Snowed In At Snowflake B&B: The perfect heartwarming Christmas romance to curl up with in 2020!

by Kellie Hailes

  He picked up his wine and took a sip, and decided the best course of action was to keep up appearances and act as if everything was okay. Harry and Matilda, and Stefan and Flo would be leaving the next morning, then he and Sam could talk through whatever was upsetting her.

  ‘Thank you, Sam, for this fresh take on a trifle. I’m sure it’ll be amazing.’

  Sam directed a tight smile his way, then nodded to the table. ‘Dig in. Enjoy.’

  There was a moment’s hesitation, like those seated at the table sensed a gathering storm and were waiting for the first ominous rumble of thunder.

  Harry was the first to make a move. ‘Well, I’ve no time for this politeness. The trifle looks delicious.’ He dug the serving spoon in and, in doing so, loosened the tension in the air.

  The following minutes were filled with the sound of scraping and ‘mmm’s and contented sighs. All deserved, as the trifle was every bit as delicious as it looked. The decadence of the chocolate custard and sponge combined with the sharp, sweet tang of the orange creating a flavour explosion in the mouth.

  It was a triumph.

  Reuben went to say so, but was cut off by Sam.

  ‘We all good then? Everyone done?’

  Her smile was every bit as sweet as the custard. Perhaps sweeter. Like it was being forced, along with the bright tone in her voice.

  Before anyone had a chance to answer she was whipping around the room gathering up empty bowls and dirty spoons, stacking them into the near-empty trifle bowl, then dashing out the door.

  Something was definitely up, and Reuben decided he couldn’t wait to find out what the problem was until the morning. Seeing Sam upset created an uncomfortable weight in his chest, one that wouldn’t lift until she was okay again – until they were okay. The second a private moment arose he’d take it and they could have a chat, one that would hopefully clear whatever issue had sprung up between them.

  ‘So, presents next?’ Stefan nodded at each person eagerly.

  Reuben nodded, thankful that Stefan spoke up and helped move the evening on. ‘Absolutely, we’ll just wait for Sam to get back.’

  ‘I’m back. Don’t worry. I’m here. Didn’t want to take too long rinsing the dishes.’

  Her words were too quick, too high-pitched. Reuben felt like he was watching a wire string that was stretching further and further and, at some point soon, would break, slashing, scarring whatever it hit.

  ‘Great.’ Flo scraped her chair back and stood. ‘To the sitting room.’

  Out of the corner of his eye, Reuben could see Harry close his eyes and sag in his seat.

  ‘That’s where Harry’s present is,’ Flo continued, seemingly unaware of Harry’s reaction.

  Without waiting a second more she strode out of the room, leaving the rest of them to pick up their gifts from under the tree and follow in her wake.

  ‘I can feel the migraine coming on already,’ Harry grumbled to everyone and no one.

  Matilda patted his arm reassuringly. ‘You’ll be right, dear. Just keep your eyes as narrowed as you can. I’ve a stash of ibuprofen in my handbag. You can have that.’

  ‘And this is why our marriage keeps on keeping on.’ Harry looped an arm around Matilda’s waist and squeezed her affectionately.

  Reuben looked over his shoulder to check on Sam. She was staring at Harry and Matilda, her face devoid of expression, the skin on her cheeks slack, her lips in a thin line. Her eyes full of yearning, sadness. Confusion.

  That made both of them.

  Perhaps that was what was causing the harsh turn in behaviour? She was afraid of what was happening between them. Unsure what the ground rules were of working and living with someone you were in love with.

  In love?

  He stopped short. The thought sent air whooshing from his lungs. His chest tightened in shock and surprise.

  Who said anything about love?

  He blinked hard and fast, not only at the ridiculous extrapolation of feelings his brain had thrust at him, but at the state of the sitting room before him.

  The purple and pink tinsel was gone, as were the matching sequin-and-glitter-encrusted decorations that had covered every bough of the tree and surface of the room. Replacing it were flickering tea lights, gently glowing along the length of the mantel and woven through the trees. Delicate snowflakes, stars and instrument-playing angel decorations graced the tree. The effect was calming, sophisticated…

  ‘Beautiful,’ Matilda breathed, her eyes wide in wonder.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Harry mouthed, his gaze matching his wife’s.

  Flo’s arms were held wide, his face beaming with pride. ‘This is for you, Harry. Apologies that our initial effort gave you so many headaches, that it kept you from coming in here. I hope you like my gift to you. I’m just sorry you’ve only a few hours left of your break to enjoy it.’

  ‘Oh, love.’ Harry’s chest rose and held, his eyes misted over as he threw his arms wide and made his way to Flo in two strides, then embraced her in a bear hug. ‘This is perfect. More than I could’ve asked for. You’ve gone to so much effort. Thank you. Really.’

  Harry pulled back, his grin as wide as Flo’s cheeks were pink. His hands went to his hips as he did a slow three-sixty. ‘Brilliant. Just… brilliant.’

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Harry lost for words.’ Matilda came to stand beside Flo and hooked her arm through hers. ‘You’ve done well. Better than well. It truly is marvellous. Speaking of…’

  Harry passed his gift to Stefan. ‘I hope you like it, son.’

  Stefan ripped the paper with the enthusiasm of an eight-year-old. His eyes went as wide as his mouth as he saw the picture Harry had drawn: a soccer team, all featuring Stefan’s face, holding a trophy above their heads.

  ‘I might’ve overheard your earlier conversation with Sam. Wasn’t ear-wigging, I promise, but I caught the tail end of it. I hope you like it. You’re a champ in my eyes.’

  ‘Like it? I bloody love it.’ Stefan grabbed Harry and hugged him tight, then released him and went back to admiring the picture. ‘Bloody amazing.’

  ‘My turn?’ Matilda passed a small gift to each of them. ‘I kind of pulled my own name out of the bowl, and decided to make something for each of you.’

  The gifts were unwrapped it to reveal small hearts, carved from soap.

  ‘I found a little supply in the bathroom, and I thought it might be a nice reminder of our time spent here.’ Matilda shrugged like it was no big deal.

  ‘You did this when you could have said something and got a present?’ Stefan shook his head. ‘You might be the best person I’ve ever met.’ He coughed into his hand. ‘Second best… Er, can I go now? Reuben, Sam? Do you mind?’

  Reuben shook his head, happy to be gifted a reprieve from giving his gift to Sam. He wanted her to have it, but truth be told, he’d rather give it to her in private.

  ‘Go ahead.’ Sam nodded. ‘Shall I?’ She jerked her head towards the hall.

  Stefan gave her the thumbs up, then turned to Harry and held out a sprig of mistletoe that he’d pulled from a vase on the coffee table. ‘Harry, would you do me a favour and hang this mistletoe over Flo? I tried to do this the other day but—’ he glanced at Reuben and widened his eyes ‘—someone put a stop to it.’

  With a wink Harry did as he was told, pulling over an ottoman and standing on it to gain a little extra height as he dangled the mistletoe over Flo’s head, a cheek-stretching, wrinkle-deepening grin on his face.

  Stefan’s hand went into his chinos pocket and pulled out a navy-blue velvet square-shaped box.

  Reuben clocked the reactions of those surrounding him. Matilda’s hands were clasping her cheeks, so hard they were going red, her expression one of abject delight. Harry’s grin had transformed into the smug look of a man who knew what was coming. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Sam re-entering the room, a tray in hand with letters arranged on it. She too had a softness about her that had been missing for much of the night.
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  He caught sight of himself in the mirror above the mantelpiece and promptly shut his gaping mouth.

  Stefan’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down, his chest rose then fell, and his jitters disappeared, replaced by a quiet assuredness. ‘Flo, you’re my rock. You keep me grounded. You make me a better person. Force me to become a better person. You inspire me with your kindness, your goodness, your determination and quiet strength. Would you do me the honour of making an honest man of me? Will you marry me?’

  He sunk down on one knee, opened the box and presented the ring to Flo, whose cheeks were streaked with tears, her chest shuddering up and down, her head doing what her mouth could not – nodding yes.

  ‘Thank you,’ Stefan whispered, tears glistened on his own cheeks, which were raised high in a huge smile. ‘Thank you, Flo.’

  With a shaking hand he placed the simple but stunning slim band of gold with a glittering solitaire diamond on her finger then stood and kissed her under the mistletoe – still being dangled overhead by Harry – with all the joy of a man who didn’t care if others saw his happiness.

  After a long minute, they broke apart and Sam came forward carrying a tray of cheese biscuits that spelled out ‘I love you Flo. Forever.’

  ‘Best. Not-quite-Christmas ever,’ Flo whispered as she palmed away her tears. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘This calls for champagne.’ Reuben surprised himself by opening his arms to Flo and Stefan and embracing them quickly. ‘I’m so happy for you. Congratulations.’ Even more surprisingly, he meant it.

  Any trace of residual bitterness from the demise of his marriage had been erased in the last few days. Like the combination of finding his passion for writing again along with seeing young love take its next steps had healed him.

  Or did it have something to do with the woman who had already pulled out champagne glasses and was setting them down next to a platter brimming with cheese, meats, olives and crackers that she’d magicked up seemingly out of nowhere?

  He indicated he’d be back in five to the buoyant crowd and took himself down to the cellar, his mind swirling with the revelation that his life might end up being okay after all. That he could forge on with his writing career, perhaps even in a new genre. That he could end up running the B&B every bit as successfully as the previous owners.

  That he could find the courage to love again?

  To love the woman who believed in him, who pushed him, who made him better?

  He reached the cellar and paused, leaned his head against the cool brick. Could he really put his heart on the line once more?

  Sam’s words, her promise, she’d given him when she’d agreed to stay on had played through his mind whenever he’d allowed them in… ‘I won’t leave this place.’

  It had sounded a lot like he was included in that package.

  Like she wouldn’t leave him.

  Wishful thinking?

  Perhaps.

  But he didn’t believe Sam was the kind of person to play with another’s heart like that. Not after all she’d been through. It seemed to Reuben, Sam made it her life’s mission to accommodate people, to make their lives easier. He didn’t believe she had it in her to purposefully hurt him.

  But that didn’t mean she accidentally couldn’t. And unlike Flo and Stefan, he’d been burned before. Badly. And the mere idea of enduring the pain of having another person leave him was so great it seemed stupid to entertain the idea of entering a relationship at all.

  Especially when the person he had developed feelings for had gone from kissing him to giving him the cold shoulder in the span of one day.

  Footsteps on the stairs bounced off the walls. Fast-paced, determined, Reuben knew immediately who they belonged to, and he made a show of pulling out bottles and checking notes on the labels, not wanting Sam to catch him staring at a wall, his mind on emotional matters that could lead to questioning, and a conversation he wasn’t ready to have.

  ‘Thought I’d better come down and give you a hand. I don’t think a couple of bottles will be enough for that crowd. They’re positively giddy.’

  The caution he’d seen in her every movement that evening was written in the straight-backed nature of her posture, but her voice was warm with affection. Whatever was going on inside her, whatever was bothering her, it gave him hope that his Sam – the warm, funny, sparkly one – still existed. Would still be there for him. Still wanted him.

  ‘A wine to savour.’ He held up the bottle in his hand and hoped Sam wouldn’t read the notes, which Reuben was pretty sure didn’t mention the word ‘savour’. Hell, it could say ‘terrible wine, avoid at all costs’ and he wouldn’t know. All he knew was that Sam’s scent – a mix of spice and tang and sweet – was sending his head into a spin. Not helping his resolve to keep things between them at arm’s length. All he wanted was to swoop her up into his arms, to kiss her better, to melt away the cause of her issues with affection.

  ‘Great. Pass a couple over, you grab a couple more and we’ll head up.’

  Reuben waited for a smile, a touch, a sign she cared. His heart sank when none was offered as he gave her the bottles, then ached as Sam turned her back on him and trudged back up the stairs to join the celebration.

  He ran his hand through his hair, gripped it and tugged it in frustration.

  What had gone so wrong? And why? When?

  And how come he couldn’t shake the feeling that he and Sam were done before they’d even begun?

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Sam pushed away the glass of fizz that Reuben had poured for her despite her saying she didn’t want one. The beaded bubbles rising to its surface a reminder of how quickly the bubble had popped between them.

  She’d been so sure she was getting involved with someone who respected her ideas, who would trust her to do a good job, who would appreciate her for who she was – silly socks and all.

  She glanced at her unopened gift from Reuben. The rectangular package was wrapped in a bag from a sock company that specialised in boring designs and expensive merino fabric, and the sight of it had sealed her suspicions once and for all: Reuben was like every other man she’d let into her life. He wanted to change her, to control her, to mould her into the person they needed her to be.

  What’s worse was that he had them just sitting there. Women’s socks. Ready to be gifted on. Her stomach churned as she considered that they might have been meant for his wife, and in her absence he’d found someone who needed them more.

  His gentle giant front was just that – a front, and after tonight, between the critical comments, the phone call she’d overheard and the stupid sock present, she was done. She’d worked too hard to regain her self-respect to lose it for the sake of a job, for the opportunity to live in the place she’d longed to call home. Because what kind of home was a place where you constantly had to live up to someone else’s expectations? Where you had to constantly worry about being thrown out? That wasn’t a home, it was a cage.

  ‘You okay, Sam?’ Flo crouched in front of her and touched her hand to get her attention. ‘Do you need anything?’

  ‘No. I’m fine.’ The answer was automatic, as always. She didn’t need anything, and didn’t need anyone.

  Flo nodded. ‘Well, I’m here if you need to chat.’

  Sam mustered up a smile. ‘Honestly, I’m fine. You go enjoy your night. And congratulations again, you two are going to be very happy together.’ Even as she said the words she knew she meant them. Stefan didn’t hide who he was – good or bad – which led Sam to believe that he and Flo would go off, get married and live, if not a happily then definitely realistically ever after, with bouts of happiness, sadness, grumpiness and over it-ness together. ‘Would you mind if I left the celebrations a little early though?’ She pointed to her head. ‘The old noggin’s a bit sore.’

  ‘Of course.’ Flo gave her another one of her searching looks that made Sam want to squirm in her seat. ‘Get a good night’s sleep. You’ve been amazing today. We all appreci
ate it, so much.’

  Sam nodded her thanks and pushed herself up out of the chair. Stopping and saying a quiet goodnight to Harry, Matilda and Stefan before leaving. Reuben was hovering over the stereo, finding a new Christmas album to put on, which meant she could exit without having to talk to him.

  Her feet felt like they were filled with iron, making the journey up the stairs and to her room long, arduous, and a touch worrisome as she kept one ear out for being followed. All she wanted was to be left alone to pack in order to make a quick departure the next day, and then to sleep. At this point even a phone call to her mother was a waste of time – she’d see her mother soon enough. Then she’d pour out her story, knowing her mother would understand, would hug her, and would tell her she’d done the best for herself, which was more important that pleasing a man.

  Closing her bedroom door, she tugged her suitcase out from under her bed, placed it upon it, flipped it open and began pulling her clothing out of the armoire.

  Three sweaters. One pair of pants. Underwear. Fun and fanciful socks that were nothing like the revoltingly boring ones she’d left unopened downstairs.

  She was all but done when three quick knocks on her door set her teeth on edge and saw her shoulders hitch up once more. Hello, high alert.

  ‘Sam? You in there? Are you okay?’

  It was Reuben. Of course. Perhaps if she ignored him he’d move on.

  Sam zipped her suitcase and set it down on the floor, ready for tomorrow’s quick exit.

  He knocked again. ‘Sam? I can hear that you’re in there. Is everything all right? Are you not well? Can I get you something? There are dishes downstairs… Will you do them in the morning? Or—’

  So that was it? He was worried about her not pulling her weight? Her not doing the housework? Like he couldn’t bloody well rinse a few dishes and shove them in the dishwasher himself?

  The anger she’d tamped down all evening flared brighter, hotter. Sending her thoughts scrambling and her emotions soaring.