Something Beginning With Mistletoe (Something Borrowed Book 3)

by Louisa George

  ‘Faith Langley, is there something else you need to tell us?’ Chloe. Oldest friend. Traitor. When she’d first been seeing her new man Vaughn she’d been very quiet about it all. The last thing she’d wanted was to talk about it, but yet here she was wanting Faith to spill.

  Faith shook her head. ‘There is nothing more to tell. Nothing at all.’

  ‘Because, if, say, you’d kissed him on his doorstep, then that would be something worth talking about.’

  Anjini Singh, I will kill you.

  How did she do it? How did she know everyone’s business?

  Jenna’s eyes grew wide and she squealed. ‘Kissing him? Faith? Really? I thought you didn’t like him? I was worried you might kill each other. Not kiss! Oh my God!’

  Didn’t like him? Problem was, she liked him a little too much. And she knew exactly where that would lead her—feeling empty and lonely and trying to mend a broken heart. So really it was a blessing in disguise that he was avoiding her. She shrugged, trying to cool the flush on her skin at the memory of the kiss by leaning back against the cold window glass. Unfortunately, the heat was inside her, so no amount of icy glass was going to help.

  ‘It was a mistake. Nothing.’

  ‘A kiss isn’t nothing.’ Saskia crossed her long legs and frowned. She’d been badly hurt by an ill-fated affair and had vowed never to get involved with anyone again. So, to her, a kiss was a huge step.

  It was to Faith, too.

  Anjini laughed. ‘Wasn’t it any good? Bad breath? Garlic? Tell him he should eat parsley, that helps.’

  Hot chocolate. Ice cream. Not garlic. Faith couldn’t help laughing. ‘No, it was very good indeed. He’s just…’ She thought about Blake’s lovely family and the closeness they all shared. About the Christmas tree, his expensive wine. Glitter. His love for coffee. ‘He’s just not my type. It was a mistake I won’t be repeating.’

  As if on cue Geri popped her head round the door. ‘Sorry to bother you Faith, but there’s that hot man you keep talking about, from across the road—Bigshot Delathingy—asking for you.’

  Hot man? Was nothing private around here? No, it wasn’t. And generally she was grateful for their friendship, but this time her cheeks burnt as bright as the log fire in the grate.

  Because now she had to go and face him.

  ***

  A mistake I won’t be repeating.

  Ouch.

  But Blake’s instinct to leave some time for things to settle had been the right one. All well and good to have the hots for someone, but not wise to follow through. Which was great in principle, but the moment she walked through that partition door he was right back to wanting to kiss her again, even if the first time had been a mistake.

  Her eyes were darker today, her mouth fixed for a fight, or tension. Whichever. As far as he was concerned it just looked ripe for kissing. ‘Hi, Faith. Sorry I couldn’t make it yesterday. I had a crisis over at one of my projects in Docklands and couldn’t get away.’

  And he’d used it as an opportunity to get some perspective. Randomly kissing women wasn’t his usual mojo. Life was complicated enough without factoring in feisty females.

  Her cheeks burned red and she shoved her hands into the pockets of jeans that were tucked into knee-length black boots. She was wearing a knitted top of the palest pink that slashed across her chest above her breasts. Breasts, he knew, that fitted so perfectly into his hand.

  Regardless of his determination not to take what they’d shared any further, a spike of lust shot through him as she looked at him. Not smiling. Not…anything. She was closed off. Which, for a woman who normally wore every emotion in her stance and her movements, was a danger signal.

  ‘Not a problem. It’s a busy time of year. If you don’t mind we’ll keep this short.’ She glanced behind her, at the closed off room, then came closer. ‘I’m in a meeting. How’s Freddie doing?’

  So she was definitely doing the arm’s length thing. Okay, he could do that too. But his heart warmed that she’d be concerned about his nephew. ‘Much better. They’re just keeping an eye on his temperature in case he gets an infection, but he should be home—or rather, with me—by the day after tomorrow.’

  She frowned—not angry, but confused. ‘They’re not going to their house?’

  ‘No.’ He didn’t need to go into the caravan story. Brad and the kids would be out of there soon enough. ‘So I need to go to the wholesalers before they all descend on me. I’m planning on a trip tomorrow morning. You want to come?’

  ‘No. Thanks.’ She wrapped her arms around her body. A barrier. There she was, all spooked again at the thought of it. He didn’t want to press her for more details; she’d either tell him one day or she wouldn’t. Don’t get involved was definitely the mantra he was sticking with. ‘Okay. Should I go ahead and just get everything from the list?’

  ‘Sure.’ She nodded.

  ‘You don’t mind not choosing?’

  ‘It’s a special kind of hell for me, so no, go for your life. No holly, because it’s prickly and the children could hurt themselves.’

  He wasn’t sure he liked this automaton Faith. Sure, the other one flared up and down and spoke exactly what she was thinking and feeling. Many would think it was a problem that she was so direct. But he kind of liked it. Admired that she was passionate about things and stood her ground. Liked the way she didn’t hold back. Liked the way she’d reacted when he kissed her. He wanted to see that Faith now. So he tried something out. ‘What about mistletoe?’

  ‘No mistletoe.’ She stiffened, the hot pink on her cheeks flushing across her face and neck. Her eyes darted straight to his then to the partition again. She definitely did not want whoever it was behind that wall to hear this conversation. ‘No way. Never.’

  Good, a reaction. He wanted more. ‘You want to talk about what happened the other night?’

  ‘No.’ Taking him by the arm, she marched him across to the front door, nodding and smiling to two old guys propping up the bar and a couple sitting at a table. When she spoke her voice was little more than a whisper. ‘Look, it was a stupid thing to do. Please just forget it happened.’

  ‘Not stupid, Faith. Very good actually. I enjoyed it. I certainly don’t regret it and I don’t think I can forget it. But you’re right—it is definitely a mistake to kiss someone who isn’t your type.’

  Her hand went to her mouth. ‘God. You heard me?’

  ‘As you seem to be aware, the partition is very thin.’

  ‘I didn’t know you were behind it.’ Her green-blue eyes narrowed. ‘Listening.’

  He couldn’t help smiling. ‘I wasn’t listening. I just heard you. For the record, you aren’t my type either.’ Case in point: the ex who’d thrown everything he’d held sacred back in his face. He’d do well to learn from that instead of pushing Faith for emotion and reaction.

  She nodded. Arms planted firmly across her chest again. ‘Well that’s settled then.’

  ‘Is it? Because I’m beginning to think I’ve been choosing the wrong type all along.’

  Now he was starting to sound like her, speaking before thinking.

  For a second she looked up at him and their gazes locked. The tension between them tugged tighter. A mixture of pure chemistry and biology. Heat and want. And a smattering of panic. ‘It doesn’t really matter what you want or think, Blake, because I’ve already decided. Nothing else is going to happen between us. Okay? I have a problem with relationships. They don’t work for me and I prefer to be on my own. Please, let’s leave it.’

  The don’t get involved part of his plan clearly wasn’t happening; he was already far too interested in Faith Langley and what it was that made her eyes so haunted at times. But not just that, with her kindness to his family she’d slipped under his skin. Plus, there was that kiss. That damned kiss that had left him hungry for so much more. And he had no doubt that a kiss like the one they’d shared could ever be a mistake.

  But he had to stick firm to the next part of his pl
an, which was to remember Stacey. Ice ran down his spine at the memory. ‘Okay.’

  ‘And I can’t ever come over to your place again, because I spent most of yesterday trying to get rid of glitter from my clothes. I think some of it is now part of the actual fabric of my top. And I trod it through the bar and had to hoover it up. Twice.’

  She smiled then, and it felt as if they’d broken through the awkwardness. It had been a fine kiss. The best, actually. But neither of them wanted more. He could live with that. At least his head could. His body was behaving entirely independently and strained for one more touch of her fingers on his bare skin. Lower this time…

  Where were they? Oh yes. Glitter. ‘I know. I’ve taken to having a fluff remover roller in my car.’

  Laughter filtered through from behind the partition. Women’s voices. Faith’s eyes darted back to the wall. ‘I really need to go. God knows what they’re planning now.’

  He followed her gaze. She spent a lot of her time with him saying she should be somewhere else. A man could start to take that personally. She was forever running away from intimacy. Why? ‘Problem?’

  Her smile grew brighter and she laughed. ‘No. It’s just book club.’

  ‘And they’re planning things you need to be worried about? What kind of things? Talking loudly in the library? Turning over the page corners instead of using bookmarks? Gasp. What?’

  ‘No. It’s a book club, but we don’t talk about books. We barely manage to read them.’ She rolled those aqua eyes. ‘Duh.’

  Sometimes things just didn’t make sense to his logical brain. Women, mainly. This one in particular and the effect she was having on him. ‘So what do you talk about?’

  ‘Everything. Life. Wine. Chocolate. Family. Kids. Important things.’ Her eyes misted a little. Heat. And he guessed she wasn’t thinking about book club at all. The kiss may well have been a mistake, but she sure as hell had enjoyed it. Good to know.

  ‘I’ll leave you to your club then, and bring the decorations over when I get them. Is that okay?’

  ‘Sure.’ Her arms relaxed a little and her shoulders dropped. Great. She was starting to relax now he was leaving. The sexual tension springing back and forth between them, tugging and pulling, was giving him a headache. She started to walk towards the partition door. ‘Before opening time if possible.’

  ‘Nine thirty? Should have it sorted by then.’ Sleep eluded him these days, what with the bar opening next week, his brother’s problems, and Faith. Yeah, mainly Faith. He had so many unanswered questions about her. One of them was what the hell this strange feeling was in his chest whenever he was with her.

  She gave him a sort of half-wave. ‘Okay.’

  ‘And no mistletoe. Absolutely sure?’

  She shook her head. ‘No mistletoe.’

  Which really was a damned shame.

  Chapter 6

  Snow was falling thick and fast now, making many of the market stallholders stamp their feet and rub their arms as they served the trickle of customers braving the weather this early in the morning. The commuters had all left for work, so it was just the local shoppers and tourists who were starting to file through the area.

  Faith loved this time of day; watching the market come to life. She loved the vibrant colours of Jenna’s flowers on stands outside her shop next door, the beautifully stacked fruit and vegetables on the stalls down the street. Loved listening to the hawkers shouting out their daily deals and hearing the different styles of music coming out of the new vinyl shops popping up and down the road, and the soulful voices of the decent buskers jamming out well-known songs that had people whistling and smiling as they walked down the street.

  Thank God the violin woman hadn’t set up already. No one would be smiling then.

  Having opened the curtains, Faith now flung open the heavy front door to let fresh, cold air wash through the pub. She just wished it could wash through her too and make her feel as if she was back on an even keel again.

  So she’d survived the conversation with Blake. She’d resisted the urge to touch him by gripping her arms around her chest. Managed a reasonably coherent conversation and hadn’t blurted anything embarrassing out.

  Things were looking up. So much better when you were completely in control of your emotions. She could manage this. All she had to do was see out the decorations and the party and she’d be fine.

  I am woman, hear me roar!

  And then he appeared in the doorway and her stomach knotted in a spectacular act of mutiny, even though she could barely see him for the branches of a huge fir tree in his arms. She inhaled a ragged breath. Steadied herself. ‘Hi, Blake.’

  Casual and coherent. Good going, girlfriend. You’ve got this.

  A muffled voice spat pine needles. ‘Eurgh. Doesn’t taste as good as it smells. Morning, Faith. Are you ready for this?’

  Not really. Not for him, or this. She ran her palms down her jeans. She could do it. It was time to move forward. She still holding on to self-control by her fingertips. But holding on nevertheless. ‘Of course.’

  ‘We’re going to need a big bucket.’ He hefted the tree up and his navy blue sweater lifted, bringing his T-shirt with it. Her eyes zoned in.

  ‘Um. Check.’ She robotically pointed to a red bucket she’d already filled with sand, not thinking about the bucket or the sand or the tree but about the expanse of skin she could see between the hem of his top and the low waistband of his jeans. He was a rich property developer who looked at spreadsheets and architects’ drawings all day, so he had no right to have abs like that: ripples of perfect, honed muscle covered in olive skin. Her mouth dried. ‘Ready and waiting. That is…the bucket. Not me. I mean—’

  Shut the hell up.

  His voice was laced with a laugh. ‘Excellent. Where do you usually put it up?’

  ‘Out the front. But I’ve opened the partition so we can take it right through to the back for the party. That way it won’t get knocked.’ Or fall over.

  And there again were the images of her grandfather, and the tight feeling in her chest spread. She shook her head. Not now. This was meant to be a happy thing to do. She hated that she felt this way about Christmas—she wanted to feel happy and excited by the whole thing like everyone else.

  She lifted her gaze and saw Blake watching her. He leant the tree against the bar and came over. Took hold of her hand and walked her to one of the upholstered seats along the side wall. ‘Sit.’

  ‘I don’t want to sit.’ Because she already knew what he was going to ask her and it was too much. She didn’t want to go there. ‘We need to do the decorations.’

  ‘Do as you’re told, for once. Sit down, Faith.’

  Then he walked behind the bar, grabbed a glass and poured in a double measure of her best brandy.

  ‘Hey, that’s going to cost me.’

  ‘And now it isn’t.’ He pulled out a twenty-pound note and left it on the bar. After bringing the glass over to her and pushing it into her hands, he sat down opposite her. ‘Drink.’

  ‘It’s nine forty in the morning.’

  ‘Okay, then talk without it. But I think you’ll find it easier with some of this inside you.’ He leaned back in the seat, folded his arms and waited. He clearly wasn’t going anywhere until she told him everything. Damned beautiful, intransigent man.

  It didn’t make it any easier. In fact, all she wanted to do was crawl onto his lap and kiss him again. ‘But—’

  ‘No buts…’ His eyes never left hers. ‘Drink. Or talk.’

  ‘You are so annoying.’ But she did as she was told and took a sip. The liquid coated her throat and slipped easily into her belly, heating her. He was right. It did make her feel just a little bit better, or at least braver. So did he. Just being here.

  ‘I know, I’m infuriating and irritating. Brad tells me all the time. I don’t care. Tell me about your grandfather.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’ Because it was going to hurt. Doing the decorations was bad enough, but wall
owing in grief too? What kind of masochist did he think she was?

  ‘I don’t care what you want. What you are going to do is talk. Hell, you give me your thoughts on everything else without me even asking for them. But the important stuff is locked away. Talk, Faith, before this eats you up. You’ll feel better. I promise.’

  She seriously doubted she’d ever feel better about Christmas, no matter how much she wanted to. ‘We haven’t got time.’

  ‘Geez, you think I’m annoying? I am nothing on you.’ His pupils flared. She thought he might start to get angry, but he didn’t. In fact, the opposite; his voice became kinder. ‘Look, Faith, we have all the time you need. I can come back to do the decorations later. Tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s too close, we need to get it done.’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Then the clock is ticking. You need to start talking.’

  This wasn’t something she talked about, not even to Chloe or Jenna, but pressure was building up in her chest and suddenly the urge to tell him was almost too hard to fight. ‘What if I cry? What if it doesn’t make anything better?’

  He shoved his hand into his pocket and pulled out a pristine white cotton handkerchief. ‘Use this.’

  She almost laughed. ‘Are you from eighteen fifty-six? No man carries cotton handkerchiefs these days.’

  He shrugged. ‘You haven’t met my Aunt Annabelle. She made sure we always had a clean one. She is from another century.’

  Interesting. She was about one hundred and fifty and had a hold over the impressively assertive Blake Delacourte. ‘Must be quite a woman. You always do what she tells you to do?’

  ‘Again, you haven’t met her. But we’re not going to talk about her, we’re going to talk about your grandfather. Gramps.’

  So he wasn’t going to leave her alone. He just wasn’t, and neither was the pain in her chest. So maybe he was right—maybe talking would help. She took a deep breath and tried, very hard, to stay removed from emotion. But just saying the words made her heart ache with a ferocity that caught her off guard. ‘He died.’