Christmas at the Lucky Parrot Garden Centre

by Beth Good

  ‘Hello?’

  There was no response.

  Daniel had gone.

  A gently steaming cup of tea sat on her battered pine coffee table, alongside a toasted sandwich, and a small parcel wrapped in brightly coloured paper.

  So that was what he'd brought in that bag.

  She ignored the tea and the sandwich, dropping into her favourite armchair and swiftly unwrapping the parcel, childishly eager to see what he’d left her.

  Inside was a box of chocolate truffles, and a plain white card on which Daniel had scrawled in rather messy, angular script:

  Woody says sorry for startling you, and he’d like an opportunity to get to know you better. We both would, in fact. So we’d be delighted if you would join us for dinner at Abbey Villa on Friday night. No eyeballs or bloody cocktails, I promise. Text me if you’re coming.

  Daniel

  Underneath this extraordinary message was a mobile phone number.

  His, presumably.

  Hannah stared down at the box of expensive truffles, and could not seem to catch her breath. This was what he had come round to deliver. A dinner invitation. From none other than Daniel Elliott. Not in the Lucky Parrot café this time, nor out at some swanky restaurant in York or Whitby, but in the infinitely more intimate and dangerous setting of Abbey Villa. If she accepted, she would be completely alone with him. And … his snake.

  She went quite pink.

  Oh my god.

  In the end she picked up her mobile and texted, ‘Yes to dinner, thank you,’, with fingers that trembled slightly, and then tried not to think about it any more.

  Easier said than done, of course. In fact, she tried so hard not to think about it that she ended up thinking about it anyway.

  All. The. Time.

  Friday evening arrived at last. She fed Pepper an extra-special fish dinner, as she wanted him to sleep all evening and not play merry hell with the tree again. Then she jumped in the shower, excited that she was finally going to get her wish. Tonight, Daniel would see her in something other than dirty overalls, or casual jeans and over-sized jumpers. So she was determined to wear something … feminine.

  Hannah chose a tight-fitting scarlet dress, the slinkiest thing in her entire wardrobe, that she had worn only once to a party last New Year’s Eve. She teamed it up with a chain of gold and green glass squares, and secured her shoulder-length hair in a loose top knot, making sure that tendrils drifted sexily around her face. At least, she hoped they looked sexy, and not like they had escaped unintentionally.

  Matching red heels or sensible wellies, though?

  There was a thin layer of snow outside when she opened her front door, and although Mr Smirthwaite had kindly gritted the road and cleared a path from her front door to her gate, she would still have to navigate the drive up to Abbey Villa.

  Oh, sod it.

  She slid her feet into the shockingly red high heels, grabbed her wrap, and a bottle of wine she had bought earlier at the off-licence, and after ordering Pepper to stay put, she set out into the dark.

  There was a certain freedom in walking openly up to the front door of Abbey Villa. Though it was odd how she hadn’t felt as nervous creeping up the drive on previous occasions as she did now, approaching the house openly.

  The door swung open before she could lift the knocker, leaving her hand stranded in mid air.

  Daniel stood there, smiling as he looked her up and down with appreciative eyes. ‘You look ravishing.’

  Was he going to ravish her, she wondered?

  Or should she ravish him?

  ‘Hello,’ she said breathlessly, shoving that reckless thought to the back of her mad brain, and thrusting the bottle at him. ‘I’ve bought wine.’

  ‘You didn’t need to. I had a case of wine delivered only the other day, and I’ll never get through it all before I leave. But thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  She also pushed aside that casual reference to him leaving, though it stung a little. If only he could live here in Yorkshire permanently.

  If ifs and ands were pots and pans, as she had heard Ivy say on numerous occasions. No point wishing for what’s impossible, she told herself in the old lady’s absence. Besides, he might be heading home after Christmas, but she’d have some serious eye candy between then and now to soothe away any heartache.

  And he did look totally gorgeous tonight, Hannah thought, ogling him shamelessly. His habitual black was leavened tonight by a green shirt, close to the colour of his eyes, open at the neck, revealing a glimpse of rough hair on his chest.

  Oh my.

  ‘Come inside out of the cold.’ Daniel took the wine, and kissed her on the cheek as she slipped past him. ‘Lovely shoes.’ His eyes seemed to glow as he closed the front door and turned to study her in detail, his gaze as frankly admiring as hers had been. ‘But a dangerous choice, perhaps. Given tonight’s weather.’

  ‘Oh, us Northern lasses are hardy as moor ponies,’ she told him airily, and teetered off down the hallway towards the kitchen in her high red heels, leaving him behind without a backward glance. ‘Trust me, we could wander round all night in our undies and not feel the cold.’

  ‘Is that so?’ he said drily, following her.

  ‘Absolutely.’ She paused on the kitchen threshold, gazing in. The windows were slightly steamed up, the air warm and redolent with the delicious aroma of cooking. ‘Try checking out the night clubs in York on a Friday night. You’ll see what I mean.’

  ‘Only if you come with me.’

  She glanced round at him, almost shocked by the suggestion, and her heart gave a tiny jerk of excitement or fear, or possibly both. ‘I’m not really – ’

  ‘A party person? Yes, so I recall.’ He went past her into the kitchen and put the red wine on the side, rummaging in Ivy’s cutlery drawer for a corkscrew. ‘Perhaps dinner in York next Friday night, then? We could ask for a window seat and knicker-spot from the comfort of a fully-heated restaurant.’

  Her cheeks felt flushed now, and not just from the heat in the kitchen. ‘I’ll have to think about it,’ she said carefully, not sure how deep she should plunge into this man’s company, however lovely it felt to be dipping her toes tonight. ‘It’s getting close to Christmas. I may have to work late.’

  ‘On a Friday night?’

  ‘It does happen at this time of year.’

  She cast about for a way to change the subject, peering through the open plan kitchen to the dining area. Ivy’s small round table had been laid ready for their meal. If she’d had any doubt about whether this was a friendly dinner or an actual date, the immaculate white linen tablecloth, cut-crystal wine glasses, and single red candle in the centre, rapidly clarified things. Her heart sped up as she considered the significance of that romantic-looking single candle, already lit, its flame burning gently.

  Was this a seduction?

  Catching his gaze on her face, she managed to say, ‘How lovely! But you really shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble.’

  ‘It was no trouble. Besides, I wanted to strike a different note to the ambiance at the Lucky Parrot café,’ he said with a grin, ‘charming though it was.’

  ‘There’s no comparison, believe me,’ Hannah said wryly, eyeing the crystal glassware, but then felt a little disloyal to her employer. ‘Still, I actually like the décor in the garden centre café. It’s a cheerful place to have lunch on a cold winter’s day.’

  Dragging the cork out of the wine bottle, Daniel smiled as though he had read her mind again. Which perhaps he had, in that spooky way of his. ‘Of course it is. I didn’t mean to suggest otherwise.’ A timer went off above the cooker and he grimaced, hurriedly passing her the wine. ‘Sorry, could you pop that bottle on the dining table for me? I’d better start serving dinner.’

  She carried the wine through and placed it carefully on the table. The room looked cosy and intimate, the long velvet curtains drawn to shut out the cold night. There was a handsome Christmas tree in one cor
ner, hung with delicate glassy baubles and wreathed generously in thick swathes of gold and silver tinsel. A string of coloured lights flashed cheerfully on and off in its branches, lending the room a festive air. She spotted the empty lights box next to the tree, and grinned at the price sticker, recognising it as Lucky Parrot Garden Centre stock that had been recently reduced.

  So it was Daniel who had put up this Christmas tree and decorated it, not Ivy.

  That was interesting.

  ‘Can you turn on the iPod too?’ he called through the open archway from the kitchen, then turned back to the cooker, oven glove in hand. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Erm … ’

  Hannah frowned, peering about for the device, then found an iPod dock on the sideboard. It appeared to be turned on, so she pressed play.

  She had expected mood music. Perhaps some soft jazz, or classical music, something low and seductive to accompany dinner.

  Instead, the cheerful strains of a traditional Christmas carol came pouring out of the iPod speaker, sung by what sounded like choirboys in a large church or cathedral.

  ‘While shepherds watched their flocks by night … ’

  Her brows rose in surprise.

  ‘You like Christmas carols?’ he called out.

  Hannah drifted back to the threshold of the kitchen area, intrigued by this contradictory man, who lived such a glamorous celebrity life in London, yet seemed to enjoy the simplest of pleasures. Dinner for two at home, Christmas carols, lights on the tree …

  ‘I love them.’

  He glanced round at her, perhaps catching something in her voice, and smiled. ‘Excellent.’

  He bent to remove a steaming ceramic dish from the oven. She tried not to stare again, but couldn’t prevent her gaze from following him about the kitchen, dishing up vegetables and snapping off the cooker. His movements were graceful and economical as he precisely placed each serving on the two oval-shaped plates.

  ‘Allow me,’ he said, carrying both plates through to the table.

  Once they were seated opposite each other, he nodded to her. ‘Please, eat. No need to wait,’ he said, unfurling his white cloth napkin and laying it elegantly across his lap.

  ‘Thank you, this all looks amazing.’

  ‘Bon appétit!’ Daniel took a deep swallow of wine, and then made an appreciative face. ‘Mmm. Deep cherry fruit, with vanilla undertones.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘The wine.’ He toasted her with his raised glass. ‘To you, Hannah, for saying yes.’ He drank some more, then nodded. ‘I love these New Zealand Merlots. Good call.’

  Unsure, Hannah picked up her wine glass, then took a little sip. Not a big wine drinker, she had grabbed the first nice-looking bottle off the shelf in the off-licence, and to be honest, this one just tasted like any other red wine to her. But she could see his gaze intent on her face, clearly waiting for a reaction.

  Smiling at him nervously, she took a proper gulp, rolling the fruity liquid about in her mouth as she had seen him do when first tasting it.

  ‘Mmm,’ she murmured, then swallowed. ‘Very … erm …’

  When she tailed off, he grinned across the table at her. ‘Exactly. Very erm.’ Then he nodded to her food again. ‘So what do you think?’

  Hannah was starving by then, and could probably have gobbled down a horse, but she didn’t want Daniel to think she had no manners. Besides, the wild mushroom and venison stroganoff in front of her looked like it needed to be savoured. So she did just that, eating with deliberate care and enjoying every mouthful.

  And goodness, he could cook!

  ‘Wow,’ she said, staring at him, ‘your stroganoff is seriously scrumptious.’

  He laughed. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You made this all on your own, right?’ When he nodded casually, she added, ‘Sorry to sound a bit sexist here. But my dad can barely make himself egg on toast. Do you mind if I ask where you learned to cook like this?’

  ‘Ivy.’ He topped up her wine. ‘Back when I was a kid, I used to come here for my school holidays and she taught me all the basics.’

  ‘More than the basics,’ Hannah said enviously, and took another few thirsty glugs of wine. Gosh, she could taste those vanilla undertones now. At any rate, the wine was getting tastier the more she drank. ‘This is delicious.’

  ‘Wait until you’ve tasted dessert.’

  Hannah thought maybe she’d died and gone to heaven when she took her first mouthful of the baked chocolate pudding he set in front of her.

  ‘Oh my. That’s… I’m – ’

  He watched her eat, a distinct gleam in his eye. ‘Good, huh?’

  ‘Understatement of the century.’

  His slow smile warmed her skin and made her toes curl in her high heels.

  You are falling way too fast and hard for this man, she told herself sternly. Be careful or you’ll end up with your heart well and truly snapped in two.

  ‘How … erm … How do you make it?’ she asked, trying not to blush under his stare.

  ‘Ivy’s secret recipe,’ he whispered, leaning forward conspiratorially. ‘I would tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.’

  She licked her lips, chasing the last of her chocolate dessert, and saw him watching the tiny gesture.

  She ran a hand across her forehead, breathing fast. Gosh, she thought, it was hot in here after her chilly cottage. Or maybe it was the wine …

  ‘Hey, aren’t you going to eat yours?’ A little tipsy, she waved her spoon towards his untouched dessert and it clinked against her wine glass, making it wobble. ‘Oops.’

  They both grabbed the glass at the same time, his palm covering hers. For a brief moment, they remained frozen like that, and then, a sudden heat flaring in her cheeks, Hannah let go of the glass, and Daniel finally picked up his spoon and took a mouthful of dessert.

  But her skin still tingled where he had touched her.

  DANGER! RED ALERT!

  Dizzily, she searched for something to say that might distract them both from that wickedly seductive little moment.

  ‘How’s Woody? You said that he … he’d be joining us for dinner.’

  ‘Ah yes, well, that may have been an exaggeration. Woody’s upstairs right now in my bedroom, safely contained in his tank. I thought having a snake in the dining room might give you indigestion.’ Daniel gave a rueful half-smile at her expression, as both of them recalled what had happened the day Woody escaped. As if she would ever be able to forget that surreal moment when a film director fell on her while hunting for his snake. ‘But he’s usually very well-behaved, trust me.’ He paused, his head tipped to one side as he studied her face. ‘Would you like a proper introduction?’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  When Daniel drew her into his bedroom, grinning at her undisguised reluctance, she looked nervously at the large, glass tank but could not see the snake, only several desperate crickets clinging to the inside of the glass. He removed the lid, which made her stiffen. But when he pointed out the snake, she saw that Woody was not poised to escape but curled up in one corner under a leafy branch, ignoring them both.

  ‘Here he is,’ Daniel said softly, moving one of the leaves aside so that Woody’s full scaly length could be seen. ‘My snake.’ When Hannah gave a quiet snort of laughter, unable to control herself, he glanced at her with a puzzled expression. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, nothing.’ But she was finding it hard not to giggle.

  ‘Would you like to hold him?’

  ‘Would I like to hold your snake?’ Hannah’s barely suppressed giggle turned into laughter. ‘Seriously? Tell me you meant that as a joke.’

  To her surprise, there was a hard line of red across Daniel’s cheekbone. ‘Actually, I didn’t.’ He hesitated, then replaced the lid on the tank, and she could tell that her mockery had offended him. ‘I’m sorry if – ’

  Hannah put out a hand, stopping him. She was touching his chest, she realised with a shock. When had he moved so close?

  ‘Please,’ s
he said, the edge of laughter in her voice replaced by a husky tone. ‘Don’t apologise. It’s me who should say sorry.’ She met his gaze. ‘I wasn’t making fun of you. Or Woody. It’s … the wine. I don’t know what I’m saying.’

  ‘Don’t you?’

  He was so close now that she could smell that sharp cologne again. He wound one arm loosely around her waist. She knew that she ought to pull away, to reject this seduction before it went too far. But somehow she couldn’t bring herself to do it. Something in his eyes, perhaps. Or the way his fingers were stroking warmly up and down her spine. Instead, she set her other palm against the resilience of his chest, feeling his heart beat under her finger tips. It was going as fast as hers, she realised with a start.

  What had they been talking about?

  Hannah had lost track of the conversation, her fingertips stroking the soft fabric of his shirt, while she pondered what he looked like underneath.

  She should never have drunk so much wine. Not that she was drunk. But she was ridiculously relaxed, almost boneless in his arms as he bent towards her.

  ‘Hannah?’ Her name on his lips was both a warning and a plea.

  ‘Hush. I’m thinking.’

  ‘Think faster.’

  ‘Okay. Well, first off, I’m not a one-night stand kind of girl.’ She slid her fingers through the little space between his shirt buttons, and felt the warmth and resilience of his skin.

  ‘I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy.’

  ‘Secondly, we should tidy away the dinner things.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘Or rinse off the dishes, at least.’

  He nodded solemnly, stroking her cheek with one long finger. ‘Nothing worse than dried-on food.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Was that the third thing?’

  She bit her lip, her breathing erratic. ‘I’m … not sure.’

  He had found the pins keeping her hair up, and now deftly pulled them out so her hair tumbled down around her shoulders.

  ‘Beautiful.’ He combed his fingers through her mousey-brown strands and raised a handful to his cheek, breathing in. ‘You smell of Christmas.’