Love In Store Books 1-3: Collection of three sweet and clean Christian romances with a London setting: The Wedding List, Believe in Me, & A Model Bride

by Autumn Macarthur

  “I've never been skating,” Cara admitted.

  “Never? Don't feel you have to. If you're scared or don't like the idea, I'll let you off. We can have a hot drink in the refreshment tent and watch everyone else skate. The Tiffany trimmed tree is the thing that makes this part of the dare.”

  She squared her shoulders and shook her head. “Don’t let me wimp out. I want to try. But be ready to scrape me off the ice when I fall over.”

  “I won't let you fall.”

  Nick hoped his confidence wasn't misguided. It had been years since Skating With The Stars.

  Cara shivered. “I didn’t realise how cold it would be.”

  The ice-chilled breeze ruffled her hair around her pale face.

  “It doesn’t feel so cold when you’re skating. But I have something for you.” He handed her the parcel he’d carried in his messenger bag.

  She opened it. “The rainbow hat and gloves you bought at Covent Garden. Aren’t you sneaky. I thought they were for one of your sisters.” She smiled up at him, an adorable real smile. “Thank you.”

  Again it felt wonderful to have guessed the little things that would please her.

  He pulled the hat onto her head, tucking loose wisps of hair underneath. The glossy strands felt as soft and silky under his fingers as he'd imagined. “There, that will look perfect for the photographs.”

  She looked around. “I almost forgot. Where is he?”

  He pointed to Mac, leaning against the wall near the coffee stand. Probably he’d already snapped a few shots. Most likely, there were other paps at the rink too. Plenty of rich and famous people came here.

  Cara smiled and waved. Mac raised a hand in acknowledgement.

  Nick laughed. “You’re a pro at the publicity stuff now. I’ll take a few selfies, as well. Have to feed the social media beast. Then I'd better go around the rink by myself first, to get the feel for it. Otherwise we’ll both need scraping off the ice.”

  Once on the rink, his feet remembered how to move. He went faster the second time around. Flying over the ice again reminded him how much he loved it.

  He circled back to where Cara stood waiting.

  “Ready to go? Skates tied up tight?”

  She nodded, and stepped cautiously onto the ice.

  Both hands clenched on the rail. “Help me, Nick.” Her eyes held entreaty.

  He slipped an arm around her waist, hoping she wouldn’t realise that holding her made him weak as a day-old kitten. His support needed to be rock solid.

  “Let go with one hand, hold this arm.”

  Her fingers dug into the arm he held in front of her.

  “Stand up straighter, with your knees bent. Well done. Now the scary bit. Let go of the rail. You have to trust me, or trust the rail. You can't have both.”

  She hesitated a moment, then let go of the rail.

  Her grip on his arm tightened, but she’d done it. She trusted him.

  Thank You Lord!

  It felt like Christmas and his birthday and Thanksgiving all at once as gratitude flooded him. He grinned so wide his face hurt.

  “Hold your free arm out for balance.” He smiled reassurance and patted the hand clinging to his arm. “Let's go.”

  He pushed off gently and slowly. Cara glided with him.

  After the second round, confidence gained, she begged him to go a little faster.

  After ten, she begged him to stop.

  “Nick, it's wonderful. Thank you. But my ankles ache. I'll sit out now. You keep skating on your own.”

  He steered to the exit and handed her safely on to solid ground.

  “You did well, honey.” The endearment slipped out so naturally. “Are you sure you’re okay if I go round some more?”

  She nodded, and he took off with a wave.

  Now for some speed. He loved moving fast on the ice, though it meant he'd hit harder if he fell.

  Exactly like relationships.

  He'd never let himself go far and fast there, for fear of falling. He broke up before anyone got serious, made sure no-one had any hard feelings. A way of avoiding the grief that truly is the price of love.

  But he'd missed out too.

  He was booked to leave London in a week. Yet Cara stirred feelings in him he’d never felt for another woman.

  She had him wondering if Mr Unattached could do forever, after all.

  And whether he wanted to take the risk.

  ~~+~~

  Cara watched Nick skate effortlessly around the rink, gathering speed and weaving between slower skaters. Was he good at everything?

  She’d been like that in her teens, skimming easily over the surface of life.

  If only her life could be like that now, an easy slide away from anything she didn't want. She’d leave all the hurt and guilt and responsibility behind.

  Once she'd relaxed and trusted him, she'd loved gliding over the ice on his arm. For those few lovely minutes, she'd been happy. Nothing else had mattered apart from being there with Nick.

  But life wasn't an ice skate. Some things were too big and too difficult to slide over or around.

  There was no point wishing things different.

  Nick looked over at her, smiled, and did a flourishing turn. She lifted her hands in the air and silently clapped. He grinned like a big kid.

  He'd been inventive, coming up with fun takes on the lyrics in the song. What were the chances of there actually being a Christmas tree trimmed with Tiffany in London?

  Wondering what came next, she ran through the lyrics, humming under her breath.

  Believe in me.... A ring?

  He was giving her experiences, not things. He'd probably take her to a circus. Circuses had rings. Maybe this date counted as the ring too. He’d skated rings around her on the ice.

  A ridiculous image flashed into her mind.

  Nick handing her a real ring. Proposing.

  That wouldn’t happen. Permanence wasn't his style. She’d seen the gossip columns, all the girls he’d been linked with over the years. If he hadn’t chosen any of those beautiful and talented women, why should he pick ordinary her?

  Sorrow at the thought of never seeing him again coiled in her gut. Being shown all she'd missed wasn't necessarily a good thing. Once this brief interlude ended, and she went back to her old life, she'd miss the joy and laughter he’d given her even more.

  If her life since Mum died had been a black and white movie, Nick added Technicolour. Spreading her hands, she looked at the rainbow gloves he’d bought her. She would have chosen grey.

  Going back to monochrome wouldn’t be easy.

  At least she had a few more days, a few more dates. The song wasn’t done yet.

  Nick did a leap and a twirl, before snowploughing to a halt in front of her in a spray of ice powder.

  She laughed.

  “Show off.”

  Nick smiled. “Yes. But I love it. Do you want another turn?”

  Cara gingerly stood, and stepped onto the ice. She took Nick's arm and immediately let go of the wall. She knew now, she could trust him.

  He started slowly, then gained speed. They were flying across the ice, exhilarating and joyful.

  He stopped her in the centre of the rink.

  “Let go of my arm now. I'll stay next to you, but you need to do it on your own, so you know you can.”

  Cara tensed and tightened her grip. Without Nick's support, the ice seemed a much more dangerous place.

  “You don't have to,” Nick said. “But it will be better for your confidence next time.”

  She doubted there'd be a next time, but she released her grip.

  Nick smiled approval. “Good girl. Now baby steps. March in place but let yourself move forward.”

  She did.

  And impossible though it felt, she skated on her own. Nick stayed right in front of her, facing her, encouraging her. She sensed his readiness to catch her if she needed him.

  The pride in doing it by herself felt good. The admirati
on in Nick's eyes felt even better.

  Then, out of nowhere, shame slammed her, saying she had no reason to feel proud of herself, ever.

  She tensed up, and lost her balance, windmilling her arms uselessly. Like it was happening in slow motion, she felt herself falling. She'd smash on the ice, she knew it, and she was helpless to stop it happening.

  Somehow, Nick's supportive arms slid around her, holding her up, keeping her safe. How she didn't fall and pull him down too she didn't know.

  “I can't do this anymore.” Her voice sounded panicked. She knew she was overreacting, but she couldn't control it.

  Nick was already skating her to solid ground, talking soothingly as they went. “It's okay. You’re fine. Don’t worry, Cara. You did great.”

  Her hands shook too much to undo the tightly tied laces on her boots. Nick did it for her, as if she was a child.

  It wasn't just the near-fall shaking her up. Nick's closeness and kindness had a far stronger effect on her.

  Kindness she didn’t believe she deserved, no matter how she tried.

  Nick wasn’t the problem. She was.

  Even if Nick was staying, she didn’t deserve a man as wonderful as him.

  She struggled to smile, to reply, to act as if her world hadn't tilted crazily on its axis. The guilt she’d tried to forget and leave behind her wouldn’t let go. The helplessness she’d felt in that unbalanced moment was her punishment for daring to hope she could escape it.

  A reminder of the helplessness she’d felt when Dad left. And the even deeper helplessness when she’d found Mum unconscious, that last Christmas morning, the day she died. The time to help had been before that happened, and she hadn’t.

  No amount of rainbow hats would brighten that bleak guilt.

  “I want to buy you a cupcake, so I can say I’ve bought you something from Tiffany,” Nick said, with a concerned and questioning smile.

  He must think she was crazy, dramatising a simple trip on the ice like this. She hadn’t even fallen.

  “I don’t think I could eat anything.” She tried hard to smile, to act normally. “But I'll buy one each for my office staff to have for morning tea tomorrow.”

  Nick didn’t argue. “At least let me pay.”

  She nodded. It wasn’t worth making an issue about him paying for a few cakes. And the girls would love to know the cupcakes were a gift from him.

  Nick led her into the Tiffany shop, shaped like a huge wrapped gift box in aqua blue.

  She chose three different colours from the pretty pastel cupcakes, and took the beautiful ribbon tied parcel the salesperson carefully packed them into.

  “Merry Christmas,” the girl said with a smile.

  Cara forced a smile in return. She didn’t feel like celebrating.

  All Christmas meant was that Nick would be gone and she’d be left with the ghosts of Christmases Past, the same old aching memories and regrets.

  She recalled the verse on the 9/11 memorial. Losing Nick didn’t compare to losing a loved one in a terrorist attack. Her logical mind knew that. But right now, in her heart, that was how it felt.

  If grief was the price of love, then love just sent her the bill.

  Chapter 16

  Cara planned to evade Nick at work the following day.

  Between the excellent weekend sales figures, Mrs Pettett’s rare approval at the Monday meeting, sorting out a mix-up with deliveries, and organising a special treat for Christmas Eve shoppers, she kept herself busy.

  Not busy enough to avoid her thoughts, unfortunately.

  All she could think about was Nick, and seeing him again this evening.

  She gave her office staff the cupcakes from the ice rink, and thought of him. She dealt with the usual endless stream of emails, and thought of him. She tallied her accounts, and thought of him.

  The girls loved their cupcakes, but were far more interested in the photos of her and Nick skating together, plastered all over the morning papers and half the Internet. She’d fielded plenty of knowing looks from the department heads at the meeting, too.

  The more she protested that there was nothing going on, that the dates were only what they’d planned it to be, a publicity stunt for the store, the less people believed her.

  Because anyone who saw the photos knew she wasn’t telling the whole truth. The love she’d never wanted him to guess she felt for him was there in the photo, glowing in her eyes, as she gazed up at him on the ice.

  The thought of seeing him tonight half thrilled her and half made her want to curl up in a little ball and die of embarrassment.

  He’d be kind, of course, but she couldn’t bear seeing the inevitable pity in his eyes. A man who could date the world’s most beautiful and talented women wasn’t going to choose a drab mouse of a girl like her.

  But there was no point trying to convince people they weren’t a couple.

  Everyone would know the truth once Nick went home and she went back to her old grey self. All she had to do was get through the next few days until Christmas, then start trying to forget him.

  Making sure she wasn’t alone with him would help. It was time to leave the store, and she’d managed not to see him all day.

  Tonight, they had to meet, but she’d texted, asking him to meet her at the homeless shelter rather than at her office. That gave her half an hour less to have to hide her feelings.

  Seeing the men and women at the shelter would stop her feeling sorry for herself. People with mental health problems or addictions. Veterans. Older folk. Drinkers. Teenagers kicked out their homes, or running from abuse.

  She had it easy compared to them.

  The first thing she thought as she walked through the bright blue doors, was how the shelter could have been a depressing place, yet it wasn’t. So many things combined to make the place a surprising joy to visit. The cheerful decor, the exuberant artwork created in the workshops there, the friendly volunteers, and the attitude of most of the occupants.

  As soon as she signed in at the front desk, she searched out William, and found him helping set tables in the dining room.

  “Cara, my dear!” he exclaimed, his tired old eyes taking on a new gleam. “How lovely to see you.”

  She took a handful of cutlery from the tray he carried and they worked together.

  He’d scrubbed up well.

  In fact, he’d begun to look more like the fine old gentleman she was sure he’d once been, his appearance now much more of a match for his rather formal speech. His smile showed off a set of brand new teeth that transformed his looks completely.

  Wearing nice trousers and a dress shirt, and with a smile to be proud of, he looked a new man. Or perhaps, more like his old self, the man he’d been before whatever happened that drove him to the streets.

  The sight of him warmed her heart. Maybe, for once, she’d genuinely helped someone. All she did at the suicide helpline was more number crunching. That didn’t count.

  “William, new teeth! They look great!”

  He grinned widely. “I’m pleased. Having such dreadful teeth was mortifying. Unfortunately, where I’d been living, dentistry was rather hard to access. I expected a gummy wait of several weeks to get dentures, but they gave me these straight away.”

  “You can eat already?”

  “Soft food for a few days, but by Christmas Day I’ll be able to enjoy a fine dinner.”

  He looked to the door. “Ah, I rather suspect this is your young man.” His clouded eyes twinkled.

  Nick, gorgeous in a chunky black roll neck sweater and jeans, headed across the room towards them. Her heart betrayed her with a jump at the sight of him.

  “Not my young man. Just a friend,” she said firmly.

  Cara introduced them. She guessed from William’s shrewd glances he’d put two and two together and made five, but she didn’t bother to correct him. She and Nick knew they’d done the charade only for the store, but in everyone else’s eyes, they’d be a couple until Nick went home.

&
nbsp; “I’ve just volunteered my entire family to help out on Christmas Day,” Nick said. “I hope they like it.”

  “Well, dear boy, that will be a lovely introduction to London for them.” William smiled, showing off those perfect new teeth. “Not being sarcastic, there are some jolly nice people in here.”

  Nick grinned. “I’m sure there are. Mom’s mother was a war bride, born and raised in London, so it will be coming back to her roots for her. Dad’s a pastor, he is thrilled to be helping rather than carrying shopping bags for the girls. My sisters are stuck with it, whether they like it or not.”

  “Jolly good.” William squinted at him. “I must say, you look rather familiar. Should I know you? I’m afraid the old memory isn’t quite what it used to be.”

  “I’m an actor. You might have seen me on the television. Or even in the newspapers.” He broke off to wink at Cara.

  That wink should be illegal. The effect it had on her was certainly criminal.

  “What about you, William?” She rushed into speech to cover up her reaction. “What work did you do when you were younger?”

  The older man hesitated and gave her a measuring glance before answering. “Once upon a time, I was part of a London department store. So I’m very much looking forward to seeing the inside of Pettett and Mayfield’s and seeing how things have changed in retail.”

  “I’ll love giving you the grand tour of the store on Christmas Eve.” Homeless he might be, but she’d make sure he got treatment fit for a VIP visitor.

  “I’ll join you, if I may,” Nick said.

  Cara wrinkled her nose. Avoiding Nick until Christmas wasn’t going to be so easy.

  She’d started to wonder if she wanted to. If heartbreak was inevitable, why not make the most of the little time she had left with him by appreciating it to the max?

  “Wonderful! I look forward to seeing you both there,” William said.

  Emphasis on the ‘both’.

  He rubbed his hands together like their own personal matchmaker.

  And in a way, he had been. Nick had only noticed her because she’d stopped to give William her breakfast.

  Not that they were a match.