by Clare Lydon
Ruby still stared, her cheeks flushed, her gaze intense.
The wind fluttered suddenly, sending snowflakes into their faces.
Both Ruby and Fran leaned away from the gate, shaking their heads. They straightened at the same time, turning to each other.
Fran gulped, and stared into Ruby’s greener than green eyes. Right now, she felt like she could drown in them.
Ruby stepped into Fran’s space.
Desire slid down Fran’s body. They hadn’t kissed, but it felt like they had. Fran was so aware of Ruby. Ruby was watching the rise and fall of Fran’s chest, her every breath.
“I could never go out with someone who didn’t get Mistletoe, or family.”
Fran shook her head. “Me neither.”
Ruby got closer still. “I want you to know also, this is not me at all.” Her intense gaze was drilling into Fran’s soul. “I don’t usually act on my feelings. But you’re making me act differently.”
She was so close, Fran could feel her breath. “I am?”
“First the concert. And now…” Ruby left the sentence hanging as she grasped Fran’s gloved hands and raised them to her mouth to kiss them. Her dark gaze kept Fran fixed to the spot.
When Ruby leaned in further, Fran forgot it was snowing.
Forgot it was freezing.
Forgot they were standing on a path, bathed in moonlight.
When Ruby’s lips connected with hers, Fran forgot everything.
Ruby’s lips were glorious. They tasted of hope, of freedom, of her. More than that, they fitted Fran’s as if they’d been made to measure. No alterations required. As their kiss gained momentum, a glitter bomb of happiness steamrollered through her.
Then Ruby’s fingers were on Fran’s waist, staking their claim. Ruby pulled her close, their lips still pressed tight together. Ruby ran one hand up the side of Fran. She cupped her face. Ruby was strong and gentle, the perfect package. As the snow continued to fall, the tension spiked, dancing all over Fran’s skin. Fran’s kisses grew hungrier. Her lips danced across Ruby’s. She couldn’t get enough.
If someone had asked her this morning if she should get involved with another singer and kiss her in a snowstorm, she’d have told you it sounded like a Delilah song. Or perhaps one Ruby might sing in the future. If this was a mistake, Fran would happily live with the consequences.
Since Delilah left, Fran had been sad, then wary. Since she’d arrived in Mistletoe, excitement had returned to her life. Fran was tired of feeling like she was always running to catch up. In Mistletoe, she just was. Right now, that involved kissing Ruby like her life depended on it.
Fran moaned as Ruby slipped her tongue into her mouth.
The snow storm picked up, now matching the beat of her heart as it swirled and dived around them. Fran was in no hurry for anything to change anytime soon. Far from needing to get back to London, now the only thing in her mind was how to extend her stay. To be close to Ruby. To her mouth. To her divine kisses. Plus, whatever came after that.
After a few long moments, Ruby broke the kiss. There was a white heat in her stare that thrilled Fran.
Cold air buffeted them. Snow hit her face.
It didn’t feel like it had a few minutes ago. Now, she was impervious to its chill. Plus, the heat of Ruby’s breath warmed her cheeks, along with the languid smile painted on her face.
“You taste delicious.” Ruby licked her lips.
Fran was just about to comment when Ruby kissed her again, this time with more force, more passion.
Ruby wrapped her arms around Fran and pulled her close.
It was all Fran could do not to fall backwards in her arms, in the manner of a Hollywood movie.
What the hell was Ruby doing to her? They should have done this sooner.
Had Fran been thinking about kissing Ruby when she saw her on stage the first time? No.
When they broke down? No.
When they fell in the snow? Maybe.
In The Bar? Perhaps.
Eventually, Ruby broke away. This time, her smile was so broad, Fran thought it might break her face.
“You look pleased with yourself.” It wasn’t Fran’s best line.
Ruby grinned a little more. “I am. I wasn’t sure we were going to kiss, but I’m glad we did.”
Fran nodded. “Me, too. I could kiss you all night.”
“I’ll hold you to that one day.” She glanced upwards. “But right now, as much as your kisses were perfect, you think we can get out of this snow?”
Fran looked into Ruby’s gorgeous eyes and nodded. “Walk me home?”
Ruby leaned in and kissed her lips again. Her touch was feather-light, but its effect was anything but.
Fran shivered once more, as the reverberation landed in her core. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” She put a hand on Ruby’s cheek as their gazes connected.
Ruby supplied a smouldering look. “I guarantee it.”
Chapter 17
Fran woke the following morning before her alarm went off. Despite her thick, cream curtains, she could still sense the winter wonderland beyond, its power strong. When she got up and pulled back the curtains, she wasn’t wrong. A fresh duvet of snow had fallen overnight, now at least 20-tog. If their old dog, Rhubarb, was still alive, she’d have run outside and disappeared. In Mistletoe, every December day was served chilled. However, red-hot nights could also be ordered, as Fran had experienced last night.
That kiss was still alive in her blood stream, in all her senses. Perhaps because it had been so unexpected.
The fourth quarter was for work, for the Christmas sales surge. Everyone knew that.
It wasn’t for kissing folk singers on moonlit lanes.
At least, it hadn’t been until Ruby O’Connell came along.
From the time they’d left the bar together, there had been something inevitable about the evening. Something film-worthy.
When Fran licked her lips, she could taste Ruby’s lips all over again. Her body shook as she remembered its full force.
She’d kissed Ruby. It was going to be at the forefront of her mind for the rest of the day.
Fran turned to grab her phone. Today was Saturday. If she wanted to get back to London next week, she needed to book a train. Only, she didn’t want to, did she? Maybe she could buy a day or two working from here. With a sick parent, she had the perfect excuse. Today was about them spending time as a family. Something she should have put to the top of her list a long time ago.
Fran scrolled through her phone to get the ball rolling with Damian: her absence affected him the most. If he could cover a couple of meetings and gigs, she could phone in to the rest. So long as Fast Forward stuck to their task and performed with no hiccups. But that would also depend on the outside world playing nicely, too.
Fran composed an email to Damian, then clicked send.
It bounced straight back. Mistletoe reception had struck again: hadn’t Mary said it was better this year? Hollybush Cottage appeared to be a blind spot. Fran sucked air through her teeth. She’d have to try again later.
She pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt with a reindeer on it — a present from her parents — then strolled downstairs. When she arrived, she found Pop sitting at the round wooden table in the country-style kitchen, reading a cookery magazine. His plastered leg rested on the tiled floor, his crutches within easy reach. Dad was at the hob making pancakes.
When he heard her, Dad turned. “Good to see your ability to sniff a pancake at 100 paces hasn’t changed.”
Fran grinned. “It’s my superpower, you know that.” She kissed both her parents good morning, then flicked on the kettle, and grabbed a mug and teabag from the cannister on the side. As the water heated, she glanced out the window, her breath still taken by the snowy scene beyond.
“Is this cheering you up?” She motioned out the window as she addressed Pop.
He nodded. “I know I wasn’t in hospital for long, but the view was rubbish. This i
s much better.”
“It’s cracking,” Fran replied. “I was just thinking about Rhubarb. How she’d have run outside in this snow and disappeared.”
“Then reappeared, her ears like angel’s wings,” Dad added, laughing. “She loved the snow, didn’t she?” He held up the mixture he’d made in his plastic jug, just as he had her entire life. “I take it you want pancakes?”
“Have I ever been known to turn down a pancake?”
“Not in living memory.”
“Well, then,” Fran replied. “Also, I’m thinking about staying on a bit longer this week. I want to make sure you’re both okay. No more arguments with patches of ice or snow.”
“I thought you had loads of work on?” Pop put down his magazine.
Fran nodded. “I do, but I can work from here for a bit.”
Pop sat back, moving his leg. “Does that mean you’re staying for Christmas? Because that would be really terrific.”
The kettle boiled and Fran made her tea, skilfully avoiding the question. “Do either of you need a new one?”
Pop passed her his mug and she made it.
“We’re still waiting for an answer, Francesca Jane.”
Her full name. Now she was in trouble. “I’m not sure, so don’t get your hopes up. I do have a lot of work on, and I was doubtful I’d be able to do it seeing as the Wi-Fi at the cottage is terrible. However, now I have The Bar to work in, it could make a difference. I need to check with my colleagues, too. I kinda volunteered to help Ruby do a gig at the farm next weekend, too.” All dependent on Fast Forward, who were coming into sharper focus today. She needed to speak to Damian.
“You seem to be getting on well after a wobbly start? I’m glad. It seemed a waste that you knew each other, but were keeping your distance.”
“It was a bit weird at first, but things have improved.” Fran sat next to Pop and sipped her tea. Was she blushing? She certainly felt like she was.
“She’s doing a gig next weekend? That’s a lot to organise in such a short period of time. Plus, won’t most people have bought their trees already, the week before Christmas?”
“Most will, some won’t. But it’s about getting people in to see what the farm has to offer. Also, they can pre-order next year’s tree, too.”
Dad put the pancakes on the table, and Fran grabbed the maple syrup from the cupboard, before tucking in. She smiled as she ate. Pancakes were Dad’s speciality, the taste of her childhood.
“Whatever’s keeping you here — my fall or Ruby’s gig — it makes us happy,” Pop said. “We want to see you more. I’m really glad you’re getting on with the locals and pitching in. Especially when my involvement in anything this year might be curtailed because of my stupid leg.”
Fran smiled at him. “I’ll be your representative in the field. I’m asking my colleague if he can cover some of my meetings on Monday, and hopefully I can do some in The Bar. Plus, I’ve got one of our designers working on some social media stuff for the gig. He does this sort of stuff every day professionally, so it makes sense to ask him. What would take him half an hour might take a day to explain to someone else.” She was justifying this too much, wasn’t she?
Sure enough, Dad raised his eyebrow at Pop. In turn, Pop squirted maple syrup onto his pancakes, then gave Fran an interested stare.
“Wow, you really are on-board. I’m impressed. You said you had too much work on. Once your mind’s made up, there’s usually no shifting Francesca Bell. You’re stubborn. You get that from your father.” Pop inclined his head towards Dad.
“I am not stubborn!” Dad said.
Both Pop and Fran burst out laughing.
“You’re stubborn, Dad, and so am I. Stop being so stubborn and just accept it.” Fran had missed this. She glanced out the window, thinking back to last night. Her temperature rose. Was Mistletoe magic real? Maybe it was.
“Is this sudden change of heart and wanting to help out your local community anything to do with Ruby? Is there anything you're not telling us?” Pop couldn’t crinkle his forehead any more if he tried.
Fran shook her head. “No.”
But her body betrayed her, with a rush of blood to her cheeks.
Her dads had always been able to read her like a book. It was one of their very annoying traits. They were both studying her like she was a prize artwork in a gallery they both loved.
She knew it was out of character. She liked Ruby. She wanted to help her succeed. She was willing to change her work schedule to do so. To let Damian handle Fast Forward, even though she knew he was more than capable. That was new.
“Nothing at all? Because we are your parents. If you are lusting after another girl, we might be able to give you some wisdom.”
“I'm not lusting after another girl. Sometimes you two being gay is so annoying. These are not the conversations children normally have with their parents.” She sounded like she was 14 again and trying to deny it for real the first time around. She’d tried so hard to be straight and to fit in at school. At 17, she gave in and told her dads what they already knew.
“Yes, but those are people that usually have opposite-sex parents.” Dad gave her a shrug. “Whereas you won the gay parent jackpot. So if you are after another girl — or even a man, we're not close minded — we’re here for you.”
Pop reached over and put his hand on her arm. “We are, even though I can't help you get up and run after Ruby. I'm here for you for all other needs, though.”
Fran gave him a puzzled face. “I’ve told you before, I can run my own matters of the heart. But there is no matter of the heart here. I can't get involved with another singer after Delilah, you know that.”
Her parents exchanged looks over their pancakes.
“Ruby’s hardly Delilah, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. We never met Delilah as that would have made everything too real for her. But Ruby is a real person and she seems lovely. Plus, I prefer her music, too.”
“You haven’t heard it.”
“I have,” Pop said, pulling back his shoulders. “I know how to work Spotify just like you do.” He paused. “Plus, Ruby’s from a lovely family, whereas Delilah’s sounded like a nightmare. These things make a difference when choosing a partner. My parents never accepted us and it leaves a dent.”
Fran knew that. But at least they had Dad’s family who were lovely.
“I know Ruby’s from a good family. But that doesn’t mean I’m after her.”
“Methinks the lady doth protest too much,” Pop told her.
“Methinks you're talking nonsense.” But Fran knew she was protesting too much. She clapped her hands together. “Anyway, let’s eat these delicious pancakes, then I need to make one phone call. After that, I’m all yours. I’m making curry, and I thought we could watch a film this afternoon?”
Pop’s face lit up. “A Christmas film?”
Fran nodded, happy to move the subject along. “I was thinking Elf, or whatever you fancy.”
“Elf sounds perfect,” Dad replied.
Fran glanced out the window again. “Have you thought about getting another dog now you’re settled? It’s been three years since Rhubarb, and Mistletoe is the perfect place for one.”
Pop nodded. “We have. We were thinking of getting a couple of rescue dogs. Older ones that take it easy, and need a place to spend their final years.”
“I love that. Two old dogs for two silver foxes.”
Chapter 18
Ruby stood at the door of one of the barns, gazing out at the Christmas tree fields behind it. She took a deep breath in. The smell of fir trees was the smell of home.
The barn was one of the more insulated buildings they had. However, it was still freezing on this December Monday morning. It had been stacked high with Christmas trees, but was now two-thirds empty: proof that sales had picked up over the last couple of days. Maybe this year really would signal a change of fortunes for the farm. Hopefully, Ruby’s concert would move the needle, too.
&nb
sp; She jogged on the spot for a few moments, then did star jumps to get her blood flowing. She’d done her main vocal warm-up in the house, but decamped to the barn when Mum kept interrupting and commenting on her voice. To finish off her rehearsal, she needed a bit more warmth. She walked over to the barn office in the corner, shut the door, pulled the blinds and turned on the radiators.
Ruby liked to come here when she needed a little time away from the family to play, sing, or just be. The office housed two desks and a comfortable red sofa underneath a wall of Christmas tree photos. On the opposite side of the room was a hospitality station with a kettle, Nespresso machine, and a fridge below. This was where her dad and Scott brought their bigger corporate clients when they’d walked them around the fields and sprinkled them with Christmas magic. Ruby did a few more warm-up exercises, taking slugs of hot water and lemon from her steel-cased flask to ease her voice back into action.
She cleared her throat, pushing thoughts of Fran and how they’d kissed on Friday night from her mind. She could still feel how Fran had grasped her waist with her strong fingers. Still remember how she tasted. Ruby wanted to taste her again. That thought sent a scuttle of heat down her body. Ruby shivered. They’d exchanged a couple of messages since, but Fran had spent the weekend with her parents.
Ruby picked up her folder of song lyrics and got on with the job at hand. Being in the moment and singing. It was her speciality. She called up the backing tracks on her phone, and hit play. She’d just run through ‘Winter Wonderland’ and ‘Rudolph The Red-Nosed Reindeer’ when there was a knock on the office door, and Victoria walked in. It was just like their childhood: Victoria knocked, but then always walked straight in.
“All right, karaoke queen?”
“I hope I'm better than somebody having a go at karaoke.” Ruby folded her arms and frowned. “Otherwise it's going to be a very short and grumbly concert.”
“You’re going to be just fine.” Victoria gave her a hug. “Are you singing your own songs, too? Not just Christmas tunes?”
Ruby nodded. “I will be. But I have to sing the classics as well. You don’t get Robbie Williams or Michael Bublé doing a gig at Christmas without some festive songs, do you?”