A Little Christmas Faith (Choc Lit)

by Kathryn Freeman

  As her gaze shot up to meet his, he was struck again by how pretty she was. ‘Oh dear.’ Her eyes – actually closer to green than to brown, yet neither colour fully described them – flicked between him and the decoration-strewn hallway.

  ‘I’m sure your other guests will appreciate them,’ he found himself saying.

  ‘I hope so.’ She sighed. ‘Still, if you see an elderly gentleman with a slight paunch, feel free to share your thoughts with him. You’ll find a kindred spirit.’

  ‘Your dad?’ he hazarded, though it wasn’t a difficult deduction considering her parents were the only other guests.

  ‘Yes. He isn’t a fan of my festive attempts either.’

  The disappointment in her voice tugged at something deep inside him and for once Adam wished he didn’t hate this time of year. Wasn’t tortured by memories. He felt a crazy desire to apologise, though it was hardly his fault he didn’t like Christmas. So instead he decided to change the subject. ‘Your website said you have a gym here?’

  Instantly her face brightened. ‘Yes. Let’s drop the case off in your room and I can show you that and the restaurant. It’s not a big hotel so you won’t get lost.’

  ‘Jason said you’d just opened it.’ Silently he gave himself a shake. What the hell was he doing? He didn’t ask questions, didn’t elicit conversation. Didn’t speak until spoken to.

  Oblivious to his shock, Faith smiled and began to give him a run-down of how she’d found the hotel for sale when she hadn’t really been looking, but realised she had to have it. ‘I’ve worked in the hotel industry since I left university and always wanted to have my own one day. Coming across The Old Mill by accident seemed like an omen. Someone up there telling me to change my plans. Now was my time. Mind you, it hasn’t been plain sailing since then.’

  He started to zone out as she talked about all the changes she’d made since buying it, though as he followed her down the corridor he enjoyed hearing the soft lilt in her voice. Appreciated the passion that burned from her eyes each time he caught her gaze.

  She came to a stop by a giant oak door. ‘This is you.’

  Chapter Three

  Faith’s pulse sped up a few notches as she opened the heavy wooden door to the Cullin Stone suite.

  Standing back to let Adam Hunter in, she offered up a silent prayer. Please God, let him like his room. It hadn’t exactly been a smooth start, what with Chloe and her unique brand of hospitality, and him standing amidst her heavily decorated hall and telling her he’d come to escape Christmas.

  His confession, or rather the expression on his face as he told her, was still etched on her memory. He’d looked lost, haunted. The words seemingly ripped out of him against his wishes. She’d had to bite her cheek to stop asking him a flood of questions, because she knew a private man when she saw one. And she suspected this one was probably already regretting telling her as much as he had.

  ‘Is the room okay for you?’ She stepped inside, trying to see the suite through his eyes. The big wooden bed had been plenty large enough when she’d checked it earlier, but now it looked too small for the man who towered over her. Just as the deep purple sofa in the far corner looked too feminine, the cushions too much. Adam Hunter looked like a man who favoured worn brown leather.

  ‘It’s fine. Thank you.’

  Though the words weren’t terribly reassuring – fine? – his eyes were warm.

  ‘Would you like me to show you how anything works? You know, the television, the shower? There’s a small kitchenette with a microwave and a fridge. The hotel has wifi, the code is on the card on the desk. There’s a spare blanket in the top of the wardrobe. That’s where you’ll find an iron and ironing board, too. In the wardrobe, I mean, not on top.’ Good God, someone stop her rambling. How many guests had she shown to their rooms over the years, so why was she making such a hash of this one? Because he was the first in her own hotel?

  Or because she was aware of him in other, less professional, ways?

  He shrugged off his coat, throwing it onto the bed, and her eyes ran far too eagerly over the physique he’d revealed.

  When she realised his bulk was down to pure, solid muscle, she felt her blood heat.

  ‘I can take it from here.’

  His quietly spoken words jolted her from her lustful thoughts. ‘Okay then.’ For a second she stood, flummoxed and flustered, her natural ease with strangers having deserted her.

  ‘The gym?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ She clutched at the door handle, signalling for him to go first. Damn, she needed to sort herself out. Taking a deep breath she followed him out, trying to ignore the huge expanse of his back. The taut buttocks beneath the dark jeans. When she opened her mouth to speak, her voice caught in her throat and came out with a husky edge to it. ‘Turn right. Past the restaurant.’

  The gym was at the back of the hotel. The original owners had used it as another bedroom but Faith was positioning The Old Mill as a high-end, boutique hotel. It meant she could charge more. It also meant she had to provide more.

  ‘Cullin Stone suite.’ He glanced sideways at her. ‘Where does that come from?’

  Her embarrassing meltdown eased as she was able to focus back on the hotel. ‘Ah yes. Cullin stones are a type of millstone. Made from a dark blue or grey lava, they come from Germany. I believe they were also known as Blue Stones, or Cologne stones …’ She trailed off. ‘But you probably don’t want to know any more than that.’

  He gave her dry smile. ‘Consider my millstone education now complete.’

  Faith started to wonder who had embarrassed themselves most over the last fifteen minutes, herself or Chloe. And had it seriously only been fifteen minutes?

  ‘Here you go.’

  She pushed open the door with a flourish, her satisfied gaze sweeping over the two treadmills, exercise bike and step machine. The floor was a dark hard wood and in the corner, there was a rack of gleaming chrome dumb-bells. Fitting it out had blown the budget she’d set aside, but Faith had figured she’d use it herself so would be saving on gym fees in the long run.

  A mirror ran the width of the room. Faith caught Adam’s eyes in it – and her heart sank.

  ‘Is it not what you wanted?’

  He looked over at the dumb-bells, and then down at himself. ‘I was hoping for weights.’

  ‘Well, it is Christmas,’ she said with false cheer. ‘Maybe you can give yourself a break from them.’

  His face turned from disappointment to something that looked like horror. ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Can’t?’ It seemed an odd word in the circumstances. Unless. ‘Oh, are you a body builder? Do you have a competition coming up?’

  If he hadn’t looked horrified before, he did now. ‘Bloody hell, no.’ He seemed to become aware of how blunt his response had been because he grimaced. ‘Sorry. I just …’ His huge chest rose as he sucked in a breath. ‘Exercising and weights are what keeps me sane.’

  The words were said lightly, yet there was a darkness to his expression, a sadness in his eyes that suggested there was a degree of truth behind what he’d said.

  ‘Oh.’ All her disappointment channelled itself into that single word. She felt so deflated. Two years of anticipation, of planning, and she was finally showing her first guest round. Only he didn’t like Christmas, and he needed a gym designed more for Mr Universe rather than for the average person.

  She’d like to bet his feet hung over the edge of the bed tonight, too.

  Tears pricked at her eyes and for a horrified moment Faith thought she might cry.

  Adam stared at the treadmills, the rack of dumb-bells. This wasn’t a gym, it was a bedroom with a few machines in it.

  Damn it, why hadn’t he checked when he’d made the booking that the hotel’s version of gym, and his version, were the same?

&nbs
p; A deep, frustrated sigh burst out of him before he had a chance to stop it. He hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said lifting weights kept him sane. He craved the burn, the adrenaline. Exercise so intense he didn’t have time to think about anything else. The hours he spent doing it had lessened a little over the years, but it was still the only therapy that had ever really worked for him.

  ‘I’m sure we can find you a gym nearby,’ Faith said quietly. She gave him a smile that might have worked had it not been for the tell-tale glisten in her eyes. Or the droop of her shoulders. She looked like she’d just had the stuffing knocked out of her.

  And he’d been the bastard to do it. With a heavy heart he studied the room again, trying to see it from her point of view. The neatly stacked white towels, the expensive wood floor that matched the dark wood of the dumb-bell rack. The thoughtful drinks fridge filled with bottled water. ‘It’s an excellent exercise room,’ he stated firmly. ‘I’m sure your other guests will appreciate it.’

  Her lips twisted in an ironic smile. ‘Are these the same guests who’ll love the Christmas decorations?’

  He winced. Turns out he wasn’t just her first guest. He was her guest from hell. ‘It’s a great place you have here,’ he continued doggedly, determined to give her something to smile about. He liked her real smile; the one that made her eyes dance.

  ‘Just not what you were after.’

  ‘I didn’t say that. I’m sure everything else will be just what I’m looking for.’

  Finally she turned to look at him. ‘Does that include the carol singers I’ve booked for tomorrow.’ His face fell. ‘And the Father Christmas I’ve hired to wake all the guests up with a ho, ho, ho every morning?’ He was just about to pick his jaw up from the floor when he caught the laughter in her expression. And shocked the hell out of them both by laughing back. It was an odd sounding noise, rusty from underuse, but it didn’t seem to bother her because the smile was back on her face.

  ‘I’m not your ideal first guest, am I?’ he said after he’d caught his breath.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. If you don’t trash the room, and don’t write a scathing review about the stroppy teenager who greeted you, or the poor exercise equipment, I’ll feel it’s a win.’

  Adam found himself sharing a smile with her again as they walked back down the corridor. It was the first time in years he’d noticed the colour of a woman’s eyes, the curves of her body. The cute snub end to her nose.

  The first time in three years since he’d really laughed.

  Within no time at all, he was back outside his room.

  Faith’s pretty hazel eyes glanced towards the door before drifting back up at him. ‘I’ll slide a note under your door with the address of the closest gym.’ Her lips curved. ‘A real one, with weights.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  There was an awkward pause. Suddenly he wanted to ask her something, anything to keep her talking, which was frankly weird because he hated conversation. He was saved from having to think of that something – and wondering why he wanted to think of something – when two balls of white and brown fluff came barrelling towards him.

  Faith let out a strangled cry. ‘Nip. Tuck. What are you two doing here? Did I not shut the door properly?’ She crouched down, patting the yapping dogs, kissing their ridiculous squished faces.

  Not for the first time since he’d met her – and it had been less than an hour ago – Adam found he was trying not to smile.

  Faith shot him an apologetic look. ‘That scathing review we mentioned. Can you leave out the unruly dogs, too?’ She gave them both a stern look. ‘Nip, Tuck. Sit.’

  The small dogs continued to yap and wag their tails, gazing up at her with utter adoration. And remaining resolutely on their feet. Faith let out an exasperated sigh and hauled them both into her arms. ‘I got them from the animal shelter when I finally moved into this place. I figured I’d have twelve months to turn them into obedient hotel dogs.’ She giggled while one of them – and who on earth could tell the difference? – licked her cheek. ‘Turns out they’re gorgeous but utterly impossible to train.’ Her eyes drifted up to his. ‘Do you have any animals?’

  ‘Is now a good time to tell you I’m allergic to animal fur?’ he deadpanned.

  She gasped, then narrowed her eyes. ‘Please tell me that’s a joke.’

  ‘It’s a joke.’ He reached out to scratch behind one of the dog’s ears. ‘But no, I don’t have any animals.’

  ‘Well let me know if you have a burning desire to see what walking a dog would be like.’

  He stared down at the pint-sized dogs in her arms – they had to be some sort of cross-breed. Whatever they were, he’d look bloody daft taking them for a walk. ‘What are they, exactly?’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, they’re Cavachons.’

  ‘Cava … what?’

  ‘Cavachons,’ she repeated slowly. ‘A cross between a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel and a Bichon Frise. I’m guessing the owners gave them up because they refuse to do anything you ask them to. Except look cute. They’re very good at that.’

  ‘Well, they’re …’ He racked his brain for a suitable description. ‘Different.’

  Faith smiled, though he wasn’t sure whether it was at him or the dog currently smothering her in slobber. ‘I’d better get them out of here before they wreck the place. I hope you have a great stay with us, Mr Hunter.’

  ‘Adam.’ He caught her eye, wondering what it was about her that made him want to put aside the formalities. ‘I think you should call your first guest by their first name.’

  She laughed softly. ‘Well then, Adam, let me know if there’s anything you need.’ Her mouth curved wider. ‘Or you could always try your luck and ask Chloe.’

  Adam was smiling as he walked back into his room.

  Chapter Four

  Eight days before Christmas

  Faith surveyed the restaurant with quiet satisfaction. Despite it being Sunday evening, there was a definite hum, and it wasn’t just from her parents who were sitting at a table by the window. She’d opened the restaurant several months ago, figuring even though the hotel wasn’t ready, The Old Mill could start to build a reputation as a place to go for a good meal. And thanks to the Italian brothers, it seemed to be working. Locals had started to eat in the cosy room with the wood-burning stove and big oak beams. With a bit of luck they would recommend the place to others, and word would get around.

  Like a heat-seeking – perhaps that should be hot-male seeking – missile, her eyes zeroed in on the tall figure sitting alone in the alcove, reading a newspaper. There was something about the sight that tugged at her heart. He looked lonely. It wasn’t just that he was sitting alone – she was used to the sight of guests staying in hotels on their own. Adam Hunter’s loneliness emanated from his eloquent grey eyes; from a face that, she suspected, rarely smiled.

  Why was a man as powerfully attractive, as vital as him, sitting alone in a hotel on a Sunday evening in the run-up to Christmas?

  As if aware of her thoughts, he chose that moment to look up.

  Faith jumped. Damn, he’d caught her staring. More correctly, he’d caught her ogling, though hopefully from this distance he wouldn’t be able to detect the difference.

  He gave her a cautious smile and her heart fluttered in response, drawing a sharp breath from her. When was the last time she’d felt this tingle of awareness, of excitement, just looking at a man? It had to have been Patrick, though try as she might she couldn’t recall the feeling; she could only recall the sadness at the way their relationship had petered out. The following two years had been a hard slog, with no time for the lighter side of life; flirtation, romance. All totally worth it, she thought with quiet satisfaction as she glanced around the room. Her restaurant, in her hotel. But surely it wouldn’t do any harm to enjoy a few moments in the company of thi
s man who made her remember she wasn’t just a hotel owner. She was also a woman.

  Pulse hammering, she began to stride towards him, her route taking her past her parents.

  ‘Darling.’ Her mother reached out to grab her arm. ‘Where are you off to in such a hurry?’

  Faith turned so her back was facing Adam, just in case he could lip read. ‘I’m going to say hello to my guest,’ she whispered. ‘He’s the one in the alcove.’

  Shamelessly her mother craned her neck to stare at the man in question. ‘Oh heavens. He’s, well …’ Picking up the menu, she started to fan herself. ‘I can see why you’re rushing past your old fogey parents.’

  ‘I dispute both old and fogey.’ Her father dipped his head, taking a much more surreptitious look. ‘Big fella.’

  Faith smothered a laugh. ‘Thanks for the keen observation, Dad.’

  ’Go on.’ Her mother flapped her hand in the general direction of Adam. ’Don’t keep your guest waiting.’ Then she leaned closer.’ Maybe you can introduce us later. You know, we’re guests, he’s a guest.’

  ’And why would you want an introduction?’ her father asked mildly.

  A wicked smile crept over her mother’s face. ‘He may like the more mature lady.’

  ‘I’m just going to check he’s happy with his room,’ Faith told them both firmly. ‘Not to chat him up for myself or my mum.’

  ‘Then you’re missing a trick, dear.’ Her mother winked. ‘You won’t get too many guests looking like that. Enjoy him while he’s here.’

  Faith rolled her eyes as she turned away, stifling a laugh when she heard her father mutter. ‘What’s he got that I haven’t?’

  The closer Faith got to Adam’s table, the more her confidence began to ebb away. What did she say to him? Hello, mind if I join you? Did that sound as if she was coming on to him?

  At that cringeworthy thought her steps faltered, but she could hardly stop now. Not when it was so obvious she’d been walking towards him. You’re just checking your guest is happy, she reminded herself. He didn’t – and wouldn’t – know she was crushing on him. Drawing back her shoulders, she slipped on a professional smile as she neared his table.