Scott flinched. ‘I was protecting you,’ he whispered, miserably.
‘Bollocks,’ she spat. ‘I make my choices, Scott!’
Another tiny tear escaped from Scott’s eye. ‘I’m sorry.’ Then, when Leah made no reply, ‘Where’s your pilot now?’
‘Back where he belongs,’ she admitted.
Like magic, Scott’s face cleared. ‘Good! Oh, hell, but honestly, Leah, he’s a father, for fuck’s sake. A proper dependable adult with ties and responsibilities he’d want you to share. If you hooked up with him you’d be like a mum. He’d want you to go on family picnics instead of track days and he probably doesn’t understand Formula 1.’ He laughed. ‘You can’t half pick ’em, girl! But that’s you, isn’t it, always with the chemical reaction instead of common sense … hey, where are you going?’ The relief that had burst over his face morphed into dismay as Leah began to back towards the door.
Tears burned in her eyes but she managed a wobbly smile. ‘Wherever I choose.’ She threw up a hand to ward Scott off as he made an impetuous move towards her. ‘Building in failure to my relationships has become second nature to you. You’ve just shown me how unhealthy our friendship was and how negatively you’ve been influencing me. Because, actually, I can “pick ’em”. Or one at least.’
‘But Leah–!’ Scott pleaded, scurrying behind her as she flung open his front door, his skin pink and sweaty and terror in his eyes. ‘I have feelings for you,’ he almost wailed. ‘Proper feelings, all right? And before you tell me it won’t work, I know! I know I’m wrong for you because of my orientation. That’s why I’ve done what I’ve done.’
Leah’s heart didn’t melt for him but she felt a new sadness as she realised his confession, his last roll of the dice, the confession he’d probably had to rip out from his deepest hidden places, didn’t actually change anything. ‘I’m sorry, Scottie. You’re right that it won’t work but it’s nothing to do with your orientation. Loads of bisexual people are happily monogamous. If you know you couldn’t be faithful to me then there’s something else getting in the way. And–’
She took a deep breath. ‘I only ever loved you as a friend. No amount of trickery or manipulation will give me feelings for you that I don’t have. I’m sorry.’
Chapter Thirty
Ronan answered the door in his Buzz Sightseer uniform after an air tour along the Thames in the late autumn sun. When he saw who was standing on his doorstep his heart gave a giant leap but his body stayed absolutely still.
Her golden-brown hair writhed in the wind as her eyes travelled over his pressed black trousers and the crisp white shirt. ‘You scrub up well but I kind of miss the shoulder brace.’
‘If you’ve got a thing about uniforms the bad news is I’ll be made redundant on Friday.’ He stepped back to allow her in.
Though her eyes widened sympathetically Leah stayed where she was. ‘You didn’t tell me.’
‘I’d told you enough to be going on with.’ He edged a bit further back.
She still didn’t move. ‘Selina …?’
‘Has moved into a rental.’
Leah nodded slowly. The gold lights in her eyes glittered in the sun. ‘Will Curtis be living with her?’
Apprehension gnawed at Ronan’s belly. Was this the deal-breaker? The final hurdle he was about to fall at? ‘Just as before. He’ll live here sometimes, there sometimes.’
Leah nodded again. Then, to his relief, she stepped through the door. ‘Sounds good.’
He led the way to the sitting room and waited while she shucked off her coat and sat down. If he spoke first he might spout about how much he’d missed her and how many times he’d nearly phoned or jumped into the car. Or even chartered a helicopter.
He focused on her hands, laced in her lap. No long, painted nails, like Selina’s. He supposed they didn’t really go with working with food.
‘How’s your new job?’ he asked.
‘A definite step up from the old one. More responsibility and creativity. More money. The facilities are amazing.’
‘Oh,’ he replied, hollowly. ‘That’s fantastic. Congratulations.’
‘Thank you. I hope you find another job you like soon.’
‘I’ve got my feelers out already.’
The polite little conversation ground to a halt.
In the silence, Leah’s hands clenched and unclenched. ‘On the way here I composed a whole speech but now I’ve seen you, I can’t remember it.’
He watched her, the jumble of emotions flitting across her face as if she were surprised to find herself here, even maybe a little aggrieved. But there was something else in her eyes when she looked at him, something like happiness. It made him smile to imagine her tussling with herself. ‘I probably know it. Would I sulk when you go on track days? No, I wouldn’t. Do I realise the only way to watch Formula 1 is in silence? Yes, I do.’
Her smile flickered. ‘Glad we’ve got the basics down.’
‘And I’ll understand if you’ve forgiven Scott whatever chicanery he’s been up to. He’s your friend.’
Sadness stole into her eyes. ‘Was. Turns out he’s been euthanising my relationships. It’s not that I’m no good at them, it’s that he’s brilliant at making me believe I’m not. If teasing and manipulation didn’t do the trick he transposed a few characters in the appropriate contacts listing, to make sure.’
His heart twisted and he felt no satisfaction in murmuring, ‘I thought it must be something like that.’
‘Effectively, he’s been making choices for me. Turns out, that’s what’s made me angriest with him.’ Tentatively, she edged closer.
Pulse stepping up its rhythm at the prospect of their bodies making contact, he lifted his arm so that she could slide up against him. He chose his words carefully, as if she were a wild animal, ready to vanish in a flash if he put a foot wrong. ‘You know how I feel about you making your own choices.’
She raised her eyes to his, golden and honest. ‘Do I still have the choice you offered me, for us not to be just for the holidays?’
Mouth suddenly dry, he nodded.
Her solemn gaze didn’t waver. ‘Then that’s what I choose.’
His heart began thundering so hard he could hardly hear his own voice. ‘But you know I’m tied to this area for Curtis’s sake for some years to come?’
‘That’s a hard one,’ she acknowledged, sighing. ‘My family, my job, they’re important. Just not as important as you! Whether we decide on a long-distance relationship or whether I relocate down here sooner or later, however much time we spend together and apart, you’re the one.’
It was everything he’d yearned to hear yet he seemed totally unable to stop giving her excuses to backtrack. ‘It’s massive for you. You’d be the one doing all the giving up.’
The smile returned. ‘Is there something wrong with your hearing? I want my job, my family, my home and my liberty but I want you more. I’m choosing you over being single! Everything else will fall into place somehow. There are other jobs and my family will be at the other end of a car journey. You’ll owe me, obviously,’ she added teasingly. ‘Be amazing in bed. That kind of thing.’
He felt a huge smile taking charge of his face. ‘I’ll pay that price.’ His hands, as if exercising muscle memory, slid down to curve around her bottom and pull her against him as he took her mouth, soft and wanting under his.
With a moan of welcome she wrapped herself around him, making it natural for his hands to reverse their direction and find their way inside her top, impatient for the heat of her skin.
Then a bang at the front door heralded a clamour of adolescent boys’ voices in the hall.
‘Hell’s bells,’ Ronan hissed.
Leah began to giggle, yanking her top to its proper position as she jumped away to create a decorous distance between them.
‘Dad?’ shouted Curtis’s voice. ‘Can Jack and Noodle sleep over? Their mums say it’s all right.’ His head appeared around the sitting room door. ‘Hey! L
eah!’ He glanced rapidly around the room. ‘Natasha here?’
Leah jumped up to give him a hug. ‘Great to see you, Curtis. I’ve missed you! Sorry I haven’t brought Natasha this time. I’ll bring her soon.’
His face fell. ‘OK. We’ll go and play on the Xbox then, right?’ A clattering on the stairs suggested his friends were already blazing the trail to the holy Xbox grail.
‘Right,’ Ronan agreed easily, marvelling that his still crazy heartbeat wasn’t making his voice shake.
But Curtis ventured further into the room. ‘Or how about a bake off, Leah? Jack and Noodle totally like food tech. We could show them mug cakes.’
Leah’s eyes were dancing. ‘Do you think you have the ingredients here?’
Curtis pulled a dubious face. ‘Probably not. We need chocolate with high cocoa solids and good quality cocoa powder, right? Have we got any self-raising flour, Dad?’
Ronan pulled out his wallet and extracted a twenty. ‘Not a speck. Why don’t you, Jack and Noodle go to the supermarket for what you need?’
‘Cool beans.’ Curtis grinned as he finally exited through the door.
Ronan slid back up the sofa and dipped his head to touch Leah’s earlobe with his tongue. ‘Despite the teenage invasion I’m still a good choice.’ He didn’t know if he was reassuring her or himself.
But Curtis returned. ‘Leah, what’s good chocolate and cocoa powder here in England?’
‘Green & Black’s? Or Lindt.’ Leah’s voice sounded strained, as if she were bursting to laugh from within the cage of Ronan’s arms.
‘OK.’ Once more Curtis made as if to leave. But then didn’t. His gaze travelled over them, Ronan frozen half-curled around Leah. ‘So are you, like, Dad’s girlfriend, now, Leah?’
Ronan held his breath.
‘Just discussing it,’ she said tentatively. ‘How would you feel?’
‘Cool.’ Curtis sounded surprised that anyone would think anything else. And finally he quit the room, hollering for Jack and Noodle ‘because Leah’s going to help us make totally amazing chocolate mug cakes and we need to buy stuff. What? Oh, she’s Dad’s girlfriend.’
‘Hear that?’ Ronan whispered, tracing her breast through her clothes, feeling her nipple tighten beneath his fingertip. ‘We’ve been approved.’
Another clatter on the stairs. ‘Laters!’ Curtis shouted.
Ronan had barely dragged Leah into a proper deep kiss when his phone rang. Swearing, he saw Curtis on the screen. ‘Yes?’ he answered tersely, resisting the urge to snap, ‘What now?’
‘Can I get marshmallows?’
‘Yes.’
Leah was giggling again as he ended the call. He looked down at her ruefully, this beautiful woman in his arms. ‘I am a good choice. I am.’
She dropped her hand casually in his lap. ‘You are. And everything you bring along.’
‘I want to remind you how good,’ he breathed, absolutely not wanting her to move her hand away but knowing the realities of the situation. ‘But I know Curtis’s long legs will eat up the distance he has to cover too quickly to allow me to make love to you now the way I want to make love to you.’
‘Later,’ she agreed, the golden glints in her eyes bright in the late autumn sunlight streaming in through the window as she gazed into his eyes. ‘I’ll still choose you.’
When the lads returned with bulging supermarket bags Leah had little choice but to pretend she wasn’t aching for Ronan to make good on his promises and instead quickly find her way around his kitchen. It was very functional – a microwave, an oven, an easy-to-clean induction hob, a huge fridge-freezer and a basic collection of utensils.
‘So, what do we do first, Curtis?’ she tested him.
‘Wash our hands,’ Curtis sighed. ‘And, Noodle, you’ll have to tie your hair back. Jack’s is OK ’cos it’s short like a bog brush.’
Jack grinned, as if being a bog brush was a compliment, while Noodle, who rocked a short-on-the-left-long-on-the-right style, said, ‘Right,’ agreeably and secured his hair with a twist-tie from the kitchen drawer.
It was surreal to lead them through the same kind of ‘bake off’ she had so often with Jordan and Natasha, addressing each of them as ‘chef’ and allocating hands-on roles while her heart boinged about her chest every time she caught the heat in Ronan’s eyes.
Ronan had elected himself cameraman and filmed with his phone, interjecting the occasional, ‘So, Chef, what are we doing here?’
When he turned the camera on Leah she laughed and blew him a kiss, filled with a sense of rightness. Of belonging.
‘So, you’ll bring Natasha soon then, right?’ Curtis brushed aside their flirting as he sieved flour so enthusiastically that his black combats turned grey.
‘Soon,’ Leah promised.
Curtis looked contented as he reached for the cocoa powder. ‘You staying over tonight?’
Leah glanced at Ronan in alarm, hoping he could magically signal the right reply. But Ronan was looking no surer of the situation than she was, one eyebrow quirked, phone forgotten in his hand. Obviously this was another learning curve she had to hit without training, regardless of Noodle and Jack forming an interested audience. She peeped into Curtis’s face, heart fluttering. ‘How would you feel about it?’
He shrugged. ‘Will you make breakfast tomorrow?’
And suddenly she knew that it was going to be all right. When you came right down to it, you could manage any situation via food. ‘Eggs and bacon.’
‘Awesome!’
Behind Curtis’s back, Ronan, smile blazing, mouthed, ‘Love you.’
Without even having to think about it, she mouthed, ‘Love you back.’
‘Yuck, not in the kitchen!’ Curtis grumbled.
Leah laughed. And then the first mug was ready for the microwave and she had to concentrate on the important stuff. Chocolate cake.
Acknowledgements
I’m glad to have this opportunity to thank everybody who played a role in bringing Just for the Holidays to life. I’m so grateful for their time.
Andrea Crellin, during one of our evenings at the Kino, reduced me to tears of laughter about her holiday from hell and didn’t bat an eye when I asked to borrow a little from her story. Andrea was also very helpful with information about the teaching profession and its obligations.
Julie Shardlow not only welcomed me into her home in Alsace for several days but also entered into the research process with gusto, introducing me to Strasbourg, coypu and (too much) local alcohol and cuisine. This story would have been set in the Dordogne if I hadn’t suddenly remembered Julie saying ‘Come and stay any time’. For added local knowledge, Julie also introduced me to Corinne Huchet who was so kind as to read my manuscript for stray facts and French language errors.
David Roberts shared his knowledge on medical matters; Rosemary J Kind and Eilidh McGuinness did the same on matrimonial.
A special mention for Martin Lovell of SkyTech Helicopters who advised on all things related to Ronan’s career and the hard landing he suffered. He introduced me to Matthew Bolshaw, who kindly shared his extensive knowledge of aviation insurance, and aviation medical examiner Dr Kevin Herbert, who helped me make Ronan’s injury what it should be and advised on the pilot/AME relationship.
Martin Lovell also generously treated me to the flight of my life. See the bonus material at the back of this book for more!
Pat Walsh allowed me to give Alister her leg injury and advised on the recovery process.
A variety of Facebook friends obliged with information on annoying teenspeak, Goths, hair dye and school attitudes to certain student behaviours.
Scott Matthewson bid generously at an auction in support of Narcolepsy UK for the opportunity to have a character named after him. As the real Scott Matthewson is a barrister I wasn’t entirely comfortable with his invitation to make ‘my’ Scott Matthewson a villain but I had fun and I hope that the real Scott enjoys the result.
Beta readers Mark West and Dominic
White did their usual great job with an early draft of the book, asking awkward questions and making pithy observations that enabled me to make the next draft better. I never tire of this process.
Fabulous Juliet Pickering of the Blake Friedmann Literary, TV & Film Agency is everything an author could possibly ask for in an agent. Her support is there for the asking and her advice on point. She also understands the importance of champagne.
Helen Huthwaite, my lovely editor, gathered the fantastic team at Avon Books behind me with fabulous results such as #1 spot in the Kindle chart for my last book, The Christmas Promise. (No pressure everybody, but please could we do that again?)
Thanks as always to Team Sue Moorcroft members who are tireless in their support of me and their advocacy of my books, and Manda Jane Ward for naming Curtis. I’m constantly amazed and humbled by this. (If you think you might like to be involved in the street team you can discover more at www.suemoorcroft.com.)
I’m grateful to, and in awe of, the incredible book bloggers who do a tireless job of supporting authors and their books. Their community is amazing. I could talk to book bloggers all day – and, at blogger/author meet ups, frequently do. Thank you for reviewing my books and inviting me onto your blogs.
I’m lucky to be part of an awesome family, evidenced by the number of my books dedicated to its various members. We frequently communicate with insults and mickey-taking but I’m not joking when I say how much I appreciate their love and support. Especially when they sell my books to their friends.
Most importantly, thank you, the readers, for whom I spend hours every day, shut away, making stuff up. Thank you for buying my books, for the lovely reviews and for the wonderful comments and messages on social media.
There are few things that give me more pleasure than people enjoying my books.
The Lengths a Novelist Will Go To …
When I posted on Facebook that I was beyond excited because a pilot was going to take me up in a helicopter and pretend to crash it, I received around 70 comments.
Just for the Holidays Page 31