by Rhoda Baxter
When had he morphed from laid back and happy Vinnie, into the man most likely to marry Hayleigh Stanhope? And when had that stopped being good enough for her?
He thought about the press of Tracey lying on top of him. Of the intense desire to kiss her. Another second and he couldn’t have stopped himself. He stamped down the small niggle of guilt. He had nothing to feel guilty about. He was single now. Except, he hadn’t been single for long. He sighed. That wouldn’t be fair on Tracey. He shot another look at her across the room. She seemed so closed and private when he first met her and now she’d loosened up towards him. She clearly didn’t open up to people very often. Her friendship was a privilege. It would be a terrible thing to abuse it.
She looked across and caught his eye. He felt a stab of embarrassment that he had been staring at her. She slid off her bar stool and came over.
“Hi.” She sat down opposite him. “How’re you feeling? Have you recovered?”
For a second he didn’t know what she was talking about, then remembered. “Yes, I’ve recovered thanks. Now I’m merely exhausted.”
“But it’s a good sort of tired,” she said. “If you know what I mean?”
Weirdly, he did. It was a hard earned tiredness that came from physical exertion rather than the brain ache tiredness that he normally battled with. It was oddly refreshing. “I do know what you mean. I guess going to the gym isn’t really a substitute for getting out into the fresh air.”
“Hmm.” She pushed her hair back and tucked it behind her ear. “I’m not totally convinced. It was nice of you to help,” she said.
“It’s nice to be useful... and to be appreciated, I guess,” he said. “Lawyers don’t always get that.”
“I guess not. App developers on the other hand, either get ignored or get fawned over, depending on how well their product is doing.”
“Which one are you?” He didn’t really know much about apps, although he assumed they were harder to make than they looked. He’d done a few contracts for clients, but those had been fairly straightforward and didn’t require him to know about the work itself.
“I’ve been both,” she said. “Right now, I’m pretty much old news. It’s a fast turnover in the tech world.”
He watched her face. When she spoke about her work there was a certain bitterness. A narrowing of the eyes. It couldn’t be nice being shoved out of the limelight. “I’m sorry.”
She frowned. “What for?”
“That... um... you feel you’re old news. I assume that was a touchy subject.”
“Oh that. No. Not really. I’m not comfortable with attention.”
“So what’s annoyed you about work? Is your app not selling well?”
She laughed. “On the contrary. It was selling so well, it got bought out. The trouble is, it’s not mine anymore. I don’t have control. It’s drifting away.”
“And it was your baby.” That was it. “That must be hard. To build something up from nothing and then watch someone else mess with it.”
“Yeah.” She looked down at her hands. “I’m sure I’ll get used to it.” Again that vulnerability, hidden under the prickly attitude that she wore like a cloak.
His heart went out to her. “You know,” he said. “A patent attorney friend of mine says that she always sees the same clients over and over because if you’re the sort of person who invents one thing, you’ve got the sort of mind that will keep doing it over and over again. So if you made one app that someone wanted to buy, you’ll probably do it again.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Have you any idea what is involved in writing an app? It’s not just a flash of inspiration that’s needed you know.”
“I didn’t mean that. I meant that if you had that sort of mind—” She wasn’t looking any less annoyed, so he gave up. “Never mind. It’s probably the tiredness talking.”
She closed her eyes and breathed out slowly. “Sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry. I’m just... tired, like you say. I get snappy when I’m tired.”
He smiled. “I’ll remember that. I shall stay out of your reach for the rest of the evening. Well, beyond kneeing distance anyway.”
Her face went pink. “I really am very sorry about that. It was an accident. I didn’t mean to.”
He laughed. “I know. It’s fine. No harm done.”
The phone on the bar rang, prompting a cheer from the room.
“Phones are back up, then,” said someone. “Now we can phone council and find out when they’re going to come dig us out.”
Angie picked up the phone and spoke to whoever it was. She explained, loudly, that no one was seriously hurt, but there were elderly people who needed help sooner rather than later thank you.
Vinnie and Tracey exchanged glances. They had both seen how frightened some people had been by the sudden communications blackout. It seemed that the lack of a telephone line was almost more frightening than the thought of freezing or starving to death.
After a few more minutes, Angie hung up. She turned to face the room. “Snow plough’s coming in tomorrow.”
Another cheer. Someone shouted out, “That means we’ll be able to get home to put us glad rags on in time for the Christmas do.”
“Is the do still on?” said someone else.
“Of course it is,” said Angie. “I’ve bought all the food. It’ll take more than a bloody snow storm to stop my party.”
This time the cheer was full throated.
Vinnie cheered along with everyone else. Why not. A Christmas party, what could show spirit and defiance better than that? Once the roads were cleared, he could get back to the cottage and get a clean shirt and a jumper to wear. He ran a hand over his face. A shave wouldn’t go amiss either.
He became aware that Tracey was looking at him. He raised an eyebrow at her. “What?”
“Are you coming to the party?”
“Of course.”
Her smile was a pure delight. “Cool,” she said. “I’ll see you there.” She stood up and went across to do something behind the bar.
Vinnie realised he was smiling after her. Oh dear. Whatever it was he was feeling, he was clearly giving off interested vibes. He needed to watch that. Tracey was a nice person. He didn’t want to mess around with her feelings. Not while he was so confused by his own.
TRACEY ALL BUT CRAWLED up the stairs to bed, she was that tired. Angie had kept the bar open as usual, despite everyone being totally worn out by the day’s efforts. It took an almost superhuman effort to clean her teeth and get changed before she dropped face down onto the bed. Vinnie had gone to bed by eight pm, sensible guy. She wished she could have done the same.
She rolled over onto her back and thought of that moment in the snow. She had intended only to push him into the snow bank, but she had misjudged it, as usual and her momentum had taken her over as well. His face had been so close. She could smell his deodorant and feel the warm brush of his breath. He had incredible eyes. Deep brown with a hint of black at the edges. When his gaze held hers, she’d felt completely detached from her surroundings. Everything else disappeared until there was just her and him - the caress of his breath, the heat of his body, the beating of his heart under her palm. She had wanted to kiss him so badly it made her chest ache. But then she’d kneed him in the groin instead. She groaned. Smooth, Tracey. Smooth.
It was a wonder he was still talking to her! She’d expected awkwardness. He’d done something playful and fun and she’d responded like a nutcase... and yet he didn’t seem fazed by it. Even after the knee to the soft parts.
She sighed. This was how it went. She didn’t often meet men she was attracted to. That was part of the problem with being a girl in a man’s field. Oh, there were more and more techie women now, but they all seemed to have got themselves sorted out so that they didn’t feel the need to run and hide when someone, anyone, tried to talk to them. She’d got over that by being prickly. The ‘don’t talk to me, I’m a bitch’ vibe worked incredibly well. Giselle was the approacha
ble one in the team. You only needed one. The only problem was, when she actually wanted to drop the guard, she realised she didn’t know what to do instead.
“I’m so broken,” she whispered into the empty room. “Ugh.” She let her thoughts drift back to the few seconds when she’d been that close to kissing Vinnie. So close. Still imagining how it could have gone differently, she drifted off to sleep.
Chapter 12
The pub was packed solid with noise and tinsel. Tracey felt terribly out of place in her plain red t-shirt. She had intended to wear the one that said ‘bah, humbug’ on it, but one look at her aunt’s face had been enough to make her go change. Everyone else seemed to have gone completely mad. Harriet was wearing a ridiculous sparkly dress and earrings that flashed red and green. In fairness, she wasn’t the only one wearing LED infused jewellery, Sue and her friend Margie were wearing matching Christmas pudding earrings that twinkled. Those who weren’t wearing tasteless jewellery were wearing tasteless Christmas jumpers.
Tracey had never understood the Christmas jumper thing. Giselle had explained the concept of ‘so bad it’s good’ to her, but she still didn’t get it. Why would you buy a jumper that you could only wear for one week in the year? And why would you choose for it to be something you wouldn’t be seen dead in at any other time?
She made her way to the buffet table and helped herself to some canapes.
“Hello,” said a voice behind her. She turned to find Vinnie. He was wearing a jumper. It had a reindeer motif on it. Tracey pulled a face.
Vinnie looked down. “Um. Yeah. Just getting into the spirit of things.”
“Uh huh.”
“I see you’re not... getting into the spirit, I mean.”
“No. I don’t really get the point.”
“There isn’t really a point, is there?” He helped himself to a turkey and cranberry vol-au-vent. “It’s just a bit of fun.”
“Are we talking about the jumpers and the godawful jewellery? Or the whole of Christmas?”
“Oh Christmas has a point. It’s there to remind you what it’s like to be in close proximity with your family, so that you’re really pleased to get back to your own place. Mind you, my family don’t do that, so perhaps I don’t appreciate my own space as much as I could.” He pointed to the canapes. “These are really good.”
“I thought you get on well with your family. Perhaps the reason for that is the absence of forced Christmas fun?”
“Oh, we do forced festive fun,” said Vinnie. “Just not on Christmas day. We used to, but then we kids grew up and now my parents go down to London to an annual Christmas do. They wouldn’t miss it for anything short of a crisis.”
Tracey shuddered.
“Oh come on.” He looked around. “It’s not that bad.”
“It’s not. I’m just not good with parties.” They were tiring and there were too many people. Too many things to change focus between. Give it an hour and she’d be fighting a headache.
“Is it because of your eyes?”
“Sort of,” she said. “It’s hard to tell which parts are me being antisocial because of my eyes... and which bits are because I’m just being me.”
Vinnie didn’t say anything for a minute. Tracey felt his scrutiny and felt her skin prickling with her awareness of him. Could he see what she was thinking?
Finally, he said “Perhaps your eyes have shaped the way you view the world in more ways than one.” And Tracey knew she was lost. No one had understood her so well, so quickly before. Was it possible to fall in love in the course of 48 hours?
Vinnie, who could have no idea what she was feeling, popped the canapé in his mouth. “Mmm. This is good.” He picked up another and offered it to her. “Try it.”
Tracey hesitated. It was such an intimate gesture, but Vinnie didn’t seem to think anything of it. Her face heated up as she leaned in and took a bite, a small one so that she could be sure that she didn’t bite him or something awful like that. She chewed and nodded her head, even though she barely noticed the taste of it. Now he had half a canape left in his hand. She lifted her paper plate up, so that he could deposit it there.
“Vinnie! You came!” Harriet appeared out of the throng. “Merry Christmas!” She placed a firm kiss on his cheek, leaving a red lipstick mark. “Come and dance.”
Vinnie threw Tracey an apologetic glance over his shoulder as he abandoned his plate and was dragged in the direction of the tiny but busy dancefloor. Tracey sighed. This sort of thing always happened. If Giselle were here, she’d help her sort Harriet out, but Giselle was in America and it looked like Harriet was going to win. Arse-biscuits.
Tracey sighed again and went to see if Angie needed any help.
Angie was glad to see her and immediately gave her a list of tasks. As Tracey went about her business, she tried not to stare at Harriet and Vinnie dancing to cheesy Christmas tunes. She had no idea what a good dancer looked like, but Vinnie seemed to be throwing himself into the dancing with gusto.
After a few dances, she saw Vinnie extricate himself and go over to talk to some of the men he’d been out working with the day before. Much to her surprise, she felt her own shoulders relax a little. Was she so jealous that she couldn’t stand to watch Vinnie dancing with someone? Yes. Yes she was. In that case, she needed to do something about it. Maybe she could ask him out. How did one ask someone out? She didn’t know how to flirt. She certainly couldn’t blatantly throw herself at him the way Harriet seemed to be doing. Anyway, Harriet didn’t seem to be having much luck, so why would she fare any better?
She thought of the moment lying in the snow... and the few seconds of connection before he’d fed her a canape. There was definitely a something...
“If you want to go talk to him, I can manage here, you know,” said Angie.
Tracey jumped. “What?”
Angie smiled. “I’m just saying that he’s only booked the cottage until tomorrow lunchtime. If you’re going to do anything about how you feel... best to do it tonight.”
“I don’t... I—”
“Go on,” her aunt nudged her. “You like him. He keeps looking at you. Go talk to him. See where it goes. Or that slapper Harriet will pounce on the poor lad.”
“Only if he wants to be pounced on, though,” said Tracey. “He’s a grown man. I’m sure he could turn her down if he wasn’t interested.”
“You don’t know Harriet,” her aunt said, darkly.
They both turned to look at Vinnie, who saw them looking and raised a quizzical eyebrow.
There was a squeal from the other side of the pub. Someone had held up a bunch of mistletoe. Harriet moved towards it like a homing missile.
“Uh oh. Here’s trouble,” said someone.
Angie practically pushed Tracey out from behind the bar. “Go.”
Tracey stood there, staring. She saw Harriet grab the mistletoe and look around the pub. Someone nudged Vinnie and pointed. He turned. His eyes widened and his smile dropped.
If she was going to do anything, it had to be now. If Harriet got her claws into Vinnie, there was a real risk that Tracey would never see him again. In this microcosm, for this short time, she had been given an opportunity. She couldn’t waste it.
Tracey marched across the pub. The two women converged on Vinnie.
Harriet got there a split second before Tracey did. She waved the mistletoe. “Hey Vinnie, look what I found.” She held it up above his head.
Vinnie gave Tracey a desperate look.
“Ooh, mistletoe,” said Tracey. She stepped in front of Harriet, put a hand behind Vinnie’s neck, pulled him down and kissed him. There was a second of surprised stasis and Vinnie kissed her back. She moved her thumb along the side of his neck and there was a gratifying hitch to his breath. His hands rested on her hips, not moving, but holding firm. Her blood thundered around her body. She felt powerful, incandescent. The rest of the world disappeared. It was just her, and him and the kiss to end all kisses.
When they fina
lly drew apart there was applause and wolf whistles. Tracey felt like she’d gone up in flames. Vinnie’s hands were still on her hips, probably just as well because she wasn’t totally sure she could trust her legs.
Vinnie held her gaze, not smiling. There was a beat, two, of silence. Then he breathed out. “Wow.”
And just like that, her world went mad. She wanted him, so badly that her hands shook. “What do you say we bust out of this joint?” she said, in his ear.
“Lead on.”
She took his hand marched out, ignoring the catcalls from the audience. She didn’t stop or look back until she’d led him all the way up the stairs to the top of the house, to her room. As soon as they got in the door, he kissed her again; urgent, hungry kisses. Tracey kissed him back. His hand reached under her t-shirt and her bare skin caught fire under his palm. She pushed him backwards towards the bed. A step at a time.
He banged into something so hard that their teeth knocked together. She’d forgotten all about the sloping eaves. Vinnie dropped onto the bed. “Ow.”
She sat down next to him and turned on the bedside light. He was rubbing his head. The moment was totally ruined. “Are you okay?”
He nodded slowly. “Being with you,” he said solemnly. “Is a really painful experience.”
“I’m so sorry.” The tide of happiness and triumph was turning into anger and humiliation. Tears prickled at her eyes. “I’m such a klutz. I should have–” A tear, fat and wet and embarrassing, escaped down her cheek. Not only was she a total disaster as seduction, she was now going to ruin it further by crying on him.
“Hey.” Vinnie put his arm around her and wiped the tear away with his thumb. “I already knew you were a klutz. It’s part of your weird charm.”
It was such a preposterous comment that it made her smile. “What charm?”
“You know, the charm,” he said. “That thing you’ve got that makes me want to do this.” He kissed her, very gently, his lips lingering lightly on hers.
