If Kisses Were Snowflakes

by Serenity Woods

  Her eyes widened. “Holy shit. Really!”

  He chuckled. “Yeah, I’m not proud of it, but... well, okay, I am proud of it, but it wasn’t a good example for the kids. He’s my boss, until I can find another job. I’ve learned to keep my mouth shut and do my best to look the other way, but it’s not easy.”

  It sounded like the understatement of the year. She could only imagine how hard this was for him. “I’m so sorry,” she said. “You’re a lovely man, and you deserve so much more than that.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Angel closed her hand over Hal’s again, her skin warm, her touch reassuring. Hal studied her dark eyes, wondering why she had such a calming influence on him. His stomach had been roiling ever since he’d left Berwick, churning like the North Sea, but it was starting to settle now.

  “What did you say today that you regretted?” she asked.

  He sighed and played with the beermat. “Rebecca said, ‘He’s not you.’”

  “She meant Charles?”

  “Yes. She said she missed me, and it made me angry.”

  Angel withdrew her hand and tipped her head to the side. “You think she still loves you?”

  “She likes being placed on a pedestal, and I’m sure she thought Charles would be all over her, but maybe he’s smarter than I gave him credit for. She thought he would be an easy ride, but it could be he’s not giving her as much money as she hoped.” He shrugged. “I don’t care, I don’t want to think about it.”

  “Do you still love her?”

  He met Angel’s eyes again. They were clear and calm—she wasn’t accusing him of being with her under false pretenses; she just wanted to know. It made him realize how he was used to looking beneath the surface of a sentence for the real meaning that had inevitably lurked in the depths. It was refreshing to be with someone who wore her heart on her sleeve.

  “She’ll always be the mother of my children,” he said.

  “Of course.”

  “But I don’t have feelings for her anymore, not in that way.”

  “You’re sure? Even if she left Charles and begged you to come back?”

  “No,” he said, meaning it. She’d cheated on him, and he would never be able to forgive her for that. And anyway, he wasn’t sure he’d ever truly loved her the way a husband should love a wife. They’d had nothing in common save their children, and hadn’t shared the sort of loving relationship he’d seen in other couples, including his parents. He’d enjoyed having her on his arm, showing her off, seeing the envy on other men’s faces. It was extremely shallow, and he was ashamed of himself, because she deserved better than that. “She said I had a heart of ice. I’m done with her making me feel like I’m cold and unfeeling. We’re done.”

  Angel nodded, and then she smiled, lighting up her whole face. Hal couldn’t help but return it. Jesus, what a couple they were. Both damaged, both carrying baggage they needed a cart to transport. And yet it was Christmas Eve, they were warm and safe, the tide was on its way in, and soon they would be adrift in the ocean, cut off from the rest of the world.

  “Enough about the past,” he said. He was tired of feeling ashamed, of reminding himself of all the things he could have done better. Angel was right—it was time they both moved on. “Let’s talk about us.”

  She smiled shyly. “Okay.”

  “So come on, tell me what kind of job you’re looking for.”

  They talked for a while about archaeology, and Hal gradually began to relax again, as they discussed various sites they’d visited, and museums they’d been to. Angel was a little rusty, but her knowledge soon came flooding back, and her enthusiasm for the subject lit her eyes. She knew far more than he did about pre-Norman-conquest England, and he felt a stirring deep within him at the thought that she shared his passion for the subject.

  After about thirty minutes, they ordered a platter of nibbles and another mug of the mulled wine, and they stayed there for ages, watching the snow falling through the diamond-paned windows, as more people gradually came into the pub, filling the air with Christmas frivolity. They started to have trouble hearing themselves speak, and in the end, Hal said, “It’s noisy in here. You fancy going for a walk?”

  “Sure,” she said with a smile, so they rose and made their way out of the pub into the cold night air.

  “Ooh.” Angel looked around, her eyes wide. The snow was falling thick and fast, settling on all the walls and bushes and rooftops, although the odd car was still preventing it from laying on the roads.

  “The tide’s nearly in,” Hal said, pulling on his hat and gloves. “How about we walk down to St. Cuthbert’s Island and take a look?”

  “Yes, okay.” She tugged up her hood and pulled on her mittens. Hal decided to take a chance—he had already kissed her, after all—and he held out his hand. Angel smiled and slipped hers into it, and they started walking.

  It was hardly intimate through two layers of gloves, but even so, it gave him goosebumps to be touching her.

  “I can’t believe it’s Christmas Eve,” she said, looking at a house with a flashing Rudolph in the window.

  He remembered that this night was when her father had died, and also when her ex had dumped her. Walking slowly, he turned them into Crossgate Lane, feeling a wash of guilt at the thought of how he’d been talking about himself all evening. The poor girl, she must really be going through it. “How are you feeling about it all?”

  “Actually... I’m okay.” She lifted her face to the snow, her eyelids fluttering as the flakes landed on her lashes. “I don’t know if it’s the medication, or the therapy, or just being here.” She flashed him a smile. “But I feel all right. A touch sad, I suppose, when I think of my dad. But it was a long while ago now. The grief never goes away, as you know. When did you lose your father?”

  “Three years ago. Mum two years before that.”

  “So you’re an orphan!”

  He smiled. “I guess.”

  “Do you have any brothers or sisters?”

  “A sister. She emigrated to Australia after Dad died—her husband’s an Aussie. I’d like to go and visit her, but it’s financially impossible at the moment.”

  Angel sighed. “Life seems so hard sometimes, doesn’t it?”

  “Yeah. Then, at other times, it’s very easy.” He squeezed her hand. She bumped his shoulder, and he bumped hers back.

  “It’s been such a long time since I’ve been on anything approaching a date,” she said.

  “Me too. I haven’t been with anyone for two-and-a-half years.”

  Angel gave him a puzzled glance at that. “I thought you and Rebecca parted two years ago.”

  “We did. We hadn’t slept together for at least six months before that. Probably more.”

  “Wow.”

  “What?” he asked, amused.

  “I don’t understand why anyone lucky enough to marry you wouldn’t want to be in bed with you twenty-four-seven until you were both old and gray. And even then... I like silver foxes.” She smiled.

  He gave a short laugh. “Yeah, well, Rebecca was never that keen on sex.”

  She stared at him. “Seriously?”

  “Unfortunately, yes.”

  Her jaw dropped in such a comical manner that he laughed properly, unable to stop an inner glow at her obvious disbelief that someone wouldn’t be interested in sex with him.

  “Did that happen when your kids came along?” she asked

  His humor died away at the memory, and he looked away, at the layer of snow on the stone wall next to the pavement. “No, long before that.” He glanced at Angel and smiled wryly at her raised eyebrows. “You’re going to ask for details now, aren’t you?”

  “Sometimes it helps to talk.”

  “I suppose. But I don’t want to be...”

  “Disloyal?” she suggested.

  “More that I don’t want you to think badly of me. I’ve criticized Rebecca a lot today, and it doesn’t make me feel like a very nice person. I wasn’t e
xactly a saint, either.”

  “The best guys aren’t.” She grinned, and he couldn’t help but laugh. “Look,” she said, “I think it’s great that you feel some loyalty, and of course you don’t have to tell me anything. But I get the feeling you’ve never spoken to anyone about your marriage.”

  “That’s true.” He’d never been to a therapist, and it wasn’t the kind of thing you talked about to a mate. “I’m not used to opening up.”

  “We’re two strangers, practically,” Angel pointed out. “You’ve been through a tough time, and it doesn’t sound as if you’ve had anyone on your side, except your lawyer. Well, I’m on your side. So maybe it would help to talk to me.” She squeezed his hand.

  Since his father had passed and his sister had emigrated, he’d felt very alone. I’m on your side. It was strange to hear. “Okay,” he said softly. “Ask away.”

  “Well, I know I said you don’t have to tell me, but you do have to tell me or I’ll wonder all night. Why wasn’t she keen on sex?”

  “I don’t know. She was always very... reserved. I think it was something to do with how she was brought up. She seemed to think of sex as... dirty, and not in a good way.”

  Angel’s lips quirked up briefly, but there was sympathy in her expression. “That can’t have been easy.”

  He blew out a breath, watching it frost in the light from the street lamp. “To be honest, I didn’t have a lot to compare it to. I was twenty when we met. My sexual conquests consisted of a few fumbles in my mid-teens, and a steep learning curve with a lot of mistakes in my late teens. I hadn’t had any long-term relationships, and I wasn’t exactly James Bond. Nice guys don’t ask a woman to do anything that makes her uncomfortable, so I was happy for Rebecca to call the shots in the bedroom. There was a list of rules and regulations as long as your arm of things I wasn’t allowed to do.”

  Angel frowned. “That’s a strange choice of word. Allowed.”

  “That’s how it was. I didn’t question it in the beginning because I assumed that was how it was for every guy when they get married. But it was only as the years went by that I began to wonder... I’d listen to friends occasionally talk about their relationships, making jokes about things they did in bed. I began to realize not all women were like that. And that it was wrong of her to make me feel...” He hesitated and glanced at Angel. “Don’t laugh.”

  “I won’t. I swear.”

  “She made me feel... perverted. And I swear I wasn’t suggesting sex with chickens or anything. Just what most guys would probably consider run-of-the-mill stuff.”

  Angel didn’t laugh. “That’s awful,” she whispered.

  He shrugged. “That was her prerogative, I guess. But I wanted more, and it was always an undercurrent in our arguments. We had a lot of problems.” He lifted his face to the sky, feeling the snow landing on his lashes and lips. “In many ways, I think Charles did me a favor. I feel... liberated.” He dropped his gaze back to Angel. “Is that a terrible thing to say?”

  “I think it’s a perfectly reasonable thing to say.” She squeezed his fingers. “I feel happier at this moment than I’ve felt in a long time, too,” she said. “And you’re a big part of that.”

  “I’m glad.”

  “What happened back in February was a turning point for me. It forced me to seek help, and also helped me understand a lot about myself. I don’t want to forget how low I was then. I want to learn from it.” She spoke with quiet determination. “Life is so fragile. It’s tough and there are so many things that can bring us down. That’s why we have to hang onto the good things. Like you, Halvar Carlson, appearing out of the blue to save me. You took me into your home and looked after me, when other people might have just dumped me off at the cottage and let me sort myself out, or not even helped in the first place. I fully intend to make the most of you.”

  He looked down at her, not sure what she meant by that, but she was looking away, up into the dark night. He wasn’t even sure she was aware she’d said the words out loud.

  Pondering on them, he led her past the English Heritage Priory Museum, and then down the road that curved toward the sea.

  Angel stopped walking as they passed the church, and he paused beside her. “The choir’s practicing for midnight mass,” he said. They were singing Silent Night, and all the hairs rose on the back of his neck at the haunting melody.

  “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. Light streamed out through the church windows, and the building seemed to glow in the darkness. “Like the lamppost in Narnia,” she murmured.

  He smiled. “You really think it’s magical here?”

  “Definitely. Can’t you feel it?”

  He felt her fingers tighten on his, and thought that maybe he could, conjured up by the chorus of voices on the wind, the swirling snow, the silence that was settling with the flakes, and a sense of anticipation deep inside him. Except it had nothing to do with Santa and waiting to open his Christmas presents, and everything to do with the woman walking at his side.

  They followed the road around, and then the beach opened up before them. Hal slowed to a halt, and Angel paused at his side. It wasn’t far from high tide, and the causeway was now impassable.

  “We’re cut off?” she whispered.

  “Yep. Just me and you.” He smiled.

  The view wasn’t much to look at—the thickly falling snow shrouded the mainland from sight. Even St. Cuthbert’s Island only a short distance away was only visible as a shadow in the darkness. He couldn’t see the cross that marked the place where the hermit had lived, but he knew it was there.

  In the distance, the choir was now singing The First Noel. Hal hadn’t sung in the church for many years, but he could still remember those cool evenings in the quire, the smell of the candles, the pleasure he’d felt when his voice had joined with the others around him. As a child, he’d loved Christmas time at school, when they would rehearse for the nativity play and sing carols leading up to the end of term.

  Next to him, Angel shivered. She moved closer to him, her back to his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

  How nice to be holding a woman again. He dipped his head, touching his nose just beneath her ear. The skin there was pale and soft, and he could smell her perfume or body wash, something that reminded him of Christmas, with cinnamon and orange.

  She shuddered, sighed, then turned in his arms and rested her hands on his chest. He could only just see her in the light from the distant church. Her hood had fallen back, and her blonde hair gleamed once again like a halo. He couldn’t shake the feeling that she really had been sent to help him claw his way out of the darkness he’d felt himself falling into over the past few months.

  “I’d like to kiss you,” she said.

  His heart shuddered to a stop, then beat at double speed. But he stayed still, the winter wind brushing his face, the crisp smell of the salty sea in his nostrils.

  “I don’t expect—” he began, but she lifted her hand to press her mittened fingers to his mouth, so he stopped talking.

  She moved a little closer, until she was pressed up against him. Then she lifted onto her tiptoes and touched her lips to his.

  Hal closed his eyes. Her mouth was cool and soft, although her tongue as she brushed it against his bottom lip was warm. He opened his mouth and tilted his head to give her better access, and she murmured her approval, lifting her arms around his neck and kissing him properly.

  It was a surprise that he felt anything—her thick jacket obscured her figure as he slid his arms around her, his face was numb from the cold, and he was wearing gloves—but it was as if his senses had been turned up to maximum. He tingled all over, and something stirred in his belly, like a hibernating bear that had finally realized spring was around the corner.

  It was the most bizarre kiss he’d ever had in so many ways, and yet also the most magical, carrying with it the beautiful anticipation of where this was going to lead.

  Angel moved back eventually and laughed.
“I can hardly feel anything.” She poked his chest with her mittens.

  “I can feel enough,” he said, and pulled her toward him again, capturing her lips for another kiss. This time, he let his growing desire for her filter through, and when they eventually broke apart, they were both breathing heavily.

  “Can we go back to your house?” She brushed a strand of hair away from her face.

  Hal’s mouth had gone dry. Was she really offering what he thought she was offering?

  “If you don’t want to, it’s okay,” she whispered. “I know it’s been a difficult day for you.”

  He snorted. “Of course I want to. But... are you sure?”

  “It’s Christmas Eve, Hal. I feel as if I’ve been given the gift of a lifetime. No way am I going to pass up the chance to unwrap him.” She wrinkled her nose and smiled. Then she placed a hand back on his chest. “I know I’ve told you a lot about my past, and what I’ve been through. But I don’t want you to think I’m high maintenance because of that, and I’m going to be expecting anything else but a little bit of fun and pleasure out of it. I know this is just a holiday fling, but what’s wrong with that? I really, really like you. You make me feel... I don’t know... excited, like it’s Christmas Eve all the time. You lift me up, Hal. That can’t be a bad thing, can it?”

  His throat had tightened. “Of course not.”

  She placed her other hand on his chest. “I know your wife said you had a heart of ice. I want to prove to you that’s not the case. I want to show you how much you heat me up from the inside out.” Her eyelids had slipped to half mast, turning sultry. “Don’t you want to let me show you, Hal? Don’t be fooled by my name. You can be as perverted as you like with me.” Her eyes glittered.

  He caught his breath, his lips curving up as she brushed hers against them. “If you insist.”

  “Oh, I do. Come on. It’s freezing out here, and Santa’s on his way, so we have to make sure we’re in bed by midnight.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Hal held Angel’s hand all the way back to his cottage, both of them walking quickly now they’d made up their minds.