His Mistletoe Proposal

by Christy McKellen

  Flora could do nothing but nod like one of those tacky toy dogs you saw in the back of cars sometimes. She was suddenly terrified she might start crying in the middle of the restaurant and have to sit there with her make-up running down her face and nowhere to hide.

  Alex obviously read her distress because he gave her hand a squeeze. ‘Hey, let’s get out of here. This place is making my headache worse.’ He glanced around the magnificent room with a pained grimace. ‘There’s a really good pub round the corner that does amazing burgers.’

  Wrestling her emotions back under control, Flora shot him a bewildered look. ‘But we’ve come here for afternoon tea.’ She gestured round at the magnificent eighteenth-century room with its cut-glass chandelier hanging from the ornate ceiling and the grand piano, which was being expertly played by a gentleman in a tuxedo.

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘For a tiny plate of overpriced cucumber sandwiches? Sorry, but that’s not going to cut it for me today.’

  ‘Actually, this place is known for having one of the best—’ But he’d already stood up and was waving for the waiter to bring the bill.

  Deciding not to fight him on this—she wanted to keep things as friendly and light-hearted as possible considering why they were meeting each other today—she gritted her teeth and stood up, taking her purse out of her bag ready to pay for her drink.

  He spotted her pulling out a twenty-pound note and waved it away.

  ‘I’ll get this.’

  ‘You don’t have—’ But he’d already taken the bill from the waiter. He proceeded to rummage in his pockets to produce a handful of coins, which he emptied into his hand.

  ‘Thanks, man,’ he said. ‘Keep the change.’

  The waiter gave him a tight smile, then walked away, no doubt cursing them both for being the most awkward customers of the day.

  Outside the Pump Room crowds of shoppers were stopping and starting along the pavement, as every now and again someone would halt at one of the little German-style wooden huts belonging to the large Christmas market that had taken over the whole of the city centre.

  ‘Wow, it’s busy out here,’ Flora said as they waited for a break in the flow so they could join the slow-moving crowd.

  ‘Warm inside the throng though,’ Alex said with a smile. ‘Free heat.’

  He was right. Despite the biting cold of the day, it felt cosy and comforting being encased in the large mob of people. There was an excited, almost magical, feeling in the air too, no doubt an eagerness for the upcoming festivities.

  Flora had spent many years in her youth loving the excitement of the run-up to Christmas, but she felt nothing but numbness about it now. It was all too tangled up with the fallout from her last serious relationship.

  Pushing away the wave of gut-churning despondency she always felt whenever she thought about that, she looked round and focused on a stall selling silk scarves in every colour of the rainbow, taking comfort in the beauty of the sight.

  ‘So you live in Bath but work in London?’ Alex asked as they walked away from the scarf stall, stopping at the next one along to peruse a tantalising display of mince pies and Christmas cakes. Alongside them an assortment of delicious-looking pastries covered in snow-white icing gleamed in the soft winter sunshine.

  She nodded. ‘Yes. I commute into Paddington and the office is only a ten-minute walk from there. I felt like taking a break from living in the middle of a big city,’ she said, telling herself she wasn’t exactly lying by saying that. Recently she’d started to think that living outside the city where she worked would be better for her health. She’d be less inclined to pop into work at the weekends and less likely to stay as late in the evenings if she had to catch a train home.

  Looking round at Alex, she realised that he wasn’t even listening to her, but smiling at the pretty young stallholder instead. ‘Nice buns,’ he said to the woman, giving her a wink and making her blush and giggle coquettishly.

  Flora rolled her eyes at the stallholder’s reaction to Alex’s cheesy pickup line. Okay, he was a good-looking man, she supposed—he had the same smile as Amy, which could light up a room—but the guy was a rumpled mess.

  He turned and caught her staring at him.

  ‘What?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just—’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You don’t seem—’

  He appeared frustrated with her lack of words. ‘What? Sad, bereft, miserable? Just because I’m not bawling my eyes out in public doesn’t mean I don’t miss my sister.’

  Prickly heat washed over her. ‘I know that. I wasn’t criticising the way you’re mourning her.’

  ‘Weren’t you?’ He gave her a look that made guilt pool in her stomach. ‘I promised her I wouldn’t let grief get in the way of getting on with my life and I intend to keep that promise. She’d hate it if either of us was sitting around moping.’

  ‘Yes, okay.’ She held up her hands as a peace offering. ‘I understand that. I guess it’s just taking me longer to adjust to life without her, that’s all.’

  His expression softened and he flashed her his beguiling smile, making something twist oddly in her stomach. ‘Fair enough. I know how close you two were. I don’t mean to criticise you either. Each to their own, I suppose. I’ve chosen to move on with my life. It doesn’t mean that I don’t think about her all the damn time.’

  Flora gave him a sympathetic smile, her guilt dissipating a little.

  ‘Come on, let’s get to the pub,’ he said, gesturing to somewhere off in the distance. ‘I could really do with a hair of the dog.’

  Nodding, she fell into step alongside him on strangely wobbly legs and they rejoined the crowd, moving slowly onwards.

  * * *

  Alex Trevelyan took a deep breath and willed his heartbeat to slow down as he and Flora pushed their way through the dense throng of Christmas shoppers.

  He really didn’t want to be here right now. His head was pounding and he was having trouble keeping a smile on his face after Flora’s insinuation that he wasn’t mourning his sister properly.

  From what he’d seen of her so far, he was surprised this rather uptight woman could have been such a good friend of his sister’s, until he remembered the look of near reverence on Amy’s face when she’d described Flora to him.

  ‘She’s really something,’ Amy had said with enthusiasm. ‘She comes across as a bit—’ She’d paused, searching for the right word, her nose wrinkling with the effort. ‘A bit spiky, I guess you’d say—especially if you don’t know her well. All the people where we worked were intimidated by her.’ She’d smiled as if remembering her friend’s tyranny fondly. ‘But underneath she’s got a heart of gold. You’d like her. Honestly.’

  It was the ‘honestly’ that had spoken to him. Knowing his sister as he did, Alex knew that it meant she wanted him to like Flora, but wasn’t sure that he would.

  Well, he could see now why Amy might have been sceptical. He wasn’t entirely sure that he did like Flora, with her side-eyeing and staid pragmatism. Though he’d be a liar to say he didn’t find her physically compelling. Who wouldn’t, with her long sweep of shiny caramel-blonde hair and big grey-green eyes. She was definitely an attractive woman—though more because she made the most of her assets rather than being a stop-you-in-your-tracks beauty and she had a magnetism that kept drawing his gaze back to her. She was dressed as if she was going to a business meeting rather than getting a bite to eat with a friendly acquaintance though. And she was just so polished. Everything about her shone, from the tips of her manicured nails to the toes of her high-heeled leather boots. Wealth and good taste seemed to exude from every pore of her being.

  She was not his usual type at all. He preferred women who weren’t afraid to get their hair wet in the rain or get covered in mud on a long walk through the woods. He liked
natural and down-to-earth and simple. Like his ex-girlfriend, Tia. The woman he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.

  Pushing away the sinking feeling that thinking about his ex created, he stared blankly ahead of him. He’d moved on now. There was no point in looking back. He’d promised Amy he wouldn’t do that.

  As they walked on, he noticed Flora turning her head from side to side, as if trying to take in as many of the Christmassy sights as possible. The magic of the season held no allure for him at all this year. In fact, it would be fair to say that he was looking forward to the month of December being over and done with. Christmas Day was only going to remind him of how alone he was now.

  ‘Take a left here,’ he said into Flora’s ear, attempting to cut through the noise of the crowd as they approached the side street leading towards the pub. The expensive scent of her perfume wafted into his nose, making him shiver in the strangest of ways. It had been months since he’d been in intimate contact with a woman and his body seemed to have gone a little haywire from the absence of it.

  She nodded in acknowledgement and they moved slowly towards an opening in the crowd.

  He watched her sashay ahead of him—elegant but entirely self-aware.

  It made him think about something else Amy had said about Flora. ‘I worry she’s losing herself in her ridiculous quest for perfection.’ Well, that fitted with what little he’d seen of her so far.

  He wondered what else he was going to discover about her before the end of the day.

  CHAPTER TWO

  FLORA TRIED NOT to wrinkle her nose at the smell of stale beer that seemed to rise up in waves from the ugly red-and-brown patterned carpet as they entered the gloomy pub that Alex had insisted on bringing them to.

  ‘I’m going to order a burger at the bar. Want one?’ Alex asked as she settled herself at one of the sticky mahogany-stained tables, trying to avoid sitting on a suspicious-looking brown stain on the vinyl padded bench.

  ‘Er...no, thanks. I’ll just have a drink for now.’

  He gave her a bemused frown, then shrugged. ‘Okay. What would you like to drink then?’

  She thought about it for a moment, then decided that alcohol might actually make this situation a little bit easier. ‘I’ll have a pint of the local cider.’

  His brows shot up. ‘Really? It’s pretty potent stuff.’

  She bristled. ‘I might look like a lightweight, but I bet I can drink you under the table.’

  ‘Now there’s a challenge,’ he said, grinning at her before turning away to head over to the bar.

  She watched him charm the barmaid, wondering how on earth she was going to successfully insinuate herself into his life without it looking really suspicious. She was pretty sure he’d be entirely resistant to the idea of her keeping an eye on him if he knew that was what she was really here for.

  He was so different to Amy, she mused while waiting for him to come back with the drinks. It was odd, considering that they’d both been brought up in exactly the same environment at the same time. But then she and her younger sister weren’t exactly alike either. Violet was vivacious, artsy and beautiful, the total opposite of her: sensible, conventional and, if she was being totally honest with herself, only modestly attractive. Violet had always cast Flora into shadow whenever she was around; she was just one of those people with a natural joie de vivre that drew people to her.

  Men, particularly.

  An uncomfortable tightness had formed in Flora’s throat and she coughed to clear it as Alex finally returned to the table with her cider and a pint of lager for himself.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, forcing her mouth into a smile as she took her drink from him.

  He gave her a nod and sat down in the chair opposite. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’ he asked.

  She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll have something when I get home.’ She really didn’t fancy eating here. Their table looked as though it hadn’t been wiped in ages, which didn’t give her much confidence in the state of the kitchen.

  Picking up her drink, she took a few good gulps of it. The alcohol warmed her as it rushed down her throat to her stomach, lifting her spirits a little.

  ‘So how long have you been living in Bath?’ she asked, watching him knock back half of his own pint in one go.

  His eyes met hers and she saw a reaction in them that she couldn’t quite decipher. Wariness, maybe?

  ‘Just over a year. I was in London for a long time, but then I got together with the band I play with now. They’re mostly based in Bath, so it made sense to move here so I could practise with them more easily.’

  ‘Amy told me you play jazz.’ She hadn’t meant that to sound so derisive, but she’d never understood the lure of jazz and couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to listen to it every day, let alone make a career out of playing it.

  A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but he didn’t pick up on her disparaging tone. ‘Yeah, we specialise in thirties-inspired jazz and blues, but sometimes we give our sets a more modern slant if we’re in the mood and the occasion calls for it.’

  ‘And how’s it all going?’ she asked, this time making sure to keep her tone upbeat. ‘Is it fulfilling? How do you make it lucrative? Do you play at weddings and parties?’

  He gave her a look that made her stomach clench with discomfort.

  ‘It’s not all about the money for me.’ He rested his arms on the table. ‘Look, I know jazz isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s worth giving it a chance before you write it off,’ he said bluntly.

  She wondered whether there was an underlying meaning to that. Don’t write me off until you know me better, perhaps. He had a point, she supposed. It was wrong of her to judge before she had all the facts.

  ‘Perhaps I could come to one of your gigs some time?’ she said, trying to pull back favour.

  He nodded and smiled in a manner that made her think he was just humouring her. His food arrived then and he thanked the server, then tucked straight into it as if he’d not eaten in days.

  This wasn’t exactly going how she’d planned. She’d really not expected him to be like this: so...blasé. If she so much as thought about Amy, her whole body flooded with a heavy sort of dread and she had to think about work or something practical so as not to start welling up.

  There was a good chance he was burying his pain though, so she needed to be patient and vigilant—ready to support him as and when he needed her.

  ‘You okay?’ Alex asked after finishing the last bite of his food, his satisfied expression morphing into a worried frown.

  She realised with a start that she’d been staring at him.

  ‘Fine. Just thinking about my week at work,’ she lied.

  ‘Want to tell me about it?’ he asked, though she could tell from the edge in his voice that he was really hoping she wouldn’t.

  Pushing aside a sting of hurt, she shook her head. She didn’t want him to know how difficult she was finding it to impress her new boss. ‘I’d rather just forget about it,’ she said, picking up her drink and taking a few more gulps of it for courage.

  He nodded but didn’t say anything.

  ‘So when is your next gig?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational.

  ‘In a couple of weeks,’ he said, spinning his now-empty glass between his hands and glowering into the distance, as if picturing it unfavourably.

  ‘You know, I really would love to come,’ she said.

  He turned to shoot her a look of deep scepticism. ‘I got the impression it wasn’t your type of music.’

  She felt her face heat, embarrassed now by how dismissive her tone had been. ‘Yes, well, perhaps I should give jazz a chance.’ This struck her as funny for some reason. ‘Hey, you should work up a marketing campaign w
ith that as your strapline. Give jazz a chance.’ She guffawed at her own joke, but for some reason Alex didn’t seem to find it funny.

  Grump.

  ‘But seriously,’ she said, rearranging her features back into a sober expression. ‘I really would like to come and support you.’

  ‘Well, that’s very selfless of you, Flora, but I’m afraid the gig’s sold out.’

  ‘Oh.’ This news shocked her. Perhaps he was more successful than she’d realised. She squinted at him suspiciously. Or was he just telling her that because he didn’t want her there?

  ‘Can’t you get hold of extra tickets as one of the band members?’ she asked. Surely he’d be able to swing something? She really wanted to show him some solidarity. She felt sure Amy would have approved of that.

  ‘Nope. Sorry. I’ve already given all of mine away,’ he said, standing up so suddenly it made her start. ‘I’m going to the bar again—want another one?’ he asked, nodding to her much-depleted drink.

  ‘Well, I shouldn’t—’ she hedged. The alcohol had already had quite an effect on her, making everything look a little hazy and causing her to slur her words a little, but it was plain he was determined to have another and she didn’t want to leave just yet ‘—but hey, it’s Saturday, so why not?’

  He gave her a curt nod and headed over to the bar without another word.

  His denial of her request for a ticket to his gig still stung and she pondered how to get him to stop resisting her attempts at being friendly.

  What would Amy have done?

  She probably would have been upfront about the things he was trying to conceal and forced him to discuss them. But could she really talk to Alex like that without getting his back up? She didn’t have Amy’s light touch and easy wit—the woman could have talked the birds down from the trees—and she didn’t want to blow her chance of getting closer to him.

  It was obvious that he needed a friend right now though, judging by the way he wasn’t taking care of his appearance.