shrugs and moves away from the window and I wait for him to open the door. Meanwhile, the sign mocks me with its devastating words.

  ‘More Than Chocolate.’

  If this is what I think it is, I have just seen my happy ever after threatened cruelly. More than chocolate indeed. If there is one hint of the dark stuff in there, I will lose any cool I have tried to master. Nobody is opening across the street in direct competition with me if I have my way.

  The door opens and I try not to let the sight of that torso sway me from my anger. Apparently, cleaning windows is hot work because Jack flaming Mason has stripped to the waist and his abs are doing some sort of strange workout before my very eyes.

  Punching the giggling girl from school firmly back to the past where she belongs, I place my hands on my hips and glare at him angrily, saying tightly, “Do you care to explain yourself.”

  He looks amused which instantly makes me want to punch him in that tempting mouth. “Well, well, Nelly Gray. Fancy seeing you here.”

  Trying to keep the surprise from my voice that he even remembers me, I say tartly, “Enough with the pleasantries. What the hell is going on? This had better not be what I think it is.”

  He grins. “What do you think it is?”

  Rolling my eyes, I say slowly as if talking to an idiot, “Well, ‘more than chocolate’ may indicate the presence of actual chocolate within these premises. As you can see, I have a chocolate shop in town and so there is no room for any more. Maybe you should just change direction before you make a fool of yourself. I mean, what were you thinking, opening in direct competition to an established business? Collingdale isn’t big enough for two chocolate shops, especially opposite one another. What sort of business course did you attend if you thought that was a good idea?”

  Jack shrugs. “What’s the matter Nelly, are you afraid they’ll prefer my shop to yours?”

  I almost can’t speak with anger. “Are you serious? I mean, did one of those footballs from school hit you on the head and knock all the sense out of you? There is absolutely no way on earth I’m going to stand for this, do you hear me? Change direction immediately or get out of town. You have been warned.”

  To my intense irritation, he starts to laugh. Placing my hands on my hips, I glare at him and if looks could kill, he would be experiencing a slow, painful, death by now.

  He moves closer and I swallow hard.

  Suddenly, it all comes flooding back. The childhood crush on the coolest guy in school. The endless dreams as I stole a look from across the room as he flexed his muscles at the back of the class. The jealousy, as I watched him openly flirt with every passable girl for miles, except me it seemed and the anguish when he started dated princess popular who I hated with a passion. Now he’s staring at me with that look and I absolutely hate myself for instantly forgiving him on the spot. Why am I now hoping he sees me as something a bit more than Nelly Gray? The slightly odd girl, who shrank in her seat at the front of the class and was left out of every friendship group in the building because her father was the flaming headmaster?

  He leans forward and time stands still. I watch with fascination as his eyes hold mine and twinkle with the confidence of a man who knows he can have anything he wants in life. I almost forget to breathe as he speaks in the slow amused voice that used to make my heart flutter. “As the name suggests, darling, it’s more than chocolate. Lots more to be precise. The chocolate probably makes up one percent of my stock because this emporium is my coffee shop/gift shop. If the locals want chocolate they won’t find anywhere near as many varieties in here as they will across the road. Happy?”

  I am actually speechless. Am I happy? Absolutely not if you think having a rival shop open its doors opposite run by the local love god is good business sense. However, the girl I was is deliriously happy that he is moving in. Eye candy of the sweetest kind. The man whose name adorned my school books with a heart surrounding it. My name coupled with his as I imagined the impossible and dreamt we were a couple. This is the stuff of dreams and nightmares combined and for once I am shocked into silence. So, I do what I’ve always done when faced with a situation out of my comfort zone, I turn and walk away.

  As I head back to Chocolatti, I feel my heart thumping with every step I take. Jack Mason is here! In my sights and working opposite me every day. Surely a ruined business is a small price to pay for such a treat. Surely, I’m overreacting. I mean, he’s so popular he will certainly draw the crowds. Yes, this is working out very well, actually. Maybe this is a gift from God, God’s gift himself. Yes, what a great idea. A rival made from my dreams, come to enrich my life.

  Then reality bites. This is a disaster. I’ll be out of business within a month. Who will want to come to my shop when he’s across the road? The tears well behind my eyes and I feel so out of control it hurts. I can’t compete with him. This is a disaster.

  Trying to put on a brave face, I head back inside my shop and Richie says hesitatingly, “What did you say?”

  Shrugging, I put on my brave face and say nonchalantly, “He thinks he can open up in direct competition w
ith me but I set him straight. I told him, using some very forceful words I might add, that I’m most unhappy about the situation. I warned him what would happen if he dares open those doors to the paying public. In fact, I’m quite pleased with how I dealt with that situation. Yes, you should have heard me, I was magnificent.”

  Angela looks at me through wide eyes. “But that’s Jack Mason. The Jack Mason. You know, the boy you used to…”

  “Yes, well, enough about all that schoolgirl stupidity. It might have escaped your notice, Angela but I have somewhat matured since my schooldays and men like Jack don’t figure in my plans at all. In fact, when I just saw him close up, I wondered what I ever saw in him. Good grief, what was I thinking, all brawn and no brain? Definitely not my type at all.”

  “So, what is your type?”

  I freeze on the spot and my friend’s expressions confirm my worst fears. He’s here.

  3

  Spinning around, I see him lounging casually on the door frame as he looks at me with amusement.

  I try to act as if nothing happened and say haughtily, “I’m sorry, may I help you with a purchase?”

  He laughs, which instantly gets my back up and saunters into my shop looking like any other paying customer. Grabbing a few packets of chocolate off the shelf, he places them on the counter and grins.

  “I’ll have these please and while you’re packing them up you can answer my question. What is your type?”

  Quickly grabbing the chocolate, I shrug and place them in a bag. “That will be £10 please and as for my type, well, somebody intellectual, definitely not into sports. A man who speaks many languages, preferably with a French accent. Somebody well-travelled and successful with his own company and a staff of hundreds. A helicopter would be nice, oh and a house in the country as well as one in the town. Somebody who loves the theatre and the arts who thinks learning Chinese and volunteering in third world countries is a great holiday experience. Yes, definitely not someone shallow, obviously vain and obsessed with his looks with a passion for airheads. Oh no, definitely not that sort of guy who has so few brain cells he thinks opening a shop in direct competition with another business in a small town is good business practice. Anyway, if that’s all, have a nice day and goodbye.”