Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2)

by Holly Martin

  Well, he thought, she’s made the first move; she’s made all this effort. I can certainly make the next move. He quickly got undressed, hoping she wouldn’t look up from the pillow whilst he was standing there naked, hoping he could get into bed before she saw him. She didn’t move. She was just lying there, waiting for him. The beautiful Giselle, waiting for him.

  He got into bed by her side. ‘Giselle?’

  There was still no answer.

  His heart was pounding as he reached out for her and stroked her hair. It was a lot coarser than he thought it would be, but these women put so many products into their hair and with all the straightening and crimping many had completely damaged their wonderful locks. Libby’s hair was soft, though. He quickly put the thoughts of his best friend out of his head and brought his hand out to touch Giselle’s shoulder. To his surprise it was cold. He moved his hand down her arm and realised her arm was hard to the touch, almost like… plastic.

  A flash went off in the room and Libby’s cackle of laughter came from the wardrobe.

  He quickly sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. Turning back to the woman in his bed, he realised he had been stroking Candy.

  Libby fell out the wardrobe, laughing, holding her digital camera. ‘Oh God, that worked so much better than I thought it would,’ she cried, literally holding her sides from the pain of the suppressed laughter.

  ‘You bitch,’ he said, flushing with embarrassment.

  ‘Come on, it’s funny, it really is,’ she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Look, look at the picture.’ She dragged Candy out unceremoniously and dumped her on the floor and leapt onto the bed by his side. ‘Look.’ She showed him and even he had to laugh at himself lovingly caressing the shoulder of what was clearly a mannequin.

  ‘Oh, this is what the stuff of great blackmail is made of; this photo would be worth millions.’

  He shoved her, playfully. ‘Bitch.’

  She was unperturbed as she continued to laugh. ‘I never really expected you to believe the note, but I figured you would suss it as soon as you saw Candy in the bed. But you completely fell for it. Oh, that was brilliant.’

  He shook his head.

  She suddenly sat up. ‘And I got to see you naked. That’s revenge for the two times you’ve seen me.’

  ‘I feel so violated.’ He pulled the duvet up to his chest protectively.

  She nudged him. ‘Hey, you certainly have nothing to be shy about.’

  He blushed. How was he sitting in his bed, naked, listening to Libby talk about his penis? Life certainly wasn’t dull with her around.

  ‘Go on, get out, leave me to get dressed in peace, or there’ll be no lunch for you.’

  Libby, still giggling, rolled off the bed and left the room. He could still hear her laughing as he got dressed.

  * * *

  Seb watched the last customer disappear through the pub door and glanced across at Amy, sitting in one of the booths and studiously making her glass of wine last an extraordinarily long time. Judith hadn’t been in the pub that night. They were alone. There was nothing to stop them now. Oddly the thought terrified him. He had been awash with guilt all day, about Judith and for Marie. But fear had been the predominant feeling. If he let anything more happen between him and Amy, he would fall deeper in love with her and it would hurt even more when he lost her. And he would lose her, he knew that. Fate would take her just like it had taken Marie.

  He poured himself a glass of whisky and went and sat opposite her in the booth.

  He sipped the warm, amber liquid, letting the burn hit the back of his throat, and felt the glow spread in his stomach. He swirled it around in his glass, staring at it, hoping somehow it would give him the answers. It was a young whisky in comparison to some of the bottles he kept. Only five years old. There was an irony in there, he was sure. Five years ago his life fell apart when his wife died, while up in Scotland they were carrying on with their lives as normal, distilling whisky, ageing them in their wooden casks. Life went on. It carried on regardless even if for some people it just stood still.

  Amy reached across the table and took his hand and his eyes snapped up to hers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

  She frowned at him in confusion. ‘What for?’

  ‘For kissing you, for not being brave enough to tell Judith I wanted you more than anything. I never meant to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want. I can’t let anything happen between us, Amy, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to lead you on or to tease you. I thought I was ready to move on but I don’t think I ever will be.’

  ‘Is this about Judith, about not wanting to hurt her? She doesn’t have to know.’

  He shook his head. ‘For so long I’ve been telling myself that I never wanted to hurt her, that I couldn’t get involved with someone again because of her, but I’ve just been using her for an excuse. It’s the anniversary of Marie’s death today. Five years ago today I was standing in hospital holding her hand as she passed away. I went down to her grave today. I haven’t been for a while because it just hurts too much. I… I told her all about you, how I think she’d really like you, that you make me smile… and then it all came back, those heartbreaking feelings I felt when she died. I can’t go through that again.’

  Her face fell. ‘Damn it, Seb, so that’s it then, one kiss and it’s over – we’re just going to carry on pretending there isn’t this thing between us? It’s torture.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ He stood up, leaving the whisky on the table; it was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He bent to kiss her on the cheek, breathing her in. ‘I can’t give you what you want.’

  He turned away from her and, whistling for Jack, he headed upstairs to bed, wanting more than anything to take her hand and bring her with him.

  * * *

  As the end credits of Titanic started to roll, George turned off the TV and wiped his eyes.

  ‘George?’ Libby said, her voice slightly muffled by the duvet. ‘Are you crying?’

  ‘No, I just have something in my eye.’

  She sat up to look at him. ‘In both eyes?’

  ‘Yes, probably hay fever or something.’

  She rolled forward so she was kneeling next to him and, taking his face in her hands, she wiped his tears away.

  He laughed. ‘It’s pathetic, isn’t it?’

  ‘No, I think it’s sweet that you cry over sad films.’

  ‘But I’ve seen Titanic about twenty times, how can I still cry over it?’

  ‘Because you’re an emotional person, it’s a good thing.’

  They heard the main front door close and footsteps running up the stairs; there was a giggle that was undeniably Giselle, and she said something before she went into her own flat above them. The talking continued, but as it appeared to only be one-sided, George guessed she was on the phone.

  ‘We need to do something to bring Operation Giselle into fruition,’ Libby said. ‘You haven’t made the greatest first impression but I know she’ll fall in love with you if she had the time to get to know you properly. Are you going to ask her out?’

  He absently fiddled with one of her toes. ‘No, I’m not sure if she’s the right one for me.’ He glanced over at Libby, the woman who was perfect for him in every single way.

  ‘Oh George, you can’t let the fear of being rejected and hurt rule your life. I know it’s scary but you have to find that courage to start again.’

  He sighed quietly. If only she knew.

  ‘I just want to get it all sorted in my head, to know everything that I’m going to do and say before I do it. I want to get this right. So I know what I’m going to wear, what I’m going to say and where I’m taking her on our first date and, assuming that went well, we’d now be on to our second.’

  ‘The first date that ended with you having really dirty sex?’

  ‘Yes, now of course that will go well, she’ll be impressed with my prowess between the sheets so of course she’d want to see me again
.’

  ‘Of course,’ she said, smiling.

  ‘In all seriousness, the second date is where I have to impress her. If she thinks I’m quite nice on the first date, she might be prepared to give us a second chance. If I’m only quite nice by the end of the second date, there won’t be a third.’

  ‘You’re right; I’ve had many dates like that. Things went well on the first, there was a lot of laughter and we’d talked constantly. But that meant that by the second date there was nothing left to say. I had one torturous second date with a very, very sweet guy talking about the weather.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘OK, so what do you have in mind?’

  He opened his mouth to speak but then changed his mind, then opened it again. ‘To be honest, Lib, I have no idea. I don’t really do dating, you know that. Sinead was the last woman I dated, if you could call it that – three dates over seven weeks. The second date was so disastrously boring that I was very surprised that she called for a third. In fact, I didn’t even want to go to the third date because I knew I’d be bored out of my mind, and I was, it was like wading through treacle. Which was why I was very surprised at the end of the night, when she stuck her tongue down my ear and dragged me back to my flat to have sex.’

  ‘Yeah, sorry I spoilt that for you.’

  ‘Ah that’s OK, Lib, it was never going to last anyway. So I have no idea what constitutes a great second date.’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Well, it depends. If the first date went really well, then a repeat performance isn’t always a bad thing – a meal out or just a drink down the Bubble. I think if I found someone special, I could do the same sort of thing with them every day, long walks on Silver Cove beach, drinks down the pub, sitting by the fire in the winter, righting the world’s wrongs over a glass or two of wine.’

  George swallowed down the lump in his throat as she had just described their relationship perfectly without even realising it. The fire crackled in the fireplace, punctuating her point.

  ‘Dating doesn’t need to be a big song and dance; it’s just about spending time with the one you love,’ Libby went on.

  ‘Libby, you are so sweet, but even in my limited experience of women, I know that to be bollocks. Women like to be wooed, spoiled, lavished with jewels and pearls and only then will they possibly consider you for a serious relationship. All that stuff that you described comes much later.’

  ‘OK, OK, you’re probably right. Then your second date needs to be something different, something a little exciting. A man once took me paintballing. All that running round the woods, rolling round the ground, hunting down the enemy, running from the enemy, it was exhilarating. I was so pumped with adrenaline by the time we got home; we had the most amazing sex.’

  ‘Right, so paintballing it is then, problem solved.’

  She laughed. ‘Most girls don’t go for that sort of thing – you get covered in mud and it’s bloody painful, and the welts on your body last for weeks. But you need to do something like that, something fun and different.’

  He nodded thoughtfully. ‘OK, let me practise on you again.’ A second date with Libby would kill two birds with one stone. He would get in practice for if and when he did finally pluck up the courage to ask Giselle out, but most importantly he would get to spend romantic moments with Libby and that couldn’t be a bad thing. Pretend dates meant they could both dabble in having a relationship to see what it would be like without spoiling their beautiful friendship. Anything that might blur the line between friendship and love was definitely a good thing in his eyes. But it was safe; there was a way back: if things got too close it could just be laughed off, put down to research.

  ‘OK,’ she said.

  ‘We’ve already been out on a first date and it went well.’

  ‘Yes it did. Now, just so I can get into role, did our date end with or without the dirty sex?’

  ‘Erm… for the sake of realism, I suppose without,’ he mumbled, regretfully.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Let me take you out on a second date, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up and take you somewhere fun and then at the end of the date you can tell me how it went. Mark me out of ten, so to speak.’

  ‘Sounds good … ooh, what shall I wear?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that, it’d ruin the surprise.’

  ‘Love, surprises are good, but the girl needs to be slightly prepared. She doesn’t need to turn up wearing her favourite summer dress and high heels to find out she’s hiking twenty-five miles over the Pennines.’

  ‘Right, OK, well, just something really warm and bring a waterproof coat.’

  ‘You have a plan, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes I do.’

  ‘Right, I’m going to bed. Night George.’

  ‘Hang on, you have to sleep with me tonight,’ he said, wiggling his eyebrows in what he hoped was a saucy way.

  ‘What?’ she looked confused.

  ‘Doctor’s orders.’

  ‘The doctor ordered that I have sex with you? I didn’t know that was a prerequisite for a bang on the head, to be banged elsewhere as well.’

  ‘The doctor’s actual words were that I should keep an eye on you tonight, just in case you fell into a coma or something careless like that. I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re over there and I’m over here. Besides, you might go wandering again, you might stagger vacantly onto the beach in a confused concussed state. You’d trip, smash your head on the rocks and then the tide would come in and take your body out to sea. You’d wash up in Skegness in a few days’ time, dead and mutilated by the fishes, and they’d only be able to identify you through your dental records.’

  ‘Oh no.’

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Skegness? Really?’ she said, disdainfully.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You paint quite a picture. So what you’re saying is that if I don’t sleep with you tonight, I’ll be dead by the morning, and fish food by the afternoon?’

  ‘Yes, case in point I think.’

  ‘OK, if it’s doctor’s orders, I guess I have to,’ she shrugged. ‘Though I’m still not sure that having sex with you will help, but if it’s doctor’s orders…’

  She started walking towards the bedroom, pulling off her hoodie and throwing it over the chair, so she was only in her pyjamas. She flashed him a sexy look before she disappeared into the bedroom.

  He stared after her in shock for a second. He had expected her to laugh at his proposal and go back to her own flat. And he hadn’t actually meant that they should have sex, he’d just meant to insinuate it by suggesting that she sleep in his bed. Was Libby now lying in his bed, naked? He quickly stood up and followed her in. She was lying with the duvet pulled up to her chin. He had no idea if she was still wearing her pyjamas. Luckily he didn’t have to undress in front of her as he was already wearing his Christmas tree pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt with a huge snowman on it. He switched off the light and slipped into the bed by her side. In the light of the moon he could see her watching him and, as soon as he got himself settled and comfortable, she slid across to his side of the bed, cuddling up to him with her head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around her, swallowing nervously.

  ‘I’ve never had this with a man, not really. I never had a man who I wanted to spend all my time with. Dating is nice but it seems like a big front and, once you’re used to the person or slept with them, then no one makes any effort any more, so I don’t really miss that. But this. I like this. Did you and Josie used to cuddle?’

  ‘We never cuddled, ever.’

  ‘Oh, do you not like cuddling?’ She started to pull away but George held his arms tight around her.

  ‘She didn’t, I do. You ever want to cuddle in bed, you can come over here any time.’

  She snuggled into his side again. ‘And if Giselle is here?’

  ‘Well, there’s probably room in the bed for the three of us.’

  Libby laughed. ‘We could make a George sandwich.’

&
nbsp; ‘Yes, I like the sound of that, a rose between two thorns.’

  Libby laughed even louder and then she leaned up and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Good night, George.’

  He watched her close her eyes and within minutes she was fast asleep. Though it took significantly longer for him to go to sleep. It had been a long time since he’d had a woman in his bed. And it wasn’t just any woman, his best friend, the most beautiful woman in the world. Every time he dozed off, he kept waking himself back up to check he wasn’t imagining it. She lay there all night, with her head on his chest, arms wrapped round him, their legs entwined, her breath warm on his neck. It didn’t matter that they weren’t making love, this was infinitely better. It was quite simply the most beautiful moment of his life and he never wanted to let her go.

  Chapter Nine

  Libby woke the next morning and smiled to find that she had spent the whole night wrapped in the arms of her best friend. She also found she had a burning desire to write. She carefully extracted herself from George’s arms without waking him and left a note on the pillow that said:

  Last night was amazing, thank you Big Boy x

  before heading back over to her flat.

  Unfortunately as she opened the door to George’s flat and walked out she came face to face with Giselle who was heading out the main front door. She faltered for a moment as she saw Libby, clocking her pyjamas and her hair everywhere, and pennies quite clearly dropped into the wrong place. Giselle quickly regained her smile and hurried out the flat, leaving Libby with her mouth flapping as she desperately tried to think of a reason why she could be leaving George’s flat in her pyjamas so early in the morning. The door closed behind Giselle and Libby sighed. George’s chance with her was getting slimmer by the day.

  She couldn’t let it distract her though, she was inspired to write for the first time in months and she had to get it down before she forgot it completely.