31 Days of Winter (31 Days #1)

by C. J. Fallowfield

  ‘Brooke, is this really happening?’ I gasped as I leaned against the sink countertop.

  ‘It is. Want me to pinch you?’

  ‘Yes, please,’ I nodded, then squealed as she did. ‘Shit, that hurt.’

  ‘That’s the point, you know you’re awake and what the fuck have you done to your arm? It looks awful,’ she exclaimed as she pointed at my deep purple bruise and butterfly stitched tear.

  ‘I cut it on either the jetty or ice as I fell in the loch,’ I nodded. ‘I think I’ll be left with a scar.’

  ‘You were so lucky he was nearby and came in after you,’ she replied with a shake of her head.

  ‘I know,’ I nodded. That was the selfless caring Dan that had helped me that day, not the cheating husband of another woman. A woman I’d unwittingly made a fool of. Again.

  ‘Serious face. Come on, Champagne awaits. Your choice what take out you want and we’ll hunker down on that massive sofa and catch up properly.’

  As Brooke popped the Champagne and located some beautiful modernistic champagne flutes in one of the cupboards, I opened the welcome basket and was hit with nostalgia. It was just like the basket Dan had given me when I’d arrived on the island. There was a bottle of my favourite white wine, a box of truffles, some luxury bath oils and bombs, and a gift voucher for Sunday lunch for two at the Savoy Grill. I felt my stomach flip as I saw an envelope with “Miss Baxter” written in Dan’s writing on the front. I opened it as Brooke babbled on about the standard of the glass and silverware in the cupboards.

  My dearest Ellie, A little something to welcome you to your new home. I hope that you’ll be very happy here and find all the luck and love that you’re searching for. I don’t know anyone who deserves it more. I never gave you the name of the jewellers for your ring. Go to Havershams on Slone Street and tell them you were sent by your landlord, they’ll do you a good deal. If only I’d met you years ago Ellie Baxter, things could have been so different. With fondest memories, always. Dan x

  ‘All part of the service,’ I whispered as I wiped my eyes. I assumed he’d had this delivered before I’d found out all about him.

  ‘O shit, the tears have started already? We haven’t ordered the food and made it to the sofa yet. Here, drink some Champers.’ She thrust the glass at me and I nodded and took a sip.

  ‘Brooke, this is seriously good Champagne.’

  ‘Wish I could take the credit, but I swiped it from your basket. From arsehole three?’

  ‘Yes,’ I giggled with a sniff. ‘Fancy lunch at the Savoy tomorrow?’ I asked as I waved the voucher at her.

  ‘Na, I spend too much time in posh hotels as it is. Save it, you can wow your first proper date with it when we’ve got you back on the horse. So what’s your poison?’ she asked as she spread the take out menus in front of me.

  ‘Cantonese,’ I nodded.

  ‘Get your arse up onto that sofa, Brooke’s in control and knows exactly what to order. Tissues are on the lamp table ready,’ she nodded as she dialled.

  ‘You’re a star,’ I smiled.

  ‘A bloody flaming supernova,’ she chuckled and put a finger to her lips as she reeled off our favourite items and I headed up with the bottle.

  Two hours later, full of food, Champagne and wine and all cried out, Brooke had heard it all and was as stunned as I’d been when I’d got the call and seen the file.

  ‘So there you are, another man to add to the disaster that is Ellie Baxter’s love life.’

  ‘It just makes no sense, babe. The file I sort of get, not the level of detail he went to, but this Davenport guy is obviously super rich and he’s not going to want any old Tom, Dick, or Harry staying in his holiday home, is he?’

  ‘I guess not, but a copy of a police report on my mum and dad? Zac’s STD test results?’

  ‘A step too far, I totally agree. Setting that aside, this Dan’s actions say he really cares about you Ellie, you weren’t just a notch on his bedpost. Maybe his marriage is over, you never gave him a chance to explain.’

  ‘Brooke, don’t you dare defend him. He had plenty of chances to explain, before he even did anything sexual to me. He knows what he did was wrong, that’s why he didn’t want to tell me his secret. He knew “Hey, I’m married” would put him straight on my don’t go there again, Ellie list.’

  ‘Well if nothing else, you’ve learned what being properly in love is like, along with seriously great sex. You won’t put up with any shit sexual relationships from now on,’ she suggested. I had to laugh and agree and told her my theory on my invisible tattoo. ‘Yeah you sure get them, babe. Maybe it says “Open for Dicks.”’

  ‘O thanks, that makes it sound like I just lie there with my legs spread for any old passer-by to poke me,’ I exclaimed as I slapped her arm.

  ‘Shit it does a bit, doesn’t it!’ she laughed. ‘Ok, I’ll go with “Arseholes Welcome Here” but we need to change it to “Arseholes NOT Welcome Here” which won’t be a problem, because I’m going to vet them all for you first.’

  ‘What, Oliver Davenport and Dan style with a detailed bloody report?’

  ‘Well no, I can’t afford a Private Investigator, but I can ask cunningly designed questions to trip them up, speak to their friends and follow them.’

  ‘It’s a bit extreme, don’t you think?’

  ‘Worth it if I don’t have to see you so hurt over a guy again. He really got to you, didn’t he, babe?’

  ‘He really did,’ I nodded with a sigh. ‘So what sort of questions would you ask?’

  ‘I’d do that little trick you did on me, the one where you got me to admit women were my preference. I’d settle them in first with a load of questions to make them feel comfortable. You know, stuff guys love talking about, like sports, their penis extension cars, their penises, job, status, financial worth,’ she shrugged. ‘Then I’d hit them with “What’s your girlfriends name” or “How big’s your cock really?”’

  ‘I’m not interested in their financial status, Brooke. If my inappropriate fling with Dan has taught me anything it’s that I quite liked having a simple life, with a guy that wasn’t obsessed by making money.’

  ‘Whatever, money helps and don’t deny it doesn’t. People can be happy without it, but they’re even happier with it. No rich person’s going to wake up in a swank pad like this every morning and think, “I know what will make me happy, giving it all away so I’m poor.” Anyway, I’ll fire a barrage of questions at them and they’ll be like me, they’ll snap back the right answer and voila, Dick’s your Uncle.’

  ‘Bob’s your Uncle,’ I corrected.

  ‘I thought it was Dick?’

  ‘No, it’s Bob.’

  ‘Why Bob?’ she asked with a puzzled frown. ‘And what does that expression even mean?’

  ‘You used it,’ I laughed.

  ‘Well yeah, because everyone says it. Like “No use crying over spilt milk.” But why milk? You’d be crying over spilt expensive Champagne not bloody milk, that stuff is really cheap.’

  ‘They’re expressions that have been handed down through the ages, I’m sure if you look them up on the internet you’d find out what their origins were.’

  ‘You know what, we’re going to make a list and investigate right now. That will take your mind off Arsehole Three and give us a laugh.’

  ‘Really? Two young attractive girls are staying in on a Saturday night Googling age old expressions?’ I sighed.

  ‘You’re tired and you’re going to have an early night in your new home. And we’re also going to look up all the freaky things as well.’

  ‘What freaky things?’

  ‘Like, why do you never see a baby pigeon? How do dwarfs that live in the Penthouse press the Penthouse button in the lift? It’s always the top one and they’d never reach it. Surely they could sue lift manufacturers for discrimination against height challenged people?’

  ‘Seriously?’ I laughed. ‘You need more shifts or sex if you have time to be thinking about things like t
hat.’

  ‘Come on, it will be fun. You think of one to ask.’

  ‘Ok, how about, why are redheads all beauty and no brains?’ I teased.

  ‘Take that back! Why are blondes all beauty and the bitch?’

  ‘You know what, if I had to compare my ridiculous infatuation with Dan it would be to Beauty and the Beast, right up to the moment he was about to reveal himself.’

  ‘Beast by name, beast in trousers,’ she nodded.

  ‘O, yeah,’ I sighed as I was hit by a visual of his pure masculinity with his large member.

  ‘Ok, this was supposed to be taking your mind off him. Let’s do the dwarf one first, I’m intrigued.’

  ‘You’re on,’ I smiled as I poured her more wine. ‘I really missed you, Brooke.’

  ‘I really missed you too, but now you’re living in this sweet pad, so close to all the bars and restaurants of Kensington and a short tube ride from Stockbroker and Banker central, I’m going to be virtually living with you.’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ I nodded as I leaned over and gave her a hug and a kiss. She was right, I needed to do things to forget Dan and move on. I just wasn’t sure how easy it would be, or how long it was going to take. He’d seriously messed with my head and my heart. At least I had Brooke, this amazing new house, and my new job to look forward to and distract me. I lay down and put my head in her lap and listened as she excitedly told me her findings from my iPad as I tried to push Dan’s devastated face as I’d walked to the plane out of my mind.

  Day Thirty One

  Dan

  I should have known myself better, I couldn’t walk away, I’d never been able to walk away when I wanted something. My strength to resist Ellie for so long had surprised me, I’d never worked so hard at anything in my life as I had in trying not to taste her, to know what it would feel like to bury myself in her, to show her how amazing sex could be, how amazing she could be. She was so full of self-doubt of her sexual worth, I told myself I was doing it to boost her self-confidence, that it was all for her benefit. But, as ever, I’d done it for selfish reasons, it was for me, I’d wanted her that badly. Other than Rebecca, I’d never wanted another woman the way I wanted Ellie. Not even my wife Moira. She’d just been a gold digger, a girl who’d realised my real identity and tricked me into marriage with a pregnancy. Given the loss of Rebecca and my son, I felt obliged to do the honourable thing, what good that had done me.

  I’d hardly slept that night Ellie left me at the airport. I’d moved back into my house and into my bed, the bed she’d slept in for the last few weeks. She’d washed the sheets, there was no scent of her on them at all, no evidence of her stay, except in my memories. The house felt empty and cold without her. I’d tossed and turned all night, trying to convince myself that staying away from her was the right thing, but I’d succumbed and had booked my helicopter pilot to come and collect me and we’d landed in London a couple of hours ago. It was already eight o’clock as I sat in the car at the end of Pavilion Mews as my driver let the engine idle while I tried to make my mind up.

  ‘Wait here for me James, I’ll let you know if you can leave,’ I advised him as I opened the door and stepped out onto the cobbled street.

  ‘Certainly, Sir,’ he replied. I chuckled to myself. Ellie had said “Home, James” to me when I’d carried her, saying all rich people had chauffeurs called James. Little did she know I was one of them. I wondered if finding out that I was actually Oliver Daniel Davenport, billionaire CEO of the 11th largest software firm in the world would make a difference to her? All the duplicity had been because I hadn’t wanted her to know my real identity, it had been so long since a woman sparked any form of sexual desire in me, let alone from just a photo, that I wanted to know if it was me that she was interested in, not my money like most of the women that came before her. And she was genuinely interested in me, she’d fallen for “Dan” the hired help, the guy who just did manual chores and chopped logs for a living. Fuck, I’d no idea how physical chopping all those damn logs was, I thought to myself as I made my way down to her house. Mr. McAdams, my caretaker, was too old to be doing that, and I’d take over from him when he got back from his Christmas break. In fact, I was lucky that Ellie cooked. I was so used to his wife, my housekeeper, preparing all of my evening meals, I’d have bloody wasted away on damn soup and sandwiches. I decided I was going to get Mrs. McAdams to show me how to cook for myself when they returned from their extended Christmas break. They’d been delighted when I’d packed them up at short notice and sent them to my holiday home on another private island in the Caribbean, so I could move into the boathouse to make my persona seem even more authentic to Ellie. In fact, other than a handful of people, Moira, her parents, Pete, Conn, and Mr. and Mrs. McAdams, no one in Scotland knew I was Ollie Davenport. I was just Dan, the friend of the billionaire who owned the island and did chores.

  I walked down the street and stopped at my front door. I tried to remember the last time I’d slept here and let out a surprised grunt to realise it was the day before my wedding, before I’d flown up to Scotland to get married. Other than the occasional board meeting, which I tied into a visit to see my parents, I rarely came to London anymore. I felt too much guilt missing my daily commitments back home. I raised my hand to knock on the front door and hovered with my knuckles millimetres from the solid wood as I heard laughter coming from inside the kitchen. The thought that she could have another man in there already speared my chest, then I reminded myself this was Ellie, until me she wasn’t like that, she didn’t just throw herself at guys. I moved to look through the window. She’d closed the wooden shutters, but they only covered the bottom half of the window, for someone as tall as me I had no problem seeing over the top of them.

  I gulped as I saw her sitting at the island with a glass of wine in her hand, laughing as she talked and I breathed a sigh of relief. It was that redhead friend of hers, thank God. Ellie looked really tired, it was obvious she’d been crying again and I winced at what I’d put her through, but seeing her laughing now warmed my heart. I really loved her laughter. She got up off her stool and stirred something cooking on the hob, brought the spoon to her lips, tasted and then licked them. I found myself automatically licking my own, imagining it was my lips she was tasting again. The memory of how soft and willing they’d been, how she’d just surrendered to me, made my cock jerk instantly. I blew out a breath and my fists clenched at my sides as stress and sexual tension coursed through my body. I shook myself down and ran through in my head what I was going to say as she opened the door. Hopefully I’d take her by surprise and have a chance to get it all out before she slammed the door in my face or told me to fuck off, which I’d already steeled myself for. Why wouldn’t she? I’d not been truthful about my real name, my identity, my marital status. I’d concealed where I went every day and why. I ran my hands over my face and shook my head. What the fuck are you thinking, Ollie? That she’d still want you after you laid all that on her? I thought. I suddenly realised how stupid I was being, she’d never want me when I came clean, she’d hate me even more than she already did.

  I watched her laugh again and break into a smile as she propped her stunning face on her knuckles and listened to Brooke talking. No, Ellie Baxter was better off without another arsehole like me in her life. I needed to walk away. She had a good job, a great friend and a nice house to live in now. I planned to save the rent that she was paying me and give it back to her at the end of her tenancy agreement, to help her buy that little cottage in the country she’d always dreamed of. I just hated the thought of her starting a life there with anyone but me. I felt my stomach knot as I remembered falling asleep with her that last night we were together. She didn’t know I was still awake, that I’d heard her whisper in a mumbled daze. I remembered every word, I’d memorised them and repeated them to myself so many times, not quite able to believe it.

  ‘I know you’ll never know, but I love you, Dan. I know I shouldn’t and that you won’t care, b
ut I just needed to tell you. I really love you. I really, really do.’

  I’d been so happy, shocked but happy, to know that she had fallen for me without all my money and status. She’d really fallen in love with Dan the hired help, and she’d fallen so hard it had humbled me. I’d stayed awake all that night just holding her in my arms, watching her as she slept, marvelling that this incredibly beautiful, generous and loving woman had such deep feelings for me. But along with the sunrise signalling a new day, a day where I had no ice to use as an excuse not to honour my commitments, the inevitable guilt came over me. I’d written her a note and fled like a damn coward, too scared of saying goodbye to her face, knowing I’d probably cave and make things harder for us both.

  Having that time away from her though was painful, and when I finally realised my own feelings for her, I knew I didn’t want to lose her. I’d headed back to the island, resolved to come clean, about everything, but she’d already packed up and left. I’d found a text from Pete sent about forty minutes earlier, telling me he was taking her to the airport. So I’d raced there to try and stop her. As soon as I got a decent phone signal I listened to my voice messages along the way. I’d sworn and punched the steering wheel multiple times when I heard her voicemail rant and realised she’d found out I was married. I also couldn’t understand how the hell she’d found that damn file, I’d kept it locked in my desk drawer. I’d realised that I must’ve left it open when I’d got my printer out and set it up for her. I’d sworn again and put my foot down feeling completely gutted as that wasn’t the way she was supposed to find out, I was supposed to have told her.

  But she had, and here I was, back in London, watching her sitting at my kitchen island. I’d come with all intentions of telling her the complete truth, but seeing her laugh, rationalising what I was about to do to her by laying all of my shit on her, I just couldn’t do it. She needed to move on without me. She didn’t need to know the rest of my secrets, least of all why I disappeared nearly every day. If the knowledge that I was married had hurt her this badly, the rest of my news would probably break her. My heart sank as I gently touched the window, from this angle it felt as if I were stroking her soft cheek.