CORAL - Forever (A Romance Trilogy, Book 3) (57 page)

“Why thank you husband,” I tease, winking at him as I step
inside. Yes, I was right. This place definitely looks like the inside of a
battleship.

“So,” Tristan says, standing behind me and placing his hands
on my shoulders again. “What do you see?”

“It is too dark, just like I remembered. Um...the lighting
is really bad, and the chairs and tables definitely need changing.” I look down
at the four large tables that are in here, they look old and as though they should
be in some greasy cafe. You could really modernise this place!

“Why?” Tristan asks.

“Well, this is the business sector,” I say. Tristan nods in
agreement. “Most people go to lunch alone, or with one work colleague, two max’
– “What makes you say that?” He interrupts.

“Because most businesses don't close for lunch, so
somebody’s got to stay behind to cover the phones?” I say shrugging slightly,
wondering if I’m right? “Well, that seems to be how it is at Chester House.” I
add, turning to glance up at Tristan, surprised to see he has a very smug smile
on his face. “What are you’ – “Please by all means do continue,” he interrupts,
gesturing to the room and grinning widely at me.

I turn back around and do as he asks. Scanning the room, I
decide it would be possible to put ten small tables and chairs comfortably into
the space. “So get rid of the four tables,” I say. “Replace them with small two-seater
tables, I reckon you could probably get ten in here?”

“So they could seat sixteen before, and now they can seat
twenty?” He says, sounding proud.

I smile up at him.
What’s this all about?

“What else?” Tristan says.

“Hmm, it’s quite a long, narrow space, so if you positioned
the table and chairs correctly you could get a long breakfast bar/type counter
along the back left wall. What do you think, you could get maybe...ten stools
along there?” I ask.

Tristan shakes his head, in amazement, I think?

“Am I wrong?” I huff, frowning at him.

“No baby,” he chuckles leaning forward to kiss my temple.
“What else stands out to you?”

I look around the shop. “They may have it, but there’s no
sign saying Wi-Fi available? Most people want to jump on-line at lunch, and
free Wi-Fi is always a bonus!”

“And another enticement to eat here,” Tristan adds.

“Yes,” I smile, agreeing wholeheartedly.

“What else?” He asks, his eyes shining with love.

“It’s too quiet,” I whisper, because the people who have
just been served have sat at the closest table to us.

“How would you change that?” Tristan whispers back.

“Well, that’s a difficult one,” I say, shaking my head in
thought. “Don't really want it to sound like a doctor’s or a dentist’s by
playing classical music, but don't want to push away the Radio 2 lovers because
Radio 1 is always on. So maybe, just playlists, you know, different kinds of
music, catering to everyone’s needs?”

“Interesting,” Tristan murmurs in my ear. His hands are
still on my shoulders so he slowly turns me to face the counter. “This is the
part I’m most intrigued about,” he adds.

“You are?” I chuckle.

“Yes. What do you think?” He asks.

“About what?” I ask bemused.

“All of it, the menu, how it’s displayed, what they
offer...” Tristan trails off, his hand waving in front of him; I glance up at
him again and narrow my eyes –
What is this all about?
Not coming to any
kind of conclusion, I take a deep breath and begin.

“Ok, well they have a good selection,” I say, perusing the
menu.

“Meaning?” Tristan prompts.

I roll my eyes at him. “Of bread, you know, white, brown,
granary, baguettes, ciabatta’s, crusty or soft rolls...etc, etc...” I say,
waving my hand in the air like Tristan did.

“And that’s good?” He questions.

“Well yeah...if we all liked the same things, life would be
very boring, don't you think?” I cock my head to the side and smile sweetly at
him, it makes him chuckle.

“Ok, so they have that part right, but what’s missing?” He
questions.
Missing?

I look up and scan the menu board again, they have a good
selection of fillings. Meats, fish, seafood, vegetarian. But not everyone wants
that, where’s the salads? And why haven’t they got ready-made sandwiches and
meal deals going on?

“They haven’t got any meal-deals,” I say to Tristan, waving
my hand at the menu. I glance up at Tristan, he’s grinning triumphantly at me.

“Tristan’ – “Go on,” he interrupts.

I frown at his odd behaviour and continue. “They’re not
selling salads either!” I point out. Tristan cocks his head to the side, and
has his one eyebrow arched. “People enjoy cold salads! Not everyone wants bread
every day, I know I don't,” I add.

“Cold salads?” Tristan questions, his eyebrows forming a v.

I roll my eyes, exasperated. “Yes, people like pasta salads,
couscous salads, rice salads, bean salads.” Tristan doesn’t seem convinced. I
cross my arms and arch an eyebrow. “They always sell out at the little M&S in
town!” I say a little pompously, trying to prove my point.

“Really?” Tristan is pulling an I-didn’t-know-that-face and
slowly nodding his head in approval. “So you would add salads and meal deals to
the menu?” He questions.

“Yes, and maybe ready-made sandwiches. Sometimes, if you’re
in a rush, you don't have time to wait in a queue. They could put a board
outside advertising the fact, keep one girl on the till here so people can dash
in an out, so there’s no waiting around.”

Tristan nods once. “So you’ve added pre-made salads and
sandwiches, would introduce meal deals, and free Wi-Fi, and you’d change the
decor. Anything else?” He asks.

I shrug at him. “It’s a sandwich shop,” I say. “Tristan,
what exactly are we doing here?” I add a little exasperated by it all.

“Humour me.” He laughs, which makes me frown. “So you wouldn’t
change anything else?” He adds as I stare at his profile. Yes, I’d add lots
more, but that’s not the point!

With my arms still crossed, I start tapping my foot. “No!” I
bite. He’s up to something, but I’m not sure what? He turns and pulls me into
his body. My beautiful husband, he smells divine, is head to toe handsome and
happens to be the most well mannered, chivalrous man I have ever known. I peek
up at him through my lashes, he is gazing down at me, his eyes full of love and
warmth. “What?” I giggle.

Leaning down so he’s millimetres from my lips he whispers,
“I want something hot!” I blink up at him, his cheeks have flushed and his eyes
have darkened.

“Hot?” I breathe. Starting to feel
hot
and bothered
myself!

“Yes, hot and spicy,” he whispers seductively. I know
there’s a double meaning there.

“Like what?” I whisper breathlessly.

“What would you suggest?” He says, teasing me with his
heated look.

I blink several times, trying to get my brain to fire.
“Um...well...” I shake my head, and in an effort to kick start my brain, I look
away from Tristan’s molten lava look. I think I need to fan myself. “Hot and
spicy?” I whisper, looking up at the menu. And then it hits me! “I’d make you a
Cuban Sandwich!”

Tristan smiles widely at me. “How did I know you’d have the
answer! Tell me wife, what’s in a Cuban Sandwich?”

I smile coyly at him. “Ham, slow roasted pork, Swiss cheese,
pickles or jalapeños – depending on how
hot
you like it,’ I say raising
my eyebrows at him teasingly, ‘and mustard, all toasted on a sandwich until the
cheese is melted!”

“Sounds delicious,” he says his eyes widening as he leans
down, his lips almost brushing against mine. “And I like it hot!” He adds as a
wicked – turn my bones to jelly – tempting, teasing smile spreads across his
face.

I swallow hard. How can he make me feel like this when he’s
not even touching me? Now I’m just a bag of sexual tension and frustration! I
have no idea what this exercise has been about, and it’s driving me wild!

“I think you should add that to the menu,” he says,
chortling at my expression.

I stop breathing. “What!?”

“You heard me,” he grins.

My mouth pops open.
Holy fuck!

“Tell me Coral, what other choices of hot lunches would you
offer?” I go to speak but nothing comes out – What did he just say? ‘I think
you
should add that to the menu’. “I’m waiting,” he teases, grinning broadly – his
dimples distracting me.

“Um...” I blink up at him and start blurting it out.
“Panini’s, toasted sandwiches, um...Quesdillas?” I stop talking, my heart is
hammering against my chest, it’s making it hard to breathe.

“What about Jacket Potatoes, people like those in the
winter, don't they?” Tristan adds. Mmm...hot jacket with melted butter and
cheese. I’m drooling!

“Yes, they do. But what’s your point Tristan?” I gripe.

He turns away from me grinning widely, and steps up to the
food counter. “Good morning,” he says, smiling at the pretty blonde girl behind
the counter, her cheeks instantly flush. I want to roll my eyes, but I don't.

“Hi,” she squeaks –
Jeez, I hope I don't look that
helpless when Tristan smiles at me?

“Is Henrique in today?” Tristan asks
. Henrique? Who’s
Henrique?
She nods once; she seems to have lost the power of speech. “Good.
It’s an unscheduled visit, but can you let him know Tristan Freeman is here?” He
says. She nods again, scuttles from behind the counter, runs past the tables
and pushes through a door that clearly states ‘staff only’ – Tristan turns to
me, he’s wearing his smug smile.

I narrow my eyes at him. I have my arms crossed, my eyebrow is
arched and my foot is tapping in annoyance –
What is he doing?

“Mr Freeman!” I turn to see a young man with black hair,
almost black eyes and European skin walking towards us; he looks really young
too, twenties maybe? And has what I think is a Spanish accent.

“Henrique.” Tristan greets him warmly, shaking his hand.
“May I introduce my wife, Coral Freeman.” My heart slams against my chest –
Still not used to hearing that yet!

The young boy turns to me, and smiles in recognition. “Of
course, I’ve heard all about you,” he says as I glance at him then glare at
Tristan.

“You have?” I say, surprised.

“Yes.” His white toothed grin widens. “Please, take a seat.”
Tristan takes my hand and we head over to one of the tables. “Can I get you
anything?” Henrique asks.

“Coffee please, and a Cappuccino for the lady,” Tristan
says, winking at me.

I wait until Henrique is far enough away so he can't hear
me. “What are you up to?” I hiss, my voice low.

“Oh...just discussing buying a sandwich shop,” he answers
wistfully, waving his hand in the air. Then he leans back, crosses his legs,
and runs his forefinger across his bottom lip, just watching my reaction.

“For me?” I question, even though I know I’m right.

“Yes.” He grins triumphantly.

“I don't want a sandwich shop,” I say petulantly, crossing
my arms.

“You don't?” His eyebrows raise, I have his complete
attention.

“No, if I was going into the food industry, I would want a
restaurant. But we’ve already discussed this, the hours are dreadful,
especially at weekends – I’d never get to see you!” I add mournfully.

“Which is exactly why this place is perfect.” He tells me.
Oh
god!

“You’ve already bought it, haven’t you?” I choke out. Tristan
simply grins at me because Henrique has arrived with our drinks. He places my Cappuccino
down in front of me, passes Tristan his coffee, then sits next to him.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today,” Henrique says,
nervously biting his nails.

“Yes, sorry about the surprise visit, but something came up,”
Tristan says.

“Oh I see, is something wrong?” Henrique asks, looking even
more concerned.

“No, not at all,” Tristan replies. “Is everything set up
your end?” He asks.

Henrique nods. “Yes, thanks to you Mr Freeman, I can finally
get him home.”
Huh?

I gaze quizzically at the young boy, then glance at Tristan,
who very subtly shakes his head at me –
Oh! What’s that all about?
I
decide I will question it later, and silently sip my Cappuccino while Henrique
and Tristan talk politics, profit margins, and the best coffee beans to use.
How
very odd!

TWENTY
MINUTES LATER
, Tristan says his goodbye. “See you tomorrow to wrap
everything up,” he says, getting to his feet. I stand too, and wait by the
table.

Henrique shakes his hand again. “Mr Freeman, I cannot thank
you enough,” he says, and before I can stop him, he has turned around and
wrapped up in a bear hug –
What the fuck!

“You have the most wonderful husband,” he gushes, I gaze
wide eyed at Tristan. “Take care of him,” he adds, letting me go. Feeling
bemused, I say nothing, and smile quizzically at the young boy. “It was nice to
meet you Mrs Freeman,” he adds, then walks down the shop and into the back
room.

Tristan clasps my hand in his, and we walk out of the shop
without a word said, except for the goodbye he gives to the blonde girl, who
instantly turns scarlet.

“Tristan, what the’ – His lips meet mine, instantly
silencing me. Pulling back, with his arms tightly wrapped around my waist he
whispers, “Thank you.”

“What for?” I breathe, staring at his lips.

“Playing the game, and not freaking out. Henrique had it
really rough since his Dad died.”

“His Dad died?” I balk.

“Yes, unexpectedly. His mother wants to go home, back to
Portugal, to bury him there. She has absolutely no idea about the business, so Henrique
was pulled out of University to sort it, poor kid has spent months going
through the books, only to find that his father was on the brink of
bankruptcy.”