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

‘It doesn’t have to be. If you’d let me come in with you as a partner. Or let me buy the place and employ you.’ Instead of just planning to buy all the stock under the guise of his gin bar.

  ‘I’m so sick of this, Blake. You always think you’re better than me.’

  ‘I’m just trying to help.’

  I’ve got to stand on my own two feet,’ his brother snapped.

  Blake tried to reign in his temper. ‘Well, the offer stands regardless. At least bring them over Christmas Eve and we can do stockings and leave something for Father Christmas. I’m sure we could muddle through cooking a lunch. We could get Aunt Annabelle over too.’

  A sneer at that suggestion. ‘And have her glowering at me because I’m a big fat failure? No thanks. I’m trying here, man.’

  ‘I know you are. But think about it, okay? Brad?’ But his brother had already gone.

  Blake rubbed his chest. A pain lodged there every time he spoke to Brad. Maybe he should bring the kids along to the nursery Christmas party. Give those two an extra treat.

  The party. He huffed out a breath. Another thing to add to his overflowing to-do list.

  He glanced out of the window into the darkness and watched the twinkling of the soft yellow lights in The Duke pub across the road. His mind darted straight to Faith Langley as easily as if it had been hankering to get back there all along. There was something about her that had piqued his interest. Generally he didn’t allow that to happen, but why the hell wouldn’t someone like Christmas?

  Alarm bells were ringing off the scale in his head. Don’t get involved. Don’t get involved.

  What with his brother’s family and their financial woes, and getting this place off the ground, Blake didn’t have time to be thinking about the mysterious, gregarious Faith.

  And he’d heard that kind of alarm before. This time he was going to listen.

  ***

  Faith was clearing up after a late lunch rush the next day when Blake walked in. Ugh. Today he was dressed in a casual grey sweater and jeans, under an unbuttoned winter coat, and his hair was all freshly mussed-up. She wondered how long it took him to make it look as if he’d just got out of bed. Little wisps of the first snowfall this winter covered his shoulders.

  Embarrassment still lingered, along with irritation that she not only couldn’t avoid him, but had to actually work with him. She curbed her initial instinct to duck under the counter and pretend she wasn’t there and, instead put on her best professional face. ‘Good afternoon, Blake.’

  ‘Got a minute or two to work out what we’re going to do for the party? That is, now you’re working with the enemy.’

  She could have sworn he almost smiled then. But no. His mouth was a taut straight line. Must have been a trick of the light. ‘I hope you have a plan, because I’m all out of ideas.’

  ‘It’s just a Christmas party, Faith. Not that hard really.’ He looked around the bar. ‘It’s almost the middle of December and you still haven’t got your decorations up yet. What’s the deal?’

  She feigned nonchalance, because why should she have to explain it to him? ‘I just haven’t got around to it.’

  ‘When everyone starts putting them up in October? You’ve avoided the pressure this long? I admire your resolve.’

  ‘Yes, well, I’ve been busy.’ She waved a dishcloth at him as proof that she still was, and could he please leave?

  But he was undeterred. ‘I was hoping we could go through what you have and suss out what more we need. I presume you have some?’

  ‘Yes. Upstairs in the flat.’ Locked away.

  ‘You want to show me? Or bring them down? We can go through them together.’

  No. Not at all. The weight on her shoulders grew heavier. ‘I guess so. Hang on a minute, I’ll get Geri to come through and take over.’ She took a moment to inhale deeply, and again, to calm her nerves before getting Geri out of the kitchen. At some point she was going to have to do the decorations thing, she couldn’t avoid it forever. But…one more year couldn’t have hurt, surely?

  When she got back she found him leafing through her bar menu. ‘Ahem. Hungry?’

  He snapped the menu closed. ‘Just looking.’

  ‘Aha. Caught in the act. Checking out the opposition?’

  ‘You got me.’ He smiled, that dimple doing double duty to her tummy and…well…lower. Hello? So inappropriate. He’d just admitted he was the enemy. She tried to ignore the tingles that smile had elicited as he raised his hands in surrender. ‘Guilty as charged. You’ve got some good stuff on here.’

  ‘I know. Geri and I have worked hard at getting value plus quality and something a little different.’ She nodded towards Geri, who was making he’s hot eyes at Blake’s back.

  Faith tried not to laugh. Geri was old enough to be his mother. But now she’d brought the subject up, Faith did have to admit he was looking passable today. Must have been the soft pub lighting. ‘So if I find Vietnamese chicken tulips with ginger caramel, lime leaf and chilli on your menu I’ll ask for commission for every one ordered.’

  ‘You would too. You’ve got the balls for it.’

  ‘I’ve been running this pub for a long time. You don’t need balls in this game. You need a damned good sense of humour and nerves of steel.’

  ‘You have plenty of both, so I’m learning.’ He laughed, and suddenly his whole face was transformed. His lips tipped up into an open-mouthed smile that not only reached his eyes but turned them from warm caramel to maple syrup. Gone was the uptight businessman and in his place was someone carefree, someone unguarded.

  Yes, that was it. He was guarded most of the time. Why?

  Just like Jenna, his laugh was infectious and Faith felt a chuckle bubble up from her throat, as if something had shaken free in her chest. How long had it been since she’d truly relaxed? She couldn’t remember. ‘Right, you’d better come up and see the sad state of affairs that is my Christmas box.’

  ‘Intriguing.’ His eyes flashed hot gold. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘You haven’t seen it yet.’ What the hell? Was this her feeble attempt at flirting? And with him? What? Since when did she do that?

  She hadn’t so much as kissed a guy in years. She’d wanted to, on occasion. Wished she had someone she could fall asleep with, wake up with…more than she wanted to admit. Wanted a slice of that happy vibe that Jenna had.

  But she knew enough about relationships that once you’d passed your sell-by date you were exchanged for a newer model. It was easier not to get involved in the first place than face that kind of humiliation.

  But the way Blake Delacourte said her name made her heart flutter.

  No. It had no right fluttering. She led him through to the upstairs landing and opened her large store cupboard. The box was behind a pile of sheets. She’d hidden it at the back so she didn’t have to keep looking at it. She hesitated, not wanting to touch it.

  ‘I…er…well, the box is in here. There isn’t much, to be honest.’ There had been, but she’d thrown most of it away in a fit of sadness.

  Blake frowned. ‘Do you want me to lift it out?’

  Her courage was failing her. Images flashed through her brain. The smashed baubles. The toppled-over tree. Her throat filled. ‘No. Um. Maybe we shouldn’t…I mean, maybe we should just hold the party somewhere else.’

  He took a step back. ‘You okay?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ But she noticed him looking at her hands and realised they were shaking. She made tight fists and then wiggled her fingers to let the tension out.

  For God’s sake, Faith, they’re only decorations.

  But they’d been Gramps’ decorations and she’d loved to put them up with him. She took a big breath. She had to face it all some time. And there was something about Blake’s manner that made her feel it’d be okay to do this with him. A stranger who she just couldn’t break down in front of.

  Besides, she had no choice. The whole neighbourhood knew she was hosting the party now, so she couldn’t back out
. ‘Right. Yes. That box there.’

  ‘We can do it another time if you want.’ As he looked at her she could see he was weighing her up, trying to work out what was wrong. Was he that astute at reading her? Or was she wearing her heart through her actions as well as her words now?

  She pressed her lips together and took control of her hands and her breathing and her jittering nerves.

  ‘No. Now’s as good a time as any.’ She shoved the sheets to one side and dragged out the box. Putting it on the carpet, she knelt down and took another deep breath. There wasn’t enough air in here.

  ‘This is hard for you.’ His voice was quiet and soft.

  Harder than she’d imagined. ‘These belonged to my granddad. It’s…nothing. Sorry.’ She opened the lid and a Pandora’s box of memories sprang free. Some happy, some painfully sad. His rumbling laugh. Her tears. Waiting. Hoping. Praying. She locked them back in a corner of her brain. Not now. ‘Okay, so we have some scraps of tinsel. Some baubles from the Dark Ages…but I love them. And…’

  She tugged out a bright glass bauble from the spider’s web of tinsel. Rudolph and Santa Claus and snow. Faith 1996 in glittery italics. Her first Christmas here. The first time she’d learnt that love wasn’t everlasting. The first time Gramps had fed her turkey and all the trimmings and wiped her tears.

  She blinked fresh ones away. Wow. Not in front of Blake.

  He took the bauble from her hand and put it back into the box. ‘Okay. Well, it’s a start anyway. Maybe you might want to keep these up here on a smaller tree so they don’t get broken by stomping toddlers or drunk punters. Actually, what about a tree? Real? Or is there an artificial one in one of these cupboards too?’

  ‘Gramps always did real.’ Geez, she sounded like such a wimp. She cleared her throat. ‘I can get one from the market. Yes. That’s what I’ll do. Chloe said the other day that Peter’s got some lovely ones on his stall.’

  ‘How long?’

  Surely he meant how high? ‘About eight feet I guess.’ She looked up at the Victorian-era high ceilings. Maybe more. I just need to make sure I have a ladder big enough to reach the corners.’

  ‘I have one. Actually, I have about ten across the road. I’ll bring one over.’ He knelt down beside her and looked directly at her. ‘I meant, how long since he died?’

  There was no avoiding his gaze. ‘Two years on Boxing Day.’

  ‘That’s tough. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Oh, you know…’ Her words trailed off. She didn’t want to say it was okay, because it wasn’t. Opening this box with Blake here was like opening up a vein and bleeding in front of him. She couldn’t do that. She was loud and brash and sometimes spoke before she’d properly organised her thoughts, but sharing the innermost truth of what she was feeling was hard.

  But his hand was on her arm and he was giving her a sad smile that was all kinds of comforting. And made her body heat again. So, Mr Bigshot was human after all. And with a serious gift for empathy she hadn’t expected. She’d pegged him as a hard-nosed, cold businessman, but that was not who was here right now.

  She forced words out through a lump in her throat. ‘So, anyway. Yes. As you can see we’ve got some serious organising to do. Decorations aplenty. Jenna gave me that list, but it was a bit paltry, to be honest. So, food…we can adapt something from the kids’ menu. Add cake or a kiddie version of Christmas pudding. Oh, yes, Christmas pudding ice-cream. They’d like that. Or just vanilla, because lots of them might not like all that dried fruit. And songs. We need all that Rudolph and Santa stuff. We need to go all out for these kids.’

  ‘I understand, Faith.’

  He had the kind of smile that was going to make her break down if she wasn’t careful. ‘You do?’ She bit her lip to stop it from wobbling. Hot damn, crying would be very inconvenient. Especially in front of him. The enemy.

  He nodded. ‘I lost my parents when I was fifteen. It takes a long time to get over it.’

  Wow. She really had misjudged him as being someone who’d never had a hard day in his life. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that, Blake. Fifteen? Geez. That’s tough. I’m thirty and struggling. What happened?’

  ‘Car crash. They both died immediately. It was quick, at least.’ He lifted one shoulder in a sort-of shrug. A shrug that said he’d thought he’d got over it, but talking about it brought it all back to the surface. ‘But it certainly whips away that sense of security. Right? Changes your whole world.’

  Why did he have to be so understanding? ‘Most days I’m fine. If I could just skip December altogether I’d be even finer.’ Finer? What the hell? His hand was still on her arm. She looked down at it, then back at him.

  She wanted him to move it away. She wanted him to keep it there and put the other one on her too.

  She didn’t know what she wanted. This man was starting to seriously mess with her head. And she’d only known him two minutes.

  ‘Oh.’ He pulled his hand away. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  He blinked, his glasses making his eyes appear incredible. Large and kind and…

  ‘Right. Enough already.’ She took a breath. ‘Focus on the kids. So, let’s go big on the grotto. Whatever the heck that is.’

  ‘Yes. Let’s do them proud. Make up for all that work going up in flames.’

  ‘This seems really important to you.’ A thought occurred to her. ‘Oh. Do you have kids?’ A wife? It wasn’t important to know. But she was…curious. He had no wedding ring, but that didn’t mean a thing. A lot of men didn’t wear them. Plus, he’d had his hand on her arm.

  He shook his head. ‘No. No kids. No wife. No partner.’

  The way he said the word ‘wife’ gave her pause. It sounded soiled on his tongue and his face changed. Darkened somehow. A flicker of distaste in his features? Or was it hurt? A little of both. So, he’d been married. And now wasn’t. Interesting.

  None of her business.

  But his hand had been on her arm and she’d liked it there. And he was here in her flat, her heart was rattling along at warp speed just being near him, and his scent…his scent made her want to crawl closer and nuzzle against his neck. So it was entirely her business.

  Good God. No. She couldn’t allow herself to get carried away. ‘Okay. Right.’

  ‘You?’

  ‘What about me?’ She hated talking about herself or bringing attention her way. Unfortunately her mouth didn’t get that memo.

  ‘Wife? Partner? Kids?’

  ‘No. None of the above.’ Easy just to say it outright. In case…yes…as if he was remotely interested in her anyway. ‘I—I’m not into the whole relationship thing.’

  He nodded. ‘Things get messy.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, they can do.’ Was she that transparent? She looked away, not wanting to open herself up so much to him, but unable not to.

  ‘It wasn’t a question, Faith. It was a statement. Best not to get involved. Right?’

  ‘Yes. Exactly that.’ He understood. That was two things. Great. No pressure then, she didn’t have to explain anything. She breathed out, relieved, although curious as to what had happened to make the word ‘wife’ make his whole demeanour change. ‘Okay, so what now?’

  ‘Let’s make a list of everything we need to buy.’

  ‘Excellent idea. I’ll go grab a pen.’ Any excuse to put space between them. She shifted onto her knees, but stopped as he spoke.

  ‘No need. I can just add it to the notes app on my phone. Once it’s done we can go shopping.’ He brandished his flash smartphone at her. ‘Are you free later on today? The sooner we start the better.’

  ‘Oh. I don’t think…not today. I need to arrange cover. I can’t just gallivant off shopping.’ She couldn’t help laughing at the thought of being able to throw everything aside and play hooky. ‘I have a business to run, staff to sort out. We can’t all just do what we like when we like.’

  She didn’t know if he did that. He just gave the impression he could do what he wanted. Flash cars
and expensive suits usually meant you had minions. Faith had Geri and a couple of part-timers.

  ‘Sure, I know that. But I make a point of employing great managers. So let’s just plan now, then we can go tomorrow. Would that work? We don’t have long to get this sorted. How long does it take to make a grotto?’

  ‘You’re asking Scrooge. I have no idea.’ Proximity to him was making her feel off-balance. She scrambled to her knees. ‘Okay, great. Just write down decorations. Lots of every kind. Tree. Bunting…is it bunting? No, not bunting. What’s the name for that stuff you loop across the ceiling? That. Basically everything you want for a party. Hats. Paper plates and cups. Those blowy things that make a noise. Fake snow. Tons of it. Everything.’ She was rambling and she knew it, just to cover up for the weird feeling in her chest. In her whole body. The grief over Gramps was mixing with the unwanted tug towards a very unsuitable man. She needed an escape so she could pull herself together. ‘I’ll go pop the kettle on.’

  ‘Sure.’

  She was about to get up but his gaze held hers for one beat. Two. There was something in the way he was looking at her that made her chest constrict and her lungs feel as if they’d stopped working.

  He was very close here on the floor in her little apartment. It hadn’t felt like that at first, but now it felt so intimate. She could feel his breath on her neck, and she breathed in his lemon and spice scent. If she reached out she could put her palm on his chest.

  Why the hell was she even thinking about doing that?

  ‘Faith?’

  She shifted to get up, but again he touched her arm. Leaned a little closer. Her eyes shot to his mouth. That mouth. His lips parted. His head dipped closer.

  For a second she thought he was going to…don’t be stupid. He wouldn’t kiss you.

  Kiss? Hell. She wanted to kiss him. Him, of all people. Here. Now.

  The thought of that, of his touch on her skin, made her throat close over and her heart thrum. Heat suddenly infused every part of her, making her feel jittery and nervous. Her hands were trembling again, but for an altogether different reason now.