by Sandy Barker
Lucy found herself smiling. She was once that awkward tubby girl, horridly embarrassed by her parents, and mortified just to be seen in public. Eleven was such a terrible age.
To her delight, the girl grinned back. And it was just the fuel Lucy needed to quell her unfounded fears, grab the handle of her case and stride into the terminal to catch her plane.
*
Lucy emerged from the double glass doors and scanned the crowd. She’d never seen so many people waiting for passengers before, and she’d just left Heathrow.
The sharp twang of American accents permeated the air and the final scene from Love, Actually played out around her. Hugs, tears, grins, slaps on the back. It was impossible not to feel moved by it all—and just a touch of melancholy.
Her first Christmas abroad and being an only child, it was easy to feel the sting of remorse for leaving her parents at this time of year. It had always been just the three of them, with their own family rituals and traditional ways of doing things. As she scanned hundreds of faces searching for Will, Jules’s baby brother, she wondered if she’d done the right thing.
There.
He stood a head above the people around him with a shock of dark blond hair, exactly the same shade as Jules’s until she’d started highlighting it.
And he was unbelievably handsome.
Lucy wasn’t friends with Will on Facebook, but she’d had a quick look at his profile before getting on the plane so she’d recognise him. In his photo, he was cute, boyish, a male version of Jules, but this Will! This Will was a man. A very hot, very tall man.
Lucy gulped, then raised her hand above her head to catch his eye. When she eventually did, after some rigorous waving and yoo-hooing, her knees nearly buckled. His eyes locked on hers and a grin spread across his face. He raised one hand in a greeting, then started making his way through the crowd to her. Lucy remained where she was and in moments, he was there looking down at her, the grin still intact. “Lucy?” he asked.
She nodded, gulped again, then finally found the ability to say, “Uh, yes. Hello,” which she followed up with, “Very nice to see you again.” Even when dumbstruck, which was more often than she liked, she tended to use her manners. Still, she wished she had something more eloquent to say.
“Yeah. For sure. So, you want me to take that?” he pointed to her case.
“Oh, yes please. Sorry, just a little discombobulated.” He seemed to like her choice of word and a smile danced in his eyes—his gorgeous, cobalt blue eyes.
“Oh, no problem. I’m always a little out of it when I fly too. Come on, let’s get outta here. This place is insane.” Lucy followed the blond hair and the man attached to it out of the terminal.
There was nothing that could have prepared her for the blast of cold that hit as soon as they walked through the automatic doors—not the boots or woollen coat or leather gloves she was wearing—not even a lifetime of living in the UK.
“Oh, my god,” she gasped.
Will looked over his shoulder and stopped. “You okay?” She stood, stock still, her hands flying to her face as the pain in her lungs intensified. “It’s the cold,” he stated, matter-of-factly. She nodded vaguely. “Let’s get you to the car. Come on.” He took her hand and stepped up the pace to the car park. She didn’t even have the presence of mind to notice the handholding.
A few minutes later, they were ensconced in a four-wheel-drive and Will was blasting the heater. “There are seat warmers too,” he said, flipping a switch on the dash.
As the warm air spewed from the vents in front of her, she started feeling her muscles uncoiling. Her cheeks stopped stinging and she could breathe without it hurting. “It’s really cold here,” she said eventually, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m guessing London doesn’t get like this, huh?” She shot a look across the car. He was watching her, one hand resting on the steering wheel and one on his thigh. His hands were large, strong-looking, and unblemished. Her mind flew to all the things he could do with those hands. Stop it, Lucy, she admonished. He’d asked her a question; manners dictated that she should answer it.
“I suppose. Maybe it does, but just a different kind of cold.”
“It’s fifteen below, right now.” She didn’t even bother doing the conversion from Fahrenheit to Celsius; it was ridiculously cold on either scale.
“Well, bollocks,” she replied, her manners eclipsed by the frigid weather.
Will bellowed out a laugh and started the car. “So, hey,” he said, as he pulled out of the parking space, “I know Jules told you we were going to my mom’s place overnight, but if it’s okay with you, I think we should head up the mountain today. There’s a blizzard coming and it could close the pass.”
“Oh.” A blizzard that closed mountain passes sounded worrying, but for all Lucy knew they were a common occurrence in this part of the world. “So, we’re going straight to your family’s cabin?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“Of course. How far is it?”
“It’s about a hundred miles from here. It usually only takes a couple of hours, but it might take a bit longer today.”
“Oh, right.”
“My mom, my stepdad, and my dad are already up there. My aunt and her family aren’t flying in from Seattle ’til tomorrow, so hopefully they’ll be able to make the drive in the morning. Depends on the pass.”
“Sorry, did you say your mum and your stepdad and your dad are all there together?” For some reason, Lucy thought Jules’s dad wouldn’t be there at Christmas. Had Jules mentioned it and she’d forgotten?
“Yeah, it’s a little unconventional, but they’re all good friends.”
“Huh.” Her parents, Max and Susan, popped into her head and she struggled to imagine a third person with them, a stranger who was married to one of them, and all three of them being the best of friends.
It was going to be an interesting Christmas, that was for sure.
*
“Hey, I’m sorry about this.” It was the third time Will had apologised in less than an hour.
“Honestly, it’s not your fault. It’s the weather.”
They were stopped on the mountain pass, surrounded on both sides by snowdrifts, which were growing incrementally with the light snowfall. They’d been creeping along for the past two hours, often stopping for five, ten, or even fifteen minutes at a time. With the blizzard imminent, it seemed the entire population of Denver was trying to get up the mountain before the pass closed.
Lucy hadn’t minded the delay. She and Will had been talking nonstop since they’d left the airport. She’d learnt all about the tech company he’d built from practically nothing. He had started it only a year ago, working from home at night and on weekends. In six months, he’d been able to quit his job as a software consultant, and he now had an office and four employees.
It was a vastly different career path than her own, having worked in the same department at the same law firm since leaving university. Sure, she’d been promoted several times and now managed a team of three, but it was the certainty of the work that she enjoyed most. The laws and regulations she had to adhere to provided her with a sense of stability and she loved knowing that if she did everything exactly right, the numbers would always add up.
And even though Will’s company supported micro-breweries and boutique distilleries, something she knew precisely nothing about other than her love of a good G&T, there were quite a few similarities between their jobs—namely, finances and laws. It was all very impressive what he’d accomplished, especially for someone who was only just coming up on thirty.
“I really didn’t think traffic would be this awful.” Will’s words permeated her thoughts. “It’s just bad timing, I guess. I mean, we could have waited out the storm in Boulder, but then we were risking missing Christmas.”
Lucy indulged the fantasy of being snowed in with Will—just the two of them. There was a roaring fire in the fantasy and those big strong han
ds. Her cheeks flushed and she chided herself again. She chanced a glance across the car; he was looking at her and scratching his chin.
“Uh, Lucy, this is sort of awkward, but … oh hell, look, I really have to pee.” He punctuated his admission with a frustrated sigh.
“Oh.” Her eyes widened and she felt the flush in her cheeks spread to the rest of her face. She was, at once, both embarrassed and relieved. She’d needed a wee since just after they’d left the airport. Only, how was this going to work?
“Yeah. So, look, we haven’t moved in a while. I’m thinking I’ll head over that way.” He pointed to a stand of trees about thirty feet away. Well, that sorted Will, but what about her? Realisation seemed to dawn across his face. “Oh, you need to go too, right?”
“Yes.” She pressed her palm to her chest, like she always did when she was nervous or embarrassed.
“Okay, how about this? I’ll go over there, and you open your door and the back door, and you go, uh, there—in between. That will give you some privacy.” He looked out of the windscreen and laughed. “Or you could just do what she’s doing.”
Lucy followed his gaze and saw a woman, trousers and pants down, squatting in the snow on the side of the road. A bark of a laugh escaped her, breaking the nervous tension in the car.
She glanced at Will. “Your plan seems better.”
*
Ensconced back in the warmth of the car, rubbing her chilled hands together and blowing on them, Lucy waited for Will. She didn’t want to look towards the trees in case she saw a flash of his bum, or worse yet, a yellow stream arcing into the snow. She needn’t have worried, though, because moments later the driver’s door opened, and Will climbed back into the car.
He fiddled with a dial on the dash and the air from the vents got warmer. “Well, I have to say,” he said, “that was a first for me.”
“What, weeing outside?” Lucy teased.
Will laughed and Lucy was delighted that she’d elicited such a wonderful sound. “Uh, no. Definitely not. I meant peeing outside in daylight in view of dozens of strangers and my sister’s hot friend.”
Lucy felt the sting of another flush. Hot friend. She ignored the scoffing inner voice, the one that still thought of her as an awkward, podgy eleven-year-old, and instead picked up her end of the banter.
“Oh, I didn’t peek.” He flashed her a grin, one eyebrow raised; she’d always wished she could do that. She was fairly certain it was a flirtatious move and emboldened by her own adventure in outdoor weeing, she continued.
“I’ve always thought it was better to wait until Christmas morning to unwrap presents, rather than to peek beforehand.”
Oh, Lucy, that was utterly cringeworthy.
There was a moment before Will answered and Lucy seriously contemplated getting out of the car and walking the rest of the way to the cabin.
“You know,” he began eventually, “this doesn’t happen very often, but I am actually speechless.”
Oh god. He thinks I’m a total slapper. Well, in for a penny, in for a pound.
“Horrified speechless or intrigued speechless?”
The car in front of them started moving, but before he put his in drive, Will pinned her with a look. “Oh, definitely the latter.” Then he turned his eyes to the road, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Lucy, relieved not to have made a total fool of herself, looked out her side window. It was so beautiful there, everything blanketed in white, snow hanging heavily on the boughs of the pine trees like nature’s fondant. The thought made her think of her mum’s Christmas cake, which she loved as much for the generous layer of marzipan and fondant, as for the brandy-soaked cake itself.
“Oh!” Lucy exclaimed, startling Will. “Sorry, but I’ve just been thinking about Mum’s Christmas cake, and remembered I’ve got one with me.”
Lucy’s mum had sent her across the pond with her very own Christmas cake—something to share with Jules’s family. It had arrived at her flat in the post the week before, wrapped in foil and tucked snugly into a box surrounded by scrunched up newspaper. It was now packed in her carry-on bag. “We could have some—if you’re hungry, that is.”
“I hope this doesn’t sound rude, but I don’t really like Christmas cake.”
“Sorry, what?” Who didn’t like Christmas cake?
“It’s just too dry and crumbly and it always tastes like it’s been out of date for, like, I dunno, a millennium.”
“Mum’s cake isn’t like that. It’s homemade and it’s wonderful.” Lucy caught the slight edge in her voice and lightened her tone. “Not to worry, more for me.” She just knew he’d think differently if he tried some. She turned in her seat and unzipped her carry-on, rummaging about for the cake.
“I’ve insulted you.”
“No. Honestly, you haven’t.” She pulled out the dense bounty and even though it was tightly wrapped, the smell of spices and sherry started filling the car.
“Well, then I’ve insulted your mom … Hold on, is that it, that smell?”
She sat the cake on her lap and carefully started peeling back the layers of foil. “Uh, yes,” she said nonchalantly. “Look.” The cake sat in its bed of foil, the snowy white fondant perfectly smooth.
Will glanced at the cake, then his gaze went back to the road. They were still crawling along, but at least they were moving. “Well, that does smell amazing. I’ve got a pocketknife in the glove compartment—unless you think we should just tear off chunks with our hands.” The smile was back and Lucy succumbed to one herself.
Minutes later, she placed a generous slab of Christmas cake sitting on top of a Burger King napkin—also from the glove box—onto Will’s thigh. The wedge sat tawny brown and glistening with delicious moistness. “See? Definitely not dry and crumbly.”
She watched him take a bite, then heard his guttural groan. Maybe I’ll get to hear more of that groan later, she thought before rolling her eyes at herself.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” she said, taking a bite of her own piece. “It’s even nicer with a thick slice of Wensleydale cheese,” she added, her hand covering her mouth.
“It’s amazing. I’m not sure about the cheese though. Is that an English thing?”
Lucy thought about it and realised she didn’t know. She’d just always had it that way and, ever since she was an adult, with a glass or two of sherry. “Hmm, not sure.”
“And, just asking, but is there alcohol in this?”
“Oh, loads. Mum practically empties an entire bottle of sherry into it in the month leading up to Christmas.” She had a realisation and her head spun towards Will just as he glanced at her, then down to the cake. “Oh, bollocks. You’re driving.”
“I was just thinking that.”
“Sorry, I should have realised. No cake for you, I’m afraid.” She took the cake off his leg, noting how taut his thigh was beneath his jeans, and wrapped it up in the napkin. “At least not until we get there.”
“It’s really good, though. You’ve definitely changed my mind.”
She smiled to herself as she took another bite. Looking out the window, she went back to her “snowed-in alone with Will” fantasy, which now included a boozy Christmas cake.
Chapter 6
Jules
“Here you go, sweetheart,” said her dad as he manoeuvred his SUV between two others. Denver airport was mayhem this time of year.
“Thanks again for driving me. You didn’t have to. I could have Ubered.”
“Jules, this may come as a huge surprise, but I’m going to miss you, sweetheart, and this way I got to spend a little more time with you.”
Jules wondered if she was imagining the sheen of tears in her dad’s eyes. He made a gruff man-sound and climbed out to retrieve her luggage from the trunk. Jules took a deep breath as a wave of melancholy washed over her. Yes, she was a grown woman with a job and her own place and a life, but this was the first time she’d be spending Christmas away from her family, from her dad.
The sound of the trunk slamming shut brought her back to the present. She gathered her carry-on bag and her satchel from the footwell and braced herself for the blast of cold.
Her dad was waiting on the pavement for her, stamping the way he did when it was close to freezing outside. She felt a pang of guilt—not just that her dad was standing outside in a snowstorm guarding her luggage, but that she was abandoning him—and her mother, her brother, her stepdad, and her aunt’s whole family—at Christmas. A gust of wind whipped her honey-blonde hair into her face, and it felt like a slap.
This is why I’m going to Australia where it’s hot.
“Bye, Dad,” she said, throwing her arms around her dad’s broad shoulders.
“Bye, sweetheart.” He enveloped her in a tight hug. “Text when you land, so I know you’re safe.”
“I will.”
Her dad’s hugs were the stuff of dreams, but there was no putting it off any longer or they’d both get frostbite. It was time to go. Jules stepped out of the hug and grinned at her dad. “See you next year!” She grabbed the handle of her luggage and jogged off towards the terminal door, the sound of her dad’s laughter catching on another gust of wind.
*
Denver-LA-Melbourne—as flights went, it was an easy journey. Even the two-hour layover at LAX wasn’t as bad as she had expected. Maybe the tacky piped holiday music and even tackier tinsel, Christmas lights, and gaudy Santas had worked their magic. People were actually smiling.
Or maybe, five days before Christmas, everyone was just in the holiday spirit. Everyone but her. On the short flight between Denver and LA, she had convinced herself she was doing the wrong thing.
She should have stayed and had the loud, chaotic Christmas that her screwed-up, but lovable family had every year. Or, at the very least, she should have waited and welcomed Lucy. She loved Lucy. Lucy was the sort of person who, just by being around her, made Jules’s spirit soar.
She should have stayed for her dad.
She knew, on the surface at least, that everything was amicable and her parents still shared some weird kind of love—just that it was platonic now. She knew he got along with her stepdad, Joe, and that he could handle himself among the brash familial love that Aunt Jackie and her family would bring to the holidays.