Christmas at the Second Chance Chocolate Shop. Kellie Hailes
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flight back home. Sans Serena.
Ritchie grabbed his phone, tapped and swiped, then held it up for Serena to see. ‘Look. My calendar is clear. I’m not taking anything else on until you agree to be mine again.’
Serena slumped back into the chair and buried her face in her hands. ‘You’re serious about this, aren’t you? You’re not going to let it go?’
‘Nope. That’s the good thing about being an arrogant, rich, rock star – I don’t stop until I get what I want. Or who I want.’ Ritchie flashed a wink at Serena.
‘If you start stalking my daughter …’ Marjorie warned, shaking her forefinger in his direction. ‘I’ll leave you alone with Daisy. She’ll deal to you. Her farts are lethal. You wouldn’t stand a chance.’
Ritchie thrust his hands up, warding off the threats. ‘No. No stalking here. I won’t have to.’ He angled his head towards Serena. ‘The thing is, sweet thing, you may have given up on us. But I haven’t. Out of all the things I have going on in my life, you are the one thing I am certain about. I just need to remind you why. So I’ll start by being of help to those you love dearest. Show you I want to be properly part of your life.’ Ritchie sniffed the air. ‘Something’s burning.’ He looked up to see smoke snaking from the oven. ‘Marjorie, I think your bacon’s about to be charcoal.’
‘Giddy aunt.’ Marjorie snatched up a tea towel and fanned the smoke away while reaching over and twisting the grill’s knob off. ‘Just what I need.’ She glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘And would you look at the time? All this talk’s got me behind. The girls need milking. Serena, you started this. You’re going to have to finish it. Which means you’ll have to show Ritchie the ropes up at the milking parlour. Go. Go.’ She flicked the tea towel in their direction. ‘Make yourselves useful.’
***
Ritchie and Serena walked side by side in silence up the well-worn dirt road towards the parlour. Serena’s eyes scanned the ground before them, not once flitting towards Ritchie. Irritation radiated from her, punctuated by sharp hisses of breath as she picked up the pace; no doubt she wanted to get there quickly so she could get away from him as soon as possible.
Ritchie used Serena’s distraction as a chance to check her out, to see if six months apart had changed her in some way.
He saw the same wild long curly black hair. The same petite nose, perfect for kissing. Rose red lips in that little bow shape that drove him crazy. And the same brown eyes, the colour of espresso with a dash of milk. The kind of eyes a man could drown in. There were a few tiny new lines around those enchanting eyes, but essentially she looked the same. On the outside at least. For Ritchie sensed something within her had changed. The fierce and free Serena had taken a back seat to one who was calmer and more relaxed. Something he’d never known her to be.
His spirited wife had been tamed… by a business of all things.
Ritchie sucked in the soft flesh of his cheek and bit down on it, as uncharacteristic worry invaded the confidence he’d spent years cultivating. Just how badly would this business of hers impact his plan to win her back? Because he needed her back. It wasn’t just that he needed his muse in order to write… he missed her, utterly, totally and absolutely.
Life without her was lonely.
His ego had kept him ensconced in their Malibu mansion, whispering in his ear that she’d be back. And he’d believed it, because how could she not? They had a love unlike any other. At least so he’d thought.
Days had turned to weeks. Weeks to months. And she’d not returned. It had taken every ounce of humility he had to ignore his ego, to book flights, to come for her. But would she return with him?
Doubt gnawed at his stomach. Why would a person who was happy go back to a life that had made them unhappy? And what the hell was so damn great about running a chocolate shop? And how did Serena even know how to do that?
Ritchie squared his shoulders. It was no good asking himself all these questions. He wasn’t the one with answers. ‘So, Serena, since when do you know anything about running a business?’
Ritchie could see Serena was trying to keep neutral, but he didn’t miss the flare of pride brightening her face.
‘Since I started taking online classes. It was how I filled my nights once I returned home.’
‘Classes? As in plural?’ He sidestepped a cowpat and had to jog to reach Serena as she powered up the hill.
‘It’s wonderful to see your grip on the English language is as good as ever. All those late nights, booze, and Lord knows whatever else was offered to you on the road since I left, haven’t fried your brains.’
Ritchie caught Serena’s hand in his, bringing her to a stop. ‘Not fair, Serena. You know I don’t go in for all the ‘whatever else’ being offered to me. Not for years anyway. I stopped as soon as you told me it was taking its toll on our relationship. Booze, yes. Late nights, yes. But I had to do something while I was out on the road, alone. Then at home, alone.’
‘Are you trying to tell me you haven’t let one of those fawning groupies comfort you since I’ve been gone?’ Serena shook her head, her curls flying as a ‘pfft’ of disbelief escaped her lips.
Hurt skittered through Ritchie’s stomach. Did she really think so little of him? ‘I can’t believe you’d even suggest I would. God, I’m known for my faithfulness. The boys don’t call me ‘whipped’ for nothing. It’s always been you, ever since our eyes met across the crowd at that gig. You were all I saw in that heaving mass of faces. All I wanted. Nothing has changed. It won’t ever change.’
‘Well, maybe I have.’ Serena stopped outside the milking parlour. ‘Actually, no “maybe” about it. I’ve changed. I needed more than what was on offer back in LA.’
‘And that meant coming back to the place you were desperate to leave to see if it held something for you?’ Ritchie shook his head as he took in the sight before him… a herd of cows bellowed as they waited impatiently outside the grey breezeblock building with its matching grey corrugated iron roof. What the hell was he doing here?
‘We’re here.’ Serena stopped short of the entrance, her eyes focussed on the fields ahead, refusing to meet his.
Ritchie swallowed a sigh of irritation. Serena could ignore his questions and put up as many blockades as she wanted, but he wasn’t going to let it go that easily. At the very least he deserved a proper explanation. And if asking straight out wasn’t getting him the answers he needed then he’d turn on the flirtatious charm to get what he wanted.
‘So now that you have me here, Serena, what are you planning to do with me?’ Ritchie nudged his hip against hers and turned on his brightest ‘nothing you say or do is going to hurt me’ smile. One he’d had plenty of time to perfect when he was a young boy. When showing weakness meant a harsher punishment.
‘Don’t be cute with me, Ritchie. I’m going to show you how to milk the cows, like Mum ordered me to. Though Lord knows why you’d want to. Or why you offered. It’s not like you’ve ever shown an interest in the family farm… or in my family, come to that.’
Ritchie leaned in, his lips centimetres from Serena’s ear, always one of her ‘yes’ spots. ‘Maybe you don’t know as much about me as you think you do. Maybe I might be able to surprise you. If you’d give me a chance.’
‘I doubt that very much,’ sniffed Serena, her cheeks flaming from pink to crimson.
Ritchie gave her a smug smile, happy to see his words had their desired effect, despite the mock shiver of disgust he’d witnessed. ‘So, what do I need to do?’ He swung his arm over her shoulder companionably, refusing to let hurt engulf his heart when her body tensed at his touch and she ducked away from him.
Serena scanned the herd. ‘We’re going to have to get Daisy. She never comes when it’s time. She’s a difficult one.’
Ritchie