Something Beginning With Mistletoe (Something Borrowed Book 3) Read online

  ‘Jenna! Please. You’re killing me here.’ This wasn’t what happened to her. She didn’t talk about her sex life, largely because she didn’t have one. She didn’t kiss and tell. She didn’t spend her life thinking about thighs or how a man tasted. Or the way her heart swelled just looking at him, as if she’d found the one thing she didn’t know she’d been looking for.

  That other Faith, the one who randomly kissed beautiful men and pressed against them wanting sex against the wall, had a lot to answer for.

  ‘Another pint, please.’ Patrick’s white, whiskery eyebrows peaked as he slid his glass over. ‘Are you wanting sexual relations, Faith? Only, I have a window in my calendar, I could fit you in at six fifteen if you like. As long as we’re done before Big Brother starts, you’re on.’

  Faith pressed her lips together to hold in the giggle. He was so not her type, or even her generation. Or even her mother’s generation, come to that. Although her mum didn’t seem to have much discrimination when it came to men. ‘I am not on, thank you. And you’ll be out the bloody window if you don’t watch it, Patty.’

  ‘Aye, well. I thought I’d offer. If you’ve got an itch—?’

  ‘Then I’ll see a doctor.’ She laughed. Luckily she knew he wasn’t being serious. ‘Thank you for your very…er…kind offer. But no.’

  He snorted. ‘Too bad. You don’t know what you’re missing.’

  ‘Yes, Patty. I’m afraid I do. And though it breaks my heart to say so, you’re just not my type.’

  Because that type had just left with a stepladder on his shoulder. She put a hand to her chest and made a very sad face towards her new suitor as if to say it’s all out of my control. As it all seemed to be.

  To which they all burst out laughing and the embarrassment faded a little.

  ‘See, you’re not rubbish at relationships.’ Jenna drained her glass. ‘Look at all the friends you have. And these regulars who come here because they like your company.’

  ‘They come because of Gramps.’

  ‘Sorry to break this to you, honey, but they could have left you any time in the last two years. There’s plenty of other drinking holes around here.’

  Faith cast her eyes across the road to the newest one. Ginspiration. ‘I know. All trying to do me out of business.’

  ‘Trying to make a living. Like you. Anyway, I like him. He’s smart and kind and God, he’s got good thighs.’

  ‘Oh. You noticed too?’

  Jenna just shrugged and smiled. ‘Hey, I love Nick to death but it doesn’t stop me appreciating beauty when I see it. Anyway, we were talking about your friends. Look at them. In here for you.’

  Patrick looked up, a frothy beer moustache framing his smile. ‘I come for the sexual relations.’

  Faith tutted and shook her damp cloth at him. ‘You come for the cheap Guinness, and don’t forget I haven’t raised the prices in two years in memory of my Gramps, but I could do that. Right now.’ She pointed at the till and scowled. ‘Don’t make me do it, Patrick McGinty. Enough with the sex talk, okay?’

  That seemed to quieten him down. ‘Sorry Faith,’ he mumbled into his glass.

  She winked. ‘You will be. Are we all okay now, gents?’

  The two old men gave her the thumbs-up. She thumbed-up back. She could have said spending time with these guys didn’t count as relationships, but they did. They’d all kept on coming and making sure she was okay and making her laugh. Giving her a reason to get up in the morning.

  ‘See? You run a bar, for God’s sake. If you hated people that much you’d be a hermit.’ Jenna looked up at the speaker again and shook her head. ‘Hang on, is that Happy Birthday? In French? No…what language is that?’

  ‘I have no idea. Blake made a playlist to make me feel better.’ And it had. Which gave her a sharp punch in her solar plexus. He wasn’t just doing things for her, he was making her feel things. Scary things, good things. Dangerous things. She’d been quite happy just feeling sorry for herself and now…she was feeling so much. Too much.

  Her friend rolled her eyes. ‘And it includes Croatian Happy Birthday. Geez, Faith, whatever turns you on.’

  She smiled to herself. Because even though she didn’t want it, she didn’t need it and definitely wasn’t going to act on it…it turned out, he most certainly did.

  ***

  So much for not getting involved.

  He was supposed to be preparing for the final council inspection, but here he was, in the middle of his unfinished bar, sawing bits of wood into a grotto shape. Not even thinking about the grotto, but about the Faith-shaped space in the centre of his chest.

  He was getting in too deep. He needed to focus his energies on other things. He needed to not think about her mouth—

  ‘Hey. Is it safe to come in?’ Through the flapping white plastic came Brad, carrying three holdalls; one in each hand and one on his shoulder.

  Blake nodded, unsure as to what the shaky feeling in his chest was now. For Faith? For Brad? For this damned grotto? ‘Sure thing. How’s Freddie?’

  ‘Happy now he’s being discharged. Can’t wait to get back here to be spoilt by Blakey.’ His brother stopped and glared at the wood shapes. ‘What the hell is that meant to be?’

  ‘It’s a grotto. I’m making it for a kids’ party. Go on up, the beds are all ready.’

  But Brad dropped the bags on the dusty floor and looked around, hands on hips. ‘Cool bar.’

  Praise? From his brother? Blake stood, stretched out his back and felt a punch of pride. Yes, it was pretty cool. The serving bar took the length of the back wall, backlit by a red glow. Above it was a series of huge, circular glass chandeliers linked together by glass chains. No bulbs in yet, but they were impressive pieces of work. On the dark wooden walls were side lights with tasselled green velvet shades. Red velvet banquettes ran along the two other walls, facing high-backed studded chairs on a very grimy but very expensive parquet floor. The wires had been all but hidden by the wooden panels and plasterboard. It all needed a damned good clean, but it was taking shape. Slowly.

  ‘I’m going for a nineteen-twenties vibe. You know, prohibition and all that. Would be a whole lot cooler if it was finished in time for the opening. I’m way behind schedule.’

  ‘Looks okay to me, just cosmetic stuff.’ Brad shrugged, eyebrows raised. He looked impressed which, for some reason, mattered to Blake. ‘I thought the big party was on New Year’s Eve?’

  ‘It is, but you know what it’s like, everyone will be clocking off for the holidays soon, so it has to be all ready before Christmas Eve. I’ve got the tilers in finishing off the bathrooms, then wallpaper to hang in the corridors and all the stock to unpack, staff to train, menus to finalise…things have turned to custard these past few days.’ Because his head wasn’t on this, it was somewhere across the road making playlists to make his business rival smile.

  Brad’s shoulders straightened and his jaw lifted. Defensive. ‘Look, if we’re going to be in the way, just say. We can go back to the caravan.’

  ‘Hey, no. I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not you. It’s just…never mind. It’s too hard to explain. You’re fine being here. Honestly.’ If he’d spent as much time sorting out his life as he did mooning over Faith and doing good deeds for the community, he’d be sorted. He had another wall of this grotto to shape, then it needed painting. ‘Pass me that saw will you?’

  Brad handed it over and then peered at the wood shapes. ‘Is that meant to be three sides of a house?’

  ‘Yes. It’s just staging, though, for a backdrop behind Father Christmas. Not a proper house.’

  ‘Why are you building a grotto when you have so much else to do?’

  Good question. Because Faith had needed help. Because one look at the panic on her face when it was decided she should hold the party in her pub and he’d melted like that damned ice cream Daisy loved so much. ‘One of the nurseries needed some decor for their party. Somehow I got involved.’ Story of his life.

  ‘
You’re a real pushover.’

  ‘Just helping, that’s all. Trying to make a good impression.’ On Faith? The fact she kept sliding into his brain made him think so. He’d never been so distracted by someone before. Never had to fight himself not to just walk across the road and make love to her. Never been so damned turned on by a kiss, a smile, even tears. He had it bad. He was hoping it’d wear off. The sooner the better. ‘Just trying to be friendly with the people round here.’

  Brad laughed. ‘After the last neighbours called the police on you, you need this new lot on side? Good plan.’

  ‘Yeah. That.’ Shuddering at the memory, he grabbed the tape measure and counted out the right number of centimetres. Drew a pencil line to follow then started to saw. The thought of the police and his ex gave him added energy to burn off. He edged the saw deep into a groove and pushed down hard. And again.

  But Brad held his hand up. ‘Whoa, whoa. Is that meant to be a rectangle?’

  ‘Yes, obviously. It’s one of the walls. Look, there’s a centre piece and then two side walls jutting forward, all held up with wooden struts at the back.’

  ‘It’s not straight. Here, pass the saw over.’

  Blake watched in awe as his brother took hold of the saw and sliced through the wood like a knife through butter, and straight, too. Had he even looked at the pencil mark? ‘You always were better at stuff like this than me. Give me a spreadsheet any day.’

  ‘Yes, well, I should never have gone to university, which I was useless at, but Aunt Annabelle wouldn’t take no for an answer. In your parents’ memory…it’s what they would have wanted.’ Brad ran his hand over his hair. ‘I like doing this kind of thing.’

  ‘You did a great job on the renovations of your old house.’

  ‘Yes, and I enjoyed it, too. Damn shame we had to sell up when we split. I could have helped you do this place up.’ He looked around. Nodded. Then started to check on the measurements of the other two pieces of wood, adding more quietly, ‘If you’d asked.’

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t.’ Somewhere along the line Blake had stopped talking to his brother about his work plans or asking for opinions or help, and started being the one to give them. Probably even when they weren’t wanted. It hadn’t occurred to him to ask his brother’s opinion on pretty much anything for years. Maybe he should have. ‘You were busy with the kids and the breakup. But I’m happy for all the help you can give me right now…if you’ve got the time. You’re good at this.’

  Brad’s head jerked up, and he looked at Blake. ‘Have you had a personality transplant or something?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Not like you to throw compliments around.’ Brad’s eyes narrowed. ‘She’s having a good effect on you.’

  ‘Who?’ But Blake knew exactly who his brother was referring to. His body prickled with heat at the thought of her.

  ‘The woman who came to the hospital. The one Daisy won’t shut up about. Faith loves Chew Chew ice cream. Faith helped me make snowballs. Faith loved my Christmas tree.’

  Blake hadn’t the heart to contradict him on that particular sentiment. But she had done a great job with his niece, that was for sure. And with him. Woken him up, shaken him up. ‘Ah, yes. Faith.’

  Little brother eyed him, but this time he really did look concerned. Interested. ‘So, is it serious?’

  Did he want it to be? One kiss, one almost kiss. Did he want more? If he was honest with himself, then yes. ‘No.’

  ‘Okay.’ Brad leaned against the bar and folded his arms. ‘So she’s…what? Friends with benefits?’

  ‘No, not that either. She’s just a friend.’ But there was chemistry there. A whole lot.

  ‘Sure. That always works. Isn’t that what happened with Stacey? Friends first. Benefits later. Then wedding bells.’

  Then an acrimonious divorce. The prickles turned prickly. And cold. ‘Faith and Stacey are worlds apart.’

  That brought a smile to Brad’s face. ‘Definitely serious.’

  ‘There is nothing going on between me and Faith.’ If he said it often enough he might actually believe it. Educate his body in not having that instinctive reaction every time he thought of her.

  ‘Nothing…yet.’

  Blake flicked a paint rag at his brother’s arm and laughed. ‘Shut it.’

  ‘Be honest. You like her.’

  If he couldn’t be honest with Brad then he couldn’t be honest with anyone. They had shared a womb, shared a bedroom, shared a zillion things that had kept them best friends for years. Until their parents’ car crash, when they’d gone off at tangents, dealing with their grief poles apart. The intervening years had been difficult but it was time to get things back on track. So he was honest. ‘Okay, yes. I do like her. I just don’t how it’s going to end.’

  Because it would. No doubt.

  But Brad wasn’t deterred. ‘Whoa, this is big. Look at your face. You completely change when you talk about her. Mate, I haven’t seen you like this in years. Are you going to do something about it?’

  ‘Um. Stacey? You were just reminding me about that particular error of judgement.’

  ‘So you had your trust smashed. I get that. But it shouldn’t put you off women for life. My darling cheating wife won’t put me off dating.’ Brad, often all talk and little action, paused. Thought. His face clouded. ‘At least, maybe at some point in the future. Obviously, I have the kids to deal with, and growing the distillery business. But you? You’re sorted. You have no excuses.’

  Blake shook his head. He had plenty. ‘I haven’t got time, for one.’

  ‘But you have time to build a grotto for people you don’t even know instead of having fun with a woman who clearly likes you or she wouldn’t have come to the hospital and played snowballs in the snow. Sure. Suit yourself. Don’t do a damned thing and miss your chance. But if you ask me you need your head reading, mate. She’s hot.’

  ‘Yes.’ Fact. She was gorgeous, and it wasn’t just the amazing body and the sexy smile. There was something about her that pulled her to him, as if he was meant to have her in his arms and in his life. But he didn’t believe in all that soulmate stuff.

  Trusting someone to like you for who you are and not what you had didn’t come easily. Sure, Faith wasn’t interested in his success or his money. But that didn’t mean he should throw himself into the deep end and open himself up to betrayal or hurt. He’d done that once. Gone all in. Put himself out there and had his heart stamped on.

  Brad put out his hand. ‘Pass me that paintbrush. I’ll do this side. Undercoat?’

  ‘Yes. Thanks.’ But this was good. Talking to his twin like a friend instead of the continual niggling and arguing they usually fell into whenever they spent more than five minutes together. He went behind the bar. ‘Beer with it? That is one thing I have managed to get sorted. I have cold beers in the fridge.’

  Brad grinned as he took a gulp. ‘At least you have some priorities sorted. There’s hope for you yet.’

  They worked along side each other companionably for a few more minutes. The first time in too long that neither of them had taken umbrage, or argued or snapped.

  His brother must have thought it too, because he put his brush down and breathed out. ‘Blake, what the hell happened to us? We used to be friends as well as brothers.’

  Blake paused. Talking about this always whipped the breath from his lungs. Made him feel as if he was suffocating. ‘The crash happened to us, Bradley.’

  It had stalled something in both of them. For Brad it was the ability to keep on one track, for Blake it was the ability to let go and relax. He’d become the one who fixed things, who cleared up messes, who took control. Although Brad perceived it as criticising and directing and bossing him around.

  Brad took a slug from his bottle. ‘It messed us up, that’s for sure. Messed me up for a long time. I just couldn’t ever seem to keep my ideas in order, you know? I ricocheted from one thing to another. I think I had some sort of grief ADHD or something.’
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br />   ‘You were thrown, Brad. Everything was going fine and then life changed completely. We’re on track now, though? Right?’

  What Blake really wanted to ask was, How d’you think the kids are coping? How is the business going? But he’d learnt too many times that Brad wasn’t willing to acknowledge his weaknesses. He was good at the hands-on stuff, not the spreadsheets. As brothers went they were two opposite sides of the same coin.

  ‘Sure. Things are going great. I’m divorced, I have debt I don’t even want to think about and I live in a caravan. Couldn’t be better.’ Uncharacteristically, Brad laughed at himself. ‘Still, here I am painting grottos for people I don’t know. I’m as crazy as you.’

  Blake tapped his beer against his twin’s bottle. ‘Welcome to the madhouse.’

  ‘Cheers. Look, if you have things to do I can finish this before I pick the kids up. Then I’ll keep them out of the way upstairs, or we could go to the park.’

  Thinking about Brad’s business niggled at Blake. How was he going to get ahead if he wasn’t focusing on it? ‘But what about the distillery? Shouldn’t you be there?’

  ‘It’s a small operation, Blake. It’s all in hand.’

  ‘But who’s out there doing the sales? Marketing?’

  Brad sighed. ‘I’m working on leads. It’s a tough time of year.’

  With all the stock orders he’d had to put through before opening, the extended hours, and the overtime he knew he’d be paying on New Year’s Eve and beyond, it would be Blake’s busiest period. ‘Pretty sure more people drink liquor this time of the year than any other.’

  He could see Brad’s shoulders start to rise. Alarm bells. ‘The gin is not ready yet.’

  ‘Then networking is key. You need to be walking the streets, visiting bars, talking to people, letting them taste the product. You must have some samples?’ Blake stopped. Just looking at his brother’s reddening face, he knew he’d overstepped.

  ‘You telling me my job now? I’ve taken the day off to move things here. Move the kids out of the van, like you told me to.’