Something Beginning With Mistletoe (Something Borrowed Book 3) Page 4

She wanted to kiss him. Hot damn.

  Yes?’ Her voice sounded breathy and strange. High and frothy. She coughed and steadied her words. ‘Blake?’

  He smiled, slow and undeniably sexy. ‘Tea. White. No sugar.’

  Chapter 3

  While Faith made the tea Blake took a minute to have a metaphoric cold shower by listing all the reasons why he should never have come up here:

  Don’t get involved.

  Business to run.

  Brother to sort out.

  Remember Stacey.

  How could he forget? Hard to forget finding all your possessions on the front lawn and a different car in the driveway when you got back from a business trip. Hard to forget the shouting. The crunch of bone on bone.

  So he’d do well to keep away from anyone who gave him even the slightest flicker of interest.

  He didn’t normally go gooey over women, but he did struggle with one who was so determined not to cry she almost bit her bottom lip off.

  And touching her arm? Twice? What the hell had that been about? He hardly knew Faith and his first impression had been to steer well away. She was audacious and rude. But now—well, now he knew she was brave too, and that coloured things very differently. So differently that he’d almost…well, definitely thought about kissing her. What man in his right mind wouldn’t? She was seriously hot. Not tall. Not short. Just about average.

  And yet there was nothing about Faith that was average. From her crazy spiked hair to her chameleon blue-green eyes, her gorgeous body and seriously sexy smile, to her determination to keep on going despite the obvious need to just admit the hurt. Admit she missed her grandfather. Give herself a break.

  There was an edge to her and yet a softness too. A vulnerability she fought hard to keep under wraps. And her mouth—although pouty and vehement at times—was the perfect shape for kissing. Which would have been a very bad idea.

  ‘Should we take these downstairs?’ She’d arrived back with mugs of steaming tea and plated chocolate biscuits on a tray. She gave him a half smile. ‘Should have just used the Zip tap down there.’

  Yes. Downstairs would be safer territory. He reached across and tried to take the tray from her. ‘Here, let me take it.’

  ‘Thanks.’ Her eyes narrowed, the aquamarine changing to a darker blue. ‘But I can manage just fine.’

  She seemed a little more cautious now. Maybe he’d misread the buzz between them. Good. ‘I know you can. But my Aunt Annabelle would cast me out of the Delacourte family if she knew I’d let someone do something when I could have helped.’

  ‘Aunt Annabelle? Oh yes, I remember.’ She followed him down the narrow carpeted stairs into the quiet, bright lounge. It was a typical London local pub, cosy and friendly, with mirrors etched with adverts for beer from another era hanging behind the bar. Tasteful pictures of pen and ink drawings of the pub over the years adorned the walls. The place had been recently painted, he noticed, and there was a new-looking carpet and smart upholstered chairs. The serving bar itself was a rich, dark wood that had been lovingly kept shiny and scrubbed clean. The air smelt of hops and winter, and of Faith. Yes. Underlying the familiar pub scent was a fresh smell of something flowery, but not too sweet. He’d smelt it upstairs too. Delicate. Feminine. Addictive.

  And…he was going crazy if he was thinking like that.

  She indicated to him to take a seat by the window. ‘Yes, Aunt Annabelle. Jenna delivered flowers to her, and you came in to thank her while I was there. I was rude to you. Very rude. I’m sorry.’

  ‘Wow. I never thought I’d hear that from you.’ He laughed, the tension between them dissipating a little. He put his hand to his heart. ‘But it’s too late now. I’m damaged forever.’

  ‘Poor baby. Like I said, I’d had a bad morning. I should have introduced myself to you and welcomed you to the area, like proper neighbours do. Gramps would have blown a fuse if he’d seen the way I acted. How can I ever make it up to you?’

  So many ways sprang to mind. So many ways that involved her mouth, her hands. He tried to shake away the thought of how she might taste. ‘That nice cup of tea will suffice.’

  ‘That I can manage.’ She pushed a mug towards him. ‘So she’s on Holland Park Avenue? The posh bit.’

  Posh? He didn’t like to think he was any different to anyone else, but he was well aware of the advantages he’d had compared to many. He’d been lucky, at least for the first fifteen years of his life. ‘Not that posh really. I grew up there.’

  ‘Oh, trust me. Compared to living above a pub it’s very posh,’ she teased, her eyes sparking.

  ‘And now I live above one too.’

  ‘In your penthouse apartment.’ She looked out of the window across the road to his new place. Hardly penthouse. Okay, so it was possibly twice the size of hers. Maybe three times, if he was honest. But none of that was important to him. He’d gladly give up all his inheritance to have one more hour with his parents. He guessed she’d understand.

  She smiled. ‘Funny, you’ve been just around the corner all these years. We could have passed each other a million times or sat next to each other on the Tube or the bus.’

  If he’d passed her he’d have remembered. The hair if nothing else. Or the eyes. Yes, the eyes. ‘I’ve been away a lot of my life. School. University. On business. Until recently, when I bought the butcher’s shop and decided to put down roots.’ Again.

  ‘Wow. Lucky. Apart from the first nine years, when I was in Shepherd’s Bush, and a few weeks here and there in Spain I’ve pretty much spent my whole life here on this road.’

  ‘Not so lucky when you’re at a boarding school you hate, believe me. But yes, I’ve done a fair bit of traveling the world with holidays and business trips.’ Until he’d discovered they’d been an excuse for his ex-wife’s infidelity. He took a sip from the mug in front of him. ‘You make good tea.’

  A proud smile tugged at her mouth. ‘I know. Gramps always said making a decent cup of tea was the measure of a good person.’

  ‘Good job he didn’t meet me then. I make terrible tea. Coffee, on the other hand, I excel at.’

  ‘Bleurgh. Hate the stuff. I don’t get the hype.’ She breathed what could only be described as a sigh of relief. ‘Boarding school, business trips overseas, coffee, gin bars—we come from completely different worlds, Blake. Nothing in common at all.’

  No. But there was always that ‘opposites attract’ thing.

  His phone buzzed. Thank God, a distraction. He checked the screen.

  Brad? His brother never phoned during the day. His gut twisted. What now?

  ‘Sorry, I’ve got to take this.’ He stood and walked away a little, all the better not to air his personal life in public. ‘Brad?’

  His brother’s voice was fractured and his words rushed. ‘It’s Freddie. He’s in hospital. It’s bad.’

  ‘Freddie?’ The little kid who’d never stop wriggling. Blake’s gut tightened into a hard knot. ‘What happened?’

  ‘We went to the park after school. He fell and cut his wrist…split his artery open on a rusty old bit of metal. Didn’t see it. Covered in snow. Shit, Blake. I’m scared. And I can’t get hold of Stella. Of course it’ll be all my fault.’

  Blake felt as if the blood was draining out of him too. ‘Slow down, mate. Take a breath. It doesn’t matter what Stella thinks, Freddie’s the most important thing.’

  ‘Yes. Yes. And someone needs to pick Daisy up from school. She’s staying late to practice the nativity show. I’ve got to stay here for when he comes out of surgery.’

  ‘Is he…is he going to be okay?’ He hardly dared ask.

  An agonising pause. ‘I don’t know. He’s lost a lot of blood.’

  Damn. Damn. Blake closed his eyes against the onslaught of his imagination. ‘I’m coming now. Which hospital?’

  ‘Paddington. ER, but going up to the children’s ward after theatre. I’ll text with more details. Can you collect Daisy, then come?’

  ‘Right. Yes.’
Blake flicked the phone into his pocket. ‘Shit.’

  Faith was watching him as he walked back towards her. She stood up, her eyes filled with concern. ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘There’s been an accident. I’ve got to go.’

  ‘Oh.’ Her eyes grew wide as arms drew tight across her chest. ‘Of course you do. Wait here, I’ll get my coat.’

  ‘Why?’ Although he couldn’t help thinking she’d make things feel a whole lot better.

  ‘I’m coming with you.’

  ‘No.’ She didn’t need to see the chaos of his private life. He’d let one woman in before and it had almost destroyed him. He wasn’t going there again. ‘Stay here, Faith. You just said you can’t gallivant. You need to run your pub.’

  ‘You look terrible. There’s no way I’m letting you drive there on your own. I’ll ask Geri if she doesn’t mind hanging on for a bit.’ She shook her head as if he had the most ridiculous ideas, then dashed behind the bar and spoke to the woman who was wiping glasses. Then she ran back to him carrying a bag and a coat with a fur-lined hood. ‘Sorted. Jordan’s due in at five, so she won’t be on her own for long.’

  This was beyond duty. He didn’t know if he’d drop everything to help someone he’d only just met. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Of course.’ She slipped her hand into his and the warmth surprised and infused him. ‘It’s what friends do, right?’

  ***

  So they were friends now. That was a surprise. Faith slid into the luxurious leather passenger seat of his car. The dashboard looked like something from the Starship Enterprise. Very different to her little VW Beetle that elicited strange noises she was trying to avoid investigating. ‘Where to?’

  ‘To pick up Daisy.’

  ‘Yes, okay. And what about Freddie?’ Daisy. Freddie. Brad. She silently repeated the names she’d heard him say so she could brand them onto her brain. Nothing worse than forgetting someone’s name. She knew that too well.

  His knuckles were white as he gripped the steering wheel. ‘We’ll take her straight to the hospital. They’ll all want to be together.’

  Okay.’ She put her hand on his. Partly to offer him comfort, partly to get him to slow down on the wet, wintry roads. ‘It’ll be okay.’

  ‘I bloody well hope so.’ He swung the car into the left lane, to a cacophony of angry horns. ‘Does nobody care that we have an emergency?’

  We. Presumptuous to think he was referring to her. ‘Just one question.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘Who are Brad and Freddie and Daisy?’

  His back had stiffened. The wall was up again. But he did exhale. It looked as if he’d been holding everything in since that phone call. ‘Ah. Yes. My brother and his two kids. Freddie is five and still a baby, really. Daisy is seven going on seventeen.’

  There was no mention of another female’s name. ‘Their mother?’

  ‘She lives in Harrow with her new man. Brad’s been trying to get hold of her but she’s not answering. They’re away. Somewhere. Not in the country.’

  Right. So this was a family thing. Maybe she was intruding. She’d just jumped in to help without thinking. ‘Look, if it’s not appropriate for me to come, just say. You can drop me off here and I’ll get a cab back to the pub. I have a tendency to act first and think later.’

  ‘I’ve noticed.’ His lips twitched, just a little. Almost a smile. Then he sat back further into his seat. ‘It’s fine, Faith. Honestly. Just don’t expect it to be all sunshine and smiles.’

  ‘Trust me, I know all about what families can do to each other.’

  He glanced over to her. ‘Then I’m sorry you had to go through that.’ A red traffic light. He hit the steering wheel. ‘Come on. Hurry up.’

  The cars moved unbearably slowly as the snow started to fall in thick flakes. London in winter could be picturesque and magical. It could also be a pain of slush and cold and standstill traffic. They turned a corner. Two. Drove down a familiar street and Faith held her breath. Please no. Not here.

  St Brendan’s Primary. Of course it would be. Of all the schools in London, it had to be this one.

  She felt the hot sting of shame as they pulled up outside the red brick building. It had been eleven years since she’d stood in that playground and heard the jeering voices chanting her name, but she felt it just as keenly now. Of all the schools in the area, it had to be this one.

  Of course Blake had no reason to perceive her shame. He pulled into a parking space and turned off the engine. ‘Now all I have to do is find the school hall. Apparently she’s in there. The teacher won’t let her outside until I get there.’

  ‘Just go through the main doors and it’s at the end of the corridor on the right-hand side. I assume it’s still in the same place.’

  His eyes widened. ‘You know this school?’

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I came here for a few years. Before I moved in with Gramps and started at Portobello Primary.’

  ‘Oh, coincidence. You want to come in?’

  ‘No.’ Never again. She’d be surprised if there wasn’t a ‘Wanted’ poster up there with her mother’s picture on it. Marriage wrecker. Heartbreaker. ‘I’ll wait here with the engine running so we can dash straight off.’

  As he looked at her, he frowned. ‘You okay?’

  The last thing she needed was for him to think she had issues every five minutes. Just weird that the two things that kept her awake at night also happened to be the two things he’d been involved with today. Gramps plus her mother equalled spectacularly bad Christmases. ‘Hey, sure. I’m fine. You’re the one who needs the cheerleading. Scoot. Go get Daisy.’

  ‘Okay. You stay in charge of the getaway car.’

  He reappeared in minutes leading a little girl by the hand. Dressed in the all too familiar brown and yellow uniform, she had her hair in lopsided pigtails and gaps in her top front teeth.

  Faith smiled as the little girl slid into the back seat. ‘Hi Daisy, I’m Faith. How was school?’

  ‘Okay, thank you.’ Nice manners. Just like her uncle. Same mid-brown eyes.

  ‘Hey Daisy, Faith used to go to your school.’

  Faith prayed for the earth to open up, as she had done on that last day in the playground. The one she was looking at right now as Blake reversed from the car park. ‘It was a long time ago. Things will have changed.’

  The head teacher, for one.

  Daisy piped up, ‘Did you have Mrs Young for your teacher in class four?’

  Faith shook off the memories. They couldn’t hurt her any more. She’d stopped letting them years ago. But strange to have it all brought up again today. ‘Mrs Young? Er…no, I don’t think so. I can’t remember any of the names.’

  She could. But she wasn’t going there.

  ‘I like Mrs Bannon the best. She lets us have extra long playtimes if we’re good.’ Luckily Faith didn’t have to fill any long gaps in the conversation. The little girl had it covered. ‘Blakey says you’re coming with us to the hospital.’

  Faith turned to look at Blake. ‘Blakey?’

  He grinned, more relaxed now he’d done the first part of his mercy mission. ‘The young generation of today has no respect.’

  ‘Yes, we do.’ Daisy’s fingers fiddled with the handles on her school backpack. ‘Did all Freddie’s blood run out of his body?’

  ‘Whoa. No. He’s cut himself and needs stitching up. That’s all.’ Blake looked at Daisy through the rear mirror. ‘Don’t worry, sweet pea. He’ll be back to normal soon.’

  Well, wow, this was yet another side Faith was seeing of him. He was actually a nice guy with a warm heart.

  After an interminably slow drive they arrived at Paddington Hospital, parked and found the children’s wards.

  Loops and loops of bright red tinsel hung from the ceiling amid a mass of silvery stars and snowflakes. It was Faith’s worst nightmare. Her steps faltered as she walked in, her initial instinct to turn and walk back out again, but this wasn’t about her. She foll
owed Blake’s rushed steps to the large desk in the centre of the ward and then onwards to a side room.

  As they walked in she caught her breath. There, standing in the space where a bed should have been was…Blake. Blake version two. If Blake had had a sleepless night, borrowed clothes from someone who was two sizes larger and was just a little diminished.

  The Blake she’d walked in with introduced her. ‘Faith, this is Brad. My twin.’

  ‘No kidding? So there’s two of you? Could be trouble.’

  Even though they were identical she would have picked Blake out of an identity parade any day. He held himself differently to his brother; he stood taller, his chin jutting a little higher. And there was something different about the eyes. Apart from Blake’s being that crazy mix of caramel hues and Brad’s looking like an ordinary brown, Blake’s glasses were tortoiseshell and the trendy round style she’d seen in the local optometrist. Brad’s were black-rimmed.

  Even so. It was hard enough breathing sufficiently with one around, never mind two.

  After a hug with his daughter Brad brought them up to date. ‘He’s in surgery right now. They said he may need a blood transfusion. He was so pale. I thought—’

  ‘Freddie’s dad?’ A nurse bustled towards them, then did a double take at the two men.

  Brad stepped forward. ‘Yes?’

  ‘He’s in recovery. He’ll be back on the ward soon.’

  ‘Is he okay?’ Brad looked as if all the blood had been drained from his face.

  She nodded, no smile but the epitome of smooth efficiency. ‘He’s going to be fine. A little sore and he’s going to need time to heal. He needs peace and quiet, which I know is hard for a five-year-old to understand. The surgeon will come and talk to you when he can. Freddie’s had some units of blood and is on antibiotics to prevent infection, but we need to know if his tetanus is up to date?’

  Brad’s hollowed-out features were all shadows and lines. ‘I don’t know. My wife…ex…their mother did all of that.’

  Blake frowned, shaking his head at Brad. ‘Isn’t it documented somewhere? Don’t you have it written down?’