The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) Read Free Page B

the not working that bothered her, or the fact that he could easily afford not to work after inheriting his half of their parents’ estate. He was choosing to live like some sad playboy whereas she and Rich had ploughed her half into their respective businesses and now had nothing to show for it apart from long hours to pay the mortgage and keep the kids in shoes.
    A familiar voice interrupted her musings and she turned to see Dylan coming up the path from behind her.
    ‘Bloody hell, is your bed on fire this morning?’ Jasmine called, shielding her eyes from the glare of the sun as she watched him approach.
    Dylan grinned. ‘If you must know, I was doing my charitable deed for the day.’
    ‘Now I know there’s something wrong with the world. What was this? Ade ran out of beer? Julian needed the number of a good dealer?’
    Dylan’s grin turned to a frown. ‘Alright, enough of that…’ he said, glancing around warily, despite the fact that the nearest house was too far away for anyone to hear their conversation. ‘I was across the road with Millie.’
    ‘That was quick work, even for you; she only moved in yesterday.’
    ‘It’s not like that,’ Dylan said as he rifled in his pocket for a key. ‘Are you coming in or have you just come to pass judgement on my social life?’
    ‘A bit of both. Rich said you phoned. And I wanted to ask you round for dinner.’
    ‘We have phones and emails and allsorts, you know, to save your legs.’ Dylan opened the door and Jasmine followed him into the cool, slate-tiled hallway.
    ‘I’ll go then if you’re going to be like that.’
    ‘Don’t take it so personally. I just meant that you’re taking time out of your work schedule just to see me.’
    ‘Well…’
    ‘I know. You promised Mum one day when you were having a deep and meaningful conversation that you’d always look out for me. It’s funny how she never had any of those conversations with me.’
    Jasmine frowned as they went into the kitchen and she noted the dishes piled up in the sink, a bluebottle doing lazy circuits of the topmost pot. There was a faintly worrying smell too, like meat that was just going off. Jasmine tried not to think about it and hoped it was coming from Dylan’s bin and not from his larder. By now, she knew better than to lecture him about his domestic affairs; he never listened and she always ended up sounding like a grade-A nag, something that went against her whole nature. Dylan, seemingly oblivious to Jasmine’s discomfort, headed for the fridge.
    ‘Want something cold?’ he asked as he yanked it open.
    ‘What have you got?’
    ‘You want beer?’
    ‘Dylan, it’s the middle of the day…’
    Dylan pulled his head from the fridge and grinned at his sister.
    ‘Very funny,’ Jasmine sighed. ‘So what have you got?’
    ‘Cola, cola, or cola.’
    ‘Nothing else?’
    ‘Um… flat cola…’
    ‘You know I don’t drink that crap.’
    ‘I didn’t know you were coming. And Threshers were clean out of wheatgrass-with-added-hippy-essence juice.’
    ‘Don’t you at least shop with the idea that you might get visitors, and that maybe you should have something for them when they call?’ Jasmine flopped down at the table and folded her arms. ‘A simple glass of orange juice would have sufficed.’
    ‘Cool kids don’t shop.’
    Jasmine tried to frown, but after a second or two, couldn’t help a small smile. Despite how frustrating he could be, there was something infectious about Dylan’s personality. Infuriatingly, he was cool; there was no other word for him. Everything he did, everything he said, was effortlessly charming and impressive. ‘So what were you doing across the way with Millie?’ she asked, changing the subject as Dylan sat opposite her and cracked open a Coke can.
    ‘Oh, this and that.’
    ‘Meaning?’
    ‘I was helping her move some boxes.’
    ‘You were actually helping someone do manual work?’
    ‘I’m not completely useless, you