Free The Little Village Bakery: A feel good romantic comedy with plenty of cake (Honeybourne Book 1) by Tilly Tennant

frightening. He didn’t stare at her in the hungry way that most men did.
    ‘So, Spencer,’ Millie began as they stopped to down the cups of tea Ruth had carefully brought over on a tray. ‘You haven’t told me about yourself.’
    Spencer shrugged. ‘There’s not much to tell. I’m a teacher by day and a boring git by night.’
    ‘There must be more than that,’ Millie laughed. ‘What do you do to relax? You must have hobbies. Is there a Mrs Johns?’
    Dylan looked up sharply, but neither Millie nor Spencer seemed to notice.
    ‘No Mrs Johns. No prospective Mrs Johns. And before you ask, no Mr  Johns either.’
    ‘Not still pining after Lucy Pryce are you?’ Dylan asked. Millie couldn’t be sure, but there was something like a note of forced jollity in his voice.
    ‘No,’ Spencer replied quietly. ‘I don’t have time to pine after anyone these days.’
    ‘Me neither,’ Millie said briskly, suddenly aware of a tension in the room. ‘All work and no play makes Millicent Hopkin a very dull girl indeed.’
    ‘Oh, I’m sure you could never be dull,’ Dylan said cheerfully.
    And then, almost in the same instant, everything was back to normal. Had Millie imagined that sudden chill between Dylan and Spencer? It was as if the moment had never happened.
    Spencer looked at his watch. ‘We should get cleaned up; Jasmine will be at the pub soon.’

    J asmine and Rich were in the Dog and Hare, both with pint glasses in front of them half filled with bitter. If Millie hadn’t thought them to be the happiest, most perfect couple she had ever met, she could have sworn their body language betrayed an interrupted argument. Dylan didn’t seem to notice anything, however, and simply berated his sister as he, Spencer and Millie approached their table.
    ‘I thought you were detoxing?’
    Jasmine laughed. Whatever words she might have been having with Rich obviously hadn’t affected her too much. ‘I am. But you can’t come to the Dog without having a little taste of its finest, can you? I mean, it would offend Doug.’ As if to prove her point, she lifted her glass and took a long draught, placing it back on the table again with a satisfied smack of the lips.
    Millie threw her a slightly awestruck look. She had never met a woman who managed to look so pretty and womanly downing a pint of bitter before.
    ‘I’m beginning to think this detox of yours is a myth,’ Dylan replied, eyeing her up with a wry smile.
    ‘Me too,’ Rich said. ‘I bet she’s stuffing ice cream morning and night when I’m not there.’
    Jasmine gave him a playful slap.
    It was the first time Millie had been in the pub. It was just how she imagined a village pub should be: warm wooden panelling lined the room, hung with portraits of local dignitaries from days gone by along with watercolour landscapes; the bar area was shelved – row upon row of pewter and glass tankards sitting alongside various bottled spirits. The sun slanted in through sash windows, dust motes dancing in the beams of light like tiny galaxies. There was a rich, beefy smell, and Millie guessed that some sort of meat and ale pie was on the lunch menu. Her stomach growled as she suddenly realised how hungry she was.
    ‘I’m starving,’ Spencer said, voicing Millie’s thoughts, ‘how about we grab menus before we do anything else?’
    ‘That’s the best idea you’ve had today,’ Dylan said.

    W ith fragrant plates of hearty pub food in front of each of them, Jasmine called for the table’s attention.
    ‘Millie,’ she began, ‘I know that you’re going to say no to all of my suggestions. So let’s get it straight right now that I am not going to take a blind bit of notice of any refusal you make.’
    Rich cocked an eyebrow. ‘Trust me, she’s not lying, Millie – I’ve seen it in action.’
    Jasmine nudged him. ‘Oi!’
    ‘Just saying…’
    ‘He’s got a point,’ Dylan put in.
    ‘Shut up!’ Jasmine scolded. ‘I’m trying to chair a serious