Something Beginning With Mistletoe (Something Borrowed Book 3) Page 2

  Bigshot smiled and a little dimple twinkled in his left cheek. On another day, in another life, she might even have thought it interesting. But right now it just made the heat in her chest intensify to an all-over body rash.

  ‘Hey, whatever turns you on,’ he said wryly. ‘But just a quick sorry would suffice.’

  ‘No can do.’ Not a chance. No way. He was happy making her squirm in embarrassment and no man was worth that. Least of all someone who would probably swipe half her customers once that plastic wrapping was removed.

  She called everyone to sit down for a moment. ‘You can do your mingling in a minute. I’d just like to welcome the new members…’ She looked around and saw there was only the one. ‘Er, member. Mr Blake Delacourte. Blake, tell us a bit about yourself and your business.’

  He stood, pushing his glasses up his nose. ‘Blake Delacourte of Delacourte Holdings. Property development. Just adding the finishing touches to Ginspiration in the old butcher’s shop. It’s going to have a retro buzz, pretty casual. If you know of anyone looking for work I’ll have some vacancies when we open.’

  ‘When will that be, Blake?’ Anjini waved and smiled at him. ‘Glad you could make it.’

  He smiled back at her and Faith could have sworn Anjini fanned herself. Maybe…did she…flutter her eyelashes at him? Traitor. ‘There’s going to be a big New Year’s Eve launch party.’ He cast his eyes around the room. ‘Of course, you’re all invited. It’ll be a good one. I promise.’

  She had to hand it to him, he was a smooth operator with his dimple and smile and invitations to all and sundry. All of whom appeared to be nodding and smiling and murmuring things about fresh ideas and new blood and talent.

  ‘Okay, then.’ Faith raised her hand. ‘Thanks for the introduction, Blake. I’m sure you’ll find everyone around here friendly and helpful.’ She caught his amused gaze and swallowed hard. So, maybe most people were.

  His eyes were really something. And that dimple was…super annoying. ‘If you have any questions just ask away. Right, I think it’s time for some food and drink.’

  Jenna scraped her chair back and stood. ‘Oh. Wait. Just one more thing while we have everyone’s attention. It’s a biggie and I really hope the network can help out.’

  Faith sat and let her friend take the floor. ‘Sure thing, Jenna, shoot.’

  Jenna’s hands twisted into each other. ‘It’s just that, as you all know, Portobello Daycare had a major electrical fire that gutted the place last week, and has had to temporarily close. They’re on track to reopen after Christmas, but are looking for somewhere to hold their Christmas party. Any suggestions of anyone who can help?’ She looked round and grinned expectantly. ‘Please? Thirty preschoolers would be forever grateful for making their Christmas so special. Everything they’d been working on is gone.’

  Anjini smiled back. ‘When do they want to do it?’

  ‘Next week if possible. The magician’s booked for Saturday and they’ll lose money if they cancel, on top of everything else. It would be so great if I could tell them we’ve found somewhere.’ Her enthusiasm was infectious and Faith immediately felt a bit better.

  ‘How about the community centre?’

  Jenna shook her head. ‘Booked up every day, would you believe? As is the gym. And the primary school’s got nativity rehearsals then the show. Christmas is a busy time of year.’

  Unless you avoided it like the plague. Faith thought for a minute. ‘Saskia’s yoga studio? It’s nice and bright and big. She let us use it for Chloe and Vaughn’s wedding, so she’s open to hiring it out.’

  Jenna shook her head. ‘But upstairs. No disabled access.’

  Mr Bigshot shrugged. ‘I’d offer, but my place won’t be quite finished and I wouldn’t want little ones inside with bare walls and wires.’

  Of course he’d offer. Because he couldn’t follow through. Faith said nothing and silently prayed all the hopeful eyes would move swiftly past her and on to someone else. Yes, she could do a party. Of course she could. But she didn’t want to bring everyone’s mood down, so her plan was to just keep the place open for the waifs and strays who wanted a quiet haven away from the cheesy music and festive boisterousness. Santa Claus may have been coming to town, but Faith would make sure he wasn’t setting foot in her pub.

  ‘We need somewhere quite large.’ Jenna’s fingers drummed.

  Mrs Singh’s forehead lined as she thought. ‘The library? No. Not big enough.’

  Bigshot sat forward in his chair and perused Faith’s function room. Her heart went into hyperdrive. No. No. No.

  He looked at Faith. ‘What about here?’

  ‘No. Not here.’ Jenna shook her head. ‘No. No. Definitely not.’

  Faith breathed out. Thank God for friends.

  ‘Why not here?’ Bigshot again. That pain in her chest worsened. Indigestion. The man was giving her tummy ache just by being here. Designer hair. Designer smile. Designer suits. Designer gloat. Designer voice. Which was quite smooth actually. Deep and rich and assertive. She’d have bet that a lot of women would have been taken in by it. Not her. Obviously.

  He waved his arm out in front of him. ‘Look, there’s plenty of room. You could open the sliding doors and use the whole place, or keep this area closed. It’s easily suitable for children.’

  ‘Thank you for mansplaining how my pub works.’ It had been designed exactly for that reason.

  Would all those pleading eyes please stop staring at me?

  ‘Great idea,’ Anjini agreed. ‘Have it here, Faith. It’ll do you good.’

  Faith tried to indicate with a death stare to Mrs Singh to please be quiet. What would do her good would be for everyone to stop making suggestions about what would do her good.

  ‘I bet the kids were so disappointed. Imagine getting all hyped up about the party and then having it pulled. It’s almost as bad as cancelling Christmas altogether.’ Delacourte’s eyebrows rose in a dig and a dare to Faith.

  Gee thanks, Mr Bigshot.

  Faith knew all about Christmas being cancelled. About the excitement of presents and the promise of special family time and then the crippling hurt of disappointment. She was pretty sure Gramps had only been all in with the festivities because he wanted to make her happy and make up for the heartache.

  So the last thing she wanted was to haul out his decorations and hang them up. To bring in a tree and dress it. To play happy music when her heart was bent in two. But it looked like she had no choice. Either she offered up her space or they had to pay big money to hire somewhere, if they could even find another place at such short notice. Or the kids would finally find out who the real Grinch was—Faith Marie Langley.

  Talk about being stuck between a rock and a lorry-load of hard candy cane. If Gramps were here he’d do it in a heartbeat. He’d made Christmas special for her.

  She could do it for them.

  Couldn’t she?

  She found her voice, but it wavered a little. ‘Okay. Ahem. Yes. I’m pretty sure we could do it here.’

  ‘No, darling.’ Jenna shook her head. ‘It’s fine.’

  ‘Seriously. I’ll do it.’

  ‘Oh, Faith, that’s very kind. But are you sure? Really sure?’ Her friend clasped her hands, eyes bright, as if she’d been given the best gift ever. ‘I know how you feel about Christmas—’

  ‘It’s fine. It’s fine. Just email me the details—numbers and date, et cetera.’ She didn’t want the whole world to know how she felt. And in particular she didn’t want Mr Bigshot to have any idea at all, especially as he was looking at her with a strange expression, as if she were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

  ‘I’ve got a printout of what they need right here.’ Jenna’s hands went to her planner and she pulled out a piece of paper, which she handed over.

  ‘It’ll be a lot of work for just one person, though.’ Anjini looked concerned. Although she didn’t offer to help, Faith noticed.

  ‘Oh, the nursery staff will pitch in and do all t
he actual party stuff on the day. All you’d need to do is provide a space, chairs and that kind of thing, and just decorate the place up a bit.’ Jenna looked around at the very un-festive room. ‘They’d started to make a Santa’s grotto. You know what kids are like, the more glitter and bling the better. So carrying on that would be great. Another pair of hands is always good. Don’t you think, Mr Big—er—Delacourte?’

  Don’t you bloody well dare, Jenna Cassidy-Pearce. Jenna was famous for her matchmaking and general meddling-with-good-intentions. She’d set up her sister Chloe on a disastrous Love Plan to make her fall back in love with love again. Then, when Chloe had finally met her Mr Right, Jenna had planned a surprise wedding for them. She seemed to think everyone deserved a happy love life.

  She wasn’t getting her hands on Faith’s non-existent one. ‘I prefer to work alone.’

  Jenna was nothing if not determined. ‘But he was so enthusiastic and so sad he couldn’t offer his own place. Why don’t you work together? It’ll be such a fun project and if you source things locally you can help out the community and introduce Mr Delacourte to everyone along the way. Win–win, I say.’

  That depended on whose side you were on. Currently, Faith was looking as if she was losing out all round. But there was little she could do. She was stuck with being the Christmas fairy. ‘Honestly, I can manage a few decorations.’

  Anjini frowned. ‘Don’t be so stubborn, Faith Langley. Since when were you too proud to accept help? You need someone to hold the other end of the streamers when you’re hanging off a ladder. Mr Delacourte looks just about the perfect height. And weight.’ The frown turned lascivious as her eyes travelled down Blake’s body. For a second Faith almost felt sorry for him. ‘And—’

  ‘Thank you, Anjini. We get the message.’ Faith looked at him and shook her head. For God’s sake say no.

  ‘Okay, okay. It looks like you’ve got a partner in crime.’ His face was sour. Telepathy was clearly not his strong suit. ‘I look forward to working with you.’

  ‘Oh, yes. Me too.’ Like a hole in the head. Creating a Christmas grotto with Bigshot Delacourte for thirty small children in her terminally Christmas-allergic pub. What fun.

  Ho bloody ho.

  Chapter 2

  That hadn’t exactly gone to plan.

  Blake shoved his hands into his pockets, strode across Portobello Road and up to his apartment above the unfinished bar. He was supposed to go into the meeting, hand out his business cards and get to know some of the locals. Not become enemy number one to his nearest rival.

  Way to go, Blake.

  It wasn’t as if he wanted to impress her, but it would be good to have a better relationship with the neighbours than the last place he’d lived. He’d been right when he’d researched the area before he committed to the project. It was a quirky mix of born-and-bred locals with a strong, vibrant ethnic mix, some creatives and high flyers, and a mass of tourists who poured in and out every day. A great place for a gin palace, given the popularity of the liquor these days. A popular drink with a trendy vibe in a very cool place. What could go wrong?

  But a kids’ party? That was more his brother’s territory, not Blake’s. What the hell did he know about organising one of those? And with Faith Langley?

  What was her deal about Christmas? He’d seen the way something like fear had flashed across her blue eyes. No…not blue, not true blue anyway. A hint of green. More of a Nordic Sky really. Geez, he was thinking like a paint colour chart. Too much renovating and not enough playing.

  For a brief beat he wondered what Faith Langley played like. As fiery as her personality? Even her hair, with its short peroxide peaks, was kick-ass. There was a spark there, and he liked that. And she’d clearly got a heart because, despite her obvious reluctance, she’d still agreed to have the party.

  Admired, he berated himself. Not liked. The last thing he needed was to start liking a fiery woman. He’d lived through that nightmare once, he wasn’t going there again.

  But Faith was different to his ex…she had warmth and humour too. And just the right amount of curves…

  Shoot. He didn’t have time to think about that right now. Or ever. Life was too busy, too complicated, to start mooning over a woman who clearly mistrusted him.

  He flicked open his laptop and read the recent financial reports.

  Depressing.

  His phone rang, dragging his attention away from work too soon.

  Brad. His mood took another downturn as he picked up to speak to his brother. Should he mention the financials? Only if he wanted to send the conversation spiralling from the start. ‘Hey, Brad. Good to hear from you. How’s things?’

  Truth was, he knew how things were—bad. But as usual Brad put on his positive spin. ‘Getting there. It’s a journey, Blake and we’re just starting over again. Got to expect a few road bumps.’

  These were mountains that involved a messy divorce, an ill-advised business venture and two innocent children. Brad didn’t do things by halves. ‘You just need to say the word—’

  ‘I’ve got to do this on my own. Right?’ His brother was doing what he always did—avoiding the subject. ‘Hey, the ankle biters want to say goodnight so they made me phone you.’

  Blake’s heart gave a jerk as he heard squeals of Uncle Blake! Uncle Blake! Then a cheeky laugh. ‘Hello, Blakey.’

  He laughed too, because how could he not? His niece and nephew were the best things in his life. ‘Which one of the monster children is this?’

  A snort of giggles. ‘Daisy. I’m not a monster today. I’m a princess.’

  ‘Of course you are, darling.’ She should have been too, if Brad hadn’t made such dodgy investment decisions over and over and lost every penny of his inheritance, plus a whole load more. Seven-year-old Daisy could be living like a princess instead of in a shit-hole trailer park with broken glass for a garden and rusted swings in the communal playpark.

  And there was so much Blake could do to help, if only his brother would let him. But when it came to the Delacourte family the gift of stubbornness had been liberally handed out in vitro.

  So he was well matched with his twin’s intransigence, but it would only be a matter of time before one of them backed down. For the record, it wasn’t going to be Blake. ‘How’s school?’

  ‘Okaaay. Will you come to our nativity show? I’m playing Mary, Mother of Baby Cheeses.’

  ‘Oh. Wow, a starring role. Cool. Sure.’ He stifled a laugh, imagining her cradling a ripe brie platter. ‘It’s Jesus, honey.’

  ‘That’s what I said. And Freddie was a shepherd. But he wriggles too much and the teacher said he just has to be in the choir. The choir just sings, Blakey. It’s boring being in the choir. I think he might wriggle more there.’

  Ever the older child. He knew how that felt. He thought about serious little Freddie, who seemed to carry the world on his shoulders and had withdrawn into himself even more since his parents’ divorce. ‘Well, maybe you can show him how to sit still. Of course I’ll come, and we can get ice cream beforehand.’

  ‘Yay! Ice Cream! Ice cream!’ Daisy’s voice disappeared and all he could hear was background muttering, then, ‘Daddy says it might make us sick before our deview.’

  ‘Deview?’ He thought for a moment about what she could possibly mean. Then the penny dropped. ‘Debut?’

  ‘Yes. That’s what I said.’

  Blake laughed. ‘Okay then, we’ll have the ice cream afterwards. Tell Freddie he can have extra if he sits completely still for the whole performance. I can’t wait.’

  ‘Daddy says I have to say bye now.’

  ‘Okay, night night, sweetheart. Sleep well. Now, can I speak to Freddie?’

  ‘No. He’s shaking his head. He’s grumpy today. He wanted to go to the swings but Daddy wouldn’t let him.’

  I don’t blame him. That was one good decision his brother had made, at least. ‘Put Daddy on, sweetheart.’ More background noise—plates rattling, TV blaring with the sound of
rapid gunfire and shouting. Blake had no idea how to raise kids, so he bit back his irritation.

  His brother sounded breathless and frazzled. ‘Blake, I’ve got to go. You’ve no idea how hard it is trying to run a business with kids under your feet. I’m trying to do the bedtime routine thing.’

  ‘No word from Stella? She’s still not sharing custody?’

  ‘She can’t, apparently. It doesn’t quite fit with the lifestyle she’s setting up with Eric. They only have one spare room and it’s too small for two beds.’ Brad’s voice lowered out of children’s hearing range. ‘But fine for a cot. Go figure. She’s pregnant. To that loser. And now they’re on a mini-break in Prague, without even thinking of taking our two. Can you imagine? I can’t tell the kids, it would break their hearts.’

  And Brad’s, by the sound of it. Blake felt the familiar sting of helplessness as he watched his brother’s life spiral out of control. ‘I was thinking. Maybe you should bring the kids over here for Christmas. I’ve got tons of room. Too much, in fact. They could spend Christmas Eve doing the kinds of things we did with Mum and Dad. Wake up to the magic and all that. In fact, you could all come and stay long term, until you find somewhere more…suitable to live.’

  Geez, he hated sounding so judgemental, but he hated those little kids living like that even more. He’d have gladly swapped places if he could have, and lived in the damned caravan, but little brother wouldn’t hear of that.

  ‘There you go again.’ Brad’s voice turned sullen and just like that they were back to being teenagers and arguing at every turn.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Insinuating I can’t do it properly. This caravan is only temporary until the distillery takes off. Then I’ll be bringing in enough to pay rent on a house. I just need to get a few contacts, buyers. It’s tough trying to fit sales meetings around school times.’