But as they fell into step, she relaxed again. Despite the hiccup of that kiss, she enjoyed being around him. She found him fun – in a dour kind of way. He was reserved, a little uptight, very pessimistic and grumpy too, but she understood him. She got why he was so down on life – who wouldn’t be after what he’d been through? – and she felt … What did she feel exactly? An affinity with him.
Plus, she enjoyed their teasing. When he called her Pollyanna it set off sparks inside her, and she loved teasing him back. Perhaps by doing so she was even helping him in a small way. It wasn’t much, but if she could make him smile even once, wouldn’t that be better than if he hadn’t smiled at all?
‘I didn’t know Luc had a place of his own in France,’ she said. ‘I thought they always stayed at his family’s château.’
‘He bought the villa a long time ago and renovated it. But now that he’s healed the rift with his father, he prefers to stay at his parents’ place. They have plenty of room.’
She thought of how Luc had given him the keys. ‘Have you been to the villa before?’
‘Several times. I use it for business trips. It’s in the country – handy for visiting my suppliers and their vineyards. And it’s peaceful, too. Secluded. My kind of place,’ he added.
She smiled, but felt a pang at the thought of him alone on a business trip when everyone else would be with their families, celebrating. They approached his old Bentley and the crescent moon’s reflection in the windscreen made her look up.
‘Isn’t it a beautiful night?’ she said softly. The moon shone so brightly, lighting the linen-like drifts of cloud that slid silently and serenely beneath it.
‘It’s cold enough to get frostbite.’ He pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat.
‘I’d have thought you’d like the cold, Mr Arctic.’ His lips were tight, but she saw the amused glint in his eye. ‘How does your car fare in this weather?’
They crossed the road. ‘Fine. The salt on the roads doesn’t do her bodywork any good, but she starts without any problem.’
‘Your car’s a she?’
‘Definitely.’ His eyes creased and Evie felt a coil of heat unfurl from her centre. It was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard she tried.
She giggled. ‘How long have you had it – I mean, her?’
‘She’s been roadworthy for five years now, but I bought her a few years before and it took a good while to have her restored.’
‘She wasn’t in good condition?’
‘Terrible. Eaten up with rust and needed a lot of replacement parts – but we found them all eventually.’
‘Couldn’t you use new ones?’
He threw her a look of mock outrage. ‘That wouldn’t be authentic! No, I hunted all over the world for the original parts. But my patience paid off. Now she goes like a dream. I can’t imagine being without her.’
She remembered he’d said almost the same thing about Smoke the night the dog had gone missing. And, now she thought about it, wasn’t there a parallel between having lovingly restored his old car and having nursed the injured, frightened puppy back to health? Jake Hartwood was a man who didn’t commit easily, she could tell, but when he did it was irrevocable.
Like his undying love for his wife, she thought, feeling the bite of envy. She bowed her head and kept her gaze on the cobblestones underfoot. Beneath that abrasive exterior there was a strongly beating heart.
‘Did you know she has a heated rear window?’ he said.
‘Er – no.’
‘Quite astounding for a car built in 1952. It’s a privilege to drive such a rare piece of history.’ His eyes lit when he was talking about the car, and he looked so animated, the silent battle to overcome his grief momentarily gone. It made her wish she could erase it completely.
She grinned. ‘Well, it takes one to know one.’
‘Are you saying I’m old?’ His eyes glistened in the golden glow of the streetlamps. ‘I’m only thirty-five!’
‘Practically antique.’
He shook his head, but she saw his lip curl and she was relieved they could still laugh together, that they’d managed to leave behind any awkwardness.
They arrived at her cottage and stopped. She glanced at the wreath on her door and the mistletoe berries that shone white, like the moon. ‘Well, here we are.’ Evie shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. Her cheeks felt warm and she knew that wasn’t just from the walk. She hoped the street lighting was too dim for him to see.
‘Goodnight, Evie.’
Why did he have to have such a deep, sexy voice? In the quiet of the night it vibrated right through her and made her wish for things she couldn’t have.
‘I’m glad we can still be friends,’ she said.
‘Yes, so am I.’ He chuckled softly. ‘Good job, too. You keep turning up wherever I go.’
‘That’s village life for you,’ she said, trying to sound cheerful. Trying not to look at his lips.
Everything was still in the cobbled lane. He stood just a couple of feet away from her, within touching distance, and she longed to run her fingers along the chiselled line of his jaw, to reach up on tiptoe and press her mouth to his again.
Pretend it never happened, she had said. But her body hummed, remembering. Longing for a repeat. That kiss had woken something in her, something she’d never felt before, and she cursed it. He’d pushed her away already. Being attracted to Jake Hartwood could never lead to anything. She had to ignore it. Get over it.
‘Goodnight, Mr A,’ she said, and forced herself to turn away, to unlock her door and shut it quickly without looking at him.
Jake clicked open a spreadsheet. He was throwing himself into his work, although with just four days left before Christmas the phone had gone quiet and his inbox was almost empty. All his clients’ cellars were well stocked. Their hotels and restaurants would be snowed under with reservations right through until New Year. January was a quiet month, so he didn’t expect business to pick up until February. But the thought of all those empty days stretching ahead of him made him tense.
He picked up a pencil and tapped it absently against the desk. His gaze wandered to the window and he watched a distant plane’s vapour trail dissolve in the sky. He was still considering the possibility of a trip to France and waiting to hear whether a couple of winemakers would be around to meet him. In the meantime, he had to keep busy, keep his mind occupied, so he was getting his finances in order, and making sure he was up to date with all his paperwork. It was dull, but he forced himself to concentrate on the columns of figures.
I’m rubbish at doing accounts, Evie had said, last time she was here. I always came bottom in maths at school. Yet he’d watched her calculate in a flash how much fabric was needed for the study window.
He rubbed his face. He had to stop thinking about Evie Miller.
The sound of a car engine made him sit up, and Smoke barked. Jake hushed him. ‘It’ll be the cleaner. Sit down. Good boy.’
But the doorbell rang. He frowned. The cleaner had her own key, so it wasn’t her. He thought about ignoring it, but his phone simultaneously lit up with a message.
Answer the door. I know you’re in.
Jake stilled. Louisa was here?
Damn. There was no escaping his big sister.
Chapter Eleven
‘Jake!’ Louisa threw her arms around him in a vigorous hug.
Affection for her rolled through him. As kids they’d been close, and they’d chosen similar career paths. All through his time at medical school she’d been a constant source of advice and encouragement. It was only recently that cracks had developed in their relationship, and he regretted that, he really did. But he was powerless to change the way things were, or the way he felt.
She drew back and looked him over. Her dark bob was as glossy and tidy as ever, but he noticed faint lines around her eyes that hadn’t been there last time he’d seen her. When had he last seen her?
‘Jakey, you’re so
thin.’ She frowned. ‘Are you eating?’
He rolled his eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘Taking regular exercise?’
‘What are you now – my mother?’ As soon as he’d said it, he cursed himself because, growing up, she had been exactly like a mother to him.
After their own mother had died, they’d been raised in the care of nannies and housekeepers – which had been fine. It had been a pragmatic arrangement, and the women their father had employed to look after him and his sisters had done what was required of them. But none had provided the affection of a mother. They’d been professional and detached. Perhaps that was why Louisa, the eldest, had instinctively taken on a more maternal role with Jake and his younger sister Scarlett.
‘Smoke keeps me fit and active.’ He glanced behind him at his dog, but Smoke was hanging back, a little uncertain. He patted his head to reassure him but was surprised. He’d thought the Dalmatian had got over his fear of strangers: he’d bonded instantly with Evie.
‘Hello, Smoke,’ said Louisa, holding out her hand to the dog. ‘Remember me? You probably don’t. Jake’s made himself quite unreachable these last few months.’ She threw her brother a weak smile.
‘Not intentionally,’ he said, and regret twisted through him. He knew she’d found it difficult to understand his withdrawal these last couple of years. She was hurt by his self-imposed solitude but he was coping in the only way he could.
‘I know.’ She hugged him again. ‘But it’s not good to hide away, stewing, keeping it all locked in. It might do you good to talk about it.’
‘Is that why you’re here? I hope not.’
‘That’s not why I’m here,’ she said, and gave him a sharp look, which clearly communicated that she wasn’t at all intimidated by his clipped words. ‘I brought you gifts – we received yours, by the way, thanks – and I was curious to see your new place. See how you are. To keep in touch. I waited a couple of weeks for you to invite me, but since you didn’t …’ She shrugged, as if he’d left her no choice.
‘You thought you’d invite yourself?’ he finished mildly, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips.
She pushed her hands into the pockets of her navy padded gilet. ‘John’s got a couple of days’ annual leave. He’s taking care of the kids and doing the last-minute shopping – so I’m free to spend some quality time with you!’
‘Quality time? Right.’ He tried not to panic at the prospect of spending two full days with Louisa. She was his sister, after all.
‘You’ve got a spare room I can sleep in, haven’t you?’
‘One or two,’ he said.
‘Good. It’ll be great to catch up properly,’ Louisa went on. She peered over his shoulder to see the wide staircase, now stripped bare of all the decorations from the ball last weekend. ‘I can’t wait to see this place, and for you to show me round Willowbrook. I drove through the village on the way here and it’s gorgeous! I’ve never seen so many cute cottages.’
She picked up a small overnight bag and Jake tried to quell his panic. He had a feeling there was another reason why she’d come here. She was going to pressure him over spending Christmas with her and her family, wasn’t she?
‘So, what are you going to do for Christmas, then?’
Jake gritted his teeth. It hadn’t taken her long. A ten-minute tour of the house, and no sooner had they come down to the kitchen for a coffee than she’d launched into her offensive. ‘Louisa, we’ve been through this a hundred times!’
‘And you still haven’t answered the question. I can’t bear the thought of you being here in this enormous house alone.’
He dropped a sugar cube into his coffee and stirred it more violently than was necessary. ‘I’m not alone. I have Smoke.’
‘A dog doesn’t count! Not at Christmas!’ She took a deep breath, as if she was struggling to contain her frustration.
She wasn’t the only one.
‘Jake, why don’t you want to come to us?’ she asked more quietly. ‘Tell me. Please. I won’t be offended, I promise. I just need to understand why you’d rather be alone than with family.’
‘Louisa, it’s nothing to do with you or your family – or Scarlett’s, for that matter. It’s me. I’m not ready to face …’ he grappled for the words ‘… all the emotion that Christmas entails.’
His sister studied him closely, concern in her blue eyes. He downed his coffee and carried the cup to the sink in a vain attempt to escape her scrutiny, but she followed him with her gaze.
‘Jake,’ she said gently, ‘it’s been two years. When will you be ready?’
He gripped the cup and closed his eyes. Why did everyone have such an obsession with how much time had passed? The gap Maria had left in his life would always feel vast to him. The pain ran so deep it could never heal. But how did he even begin to explain this to those who had never experienced it?
‘There isn’t a cut-off date,’ he said. ‘There isn’t a day, a time, when you suddenly wake up and think, That’s it! I’m better now. You of all people should know that. Would you tell a patient that they should have finished grieving now?’
She held his gaze a moment longer, then sighed. ‘You’re right. I’m sorry. I’m just …’
‘Concerned,’ he finished for her. ‘I know.’
Louisa opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again. The sympathy in her eyes made him turn away. He didn’t want her pity, or to be forced into spending time with family. He’d only spoil their Christmas.
‘That reminds me,’ she said, eyes brightening suddenly. ‘Did you know there’s a vacancy for a GP in the next village?’
He rinsed his cup and put it into the dishwasher. ‘So?’
‘So you could apply.’ She sipped her coffee but watched him over the rim of her cup.
‘Why would I do that?’ He reached for a tea towel and dried his hands.
‘Because you’re a good doctor. Your skills and training are going to waste.’
Her words probed the place he didn’t like to think about. ‘They’re not.’
‘Can you honestly tell me you get as much job satisfaction from organising shipments of wine as you did from helping sick patients?’
‘You’re interfering again, Louisa.’ His voice struck a warning note.
‘I’m not! Okay, I am. But only because I care about you, Jakey.’
Louisa had been mothering him since he could remember, but couldn’t she see? He was thirty-five now, not three.
‘Actually, talking of wine shipments, there’s the possibility I might be in France for Christmas.’
‘The possibility?’
‘Yes.’
She eyed him suspiciously. Then her features lit with hope. ‘Who with?’
‘No one. A work trip.’
Her shoulders sank. ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better? You’re not only going to spend Christmas alone, but in a foreign country too.’
Damn. He’d hoped it would get her off his back, but that had backfired. Still, Louisa had helped him make up his mind: he would book his flight. Because if he stayed here, she’d only hound him right up until Christmas Day.
Smoke trotted over to him and dropped a tatty, discoloured tennis ball at his feet. It was a not-so-subtle hint that he wanted to go out.
‘Excellent suggestion, you clever dog,’ Jake murmured, and rubbed him behind the ears. He turned to his sister. ‘Why don’t we take Smoke for a walk and I’ll show you the village? We could get lunch while we’re out.’
Louisa’s face brightened, though he could tell from her forced smile that her worry wasn’t appeased. ‘A walk would be lovely.’
‘There’s only the pub and the bakery café that do food, but they’re both rather good. I was surprised. This is the bakery here,’ said Jake, as they stopped outside it. He glanced at the Button Hole next door and had to grip the lead tightly because Smoke was straining to continue to Evie’s.
Louisa peered inside. The window display was brimming with savoury ba
kes and pastries, and inside were a dozen or so small square tables. ‘Let’s stop here, then.’
He held the door open for her and they placed their orders for soup and toasted sandwiches.
‘So, there’s no American coffee chain here?’ asked Louisa, when they were seated.
‘Willowbrook isn’t that kind of village. It’s very English, very quaint, and …’
‘And what?’ she prompted.
He bit his lip. A few weeks ago he would have said ‘stuck in the last century’, and he wouldn’t have meant it as a compliment – but now? Now he’d come to know a lot of the locals by name and, of course, there had been the search for Smoke when he’d gone missing. He was still astounded at the generosity and kindness others had shown him.
‘… and there’s a real community feel,’ he finished.
Louisa arched an eyebrow, looking sceptical. ‘How do you know?’
‘Know what?’
‘That there’s a community feel. Somehow, little brother, I can’t picture you joining the local book club or volunteering to deliver meals for the elderly.’
‘It’s a small place and people are friendly.’
‘Jake, tell me the truth – have you met anyone here in the village?’
‘Yes, I have,’ he said indignantly.
‘I don’t believe you. You won’t even pick up the phone to call your own sisters – and I know because I checked that you don’t call Scarlett either – never mind speak to strangers.’
‘I’ve met lots of people.’
‘Name some,’ she goaded, pressing the same buttons she’d used when they’d been children. ‘Go on.’
He was riled. ‘Luc and Natasha, for starters …’
‘Luc doesn’t count – you knew him already.’
‘Well, there’s the cleaner, the gardener—’
‘They’re paid staff! I’m talking about friends! Have you made any friends, Jake?’
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