All I Want For Christmas (A Sweet, Contemporary Romance) (Romance In The Lakes Book 1)

by Tracey Mayhew

  Glenn laughs. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”

  “Oh no? Just wait until Sunday; I’m sure he’ll tell you about all my forays into cooking. You know, there is a reason Holly does most of the cooking in the tearooms,” I point out.

  “Well, as long as I survive the experience, that’s all I’m interested in.” After a moment, he adds, “And, if it is that bad, we can always feed it to Yogi; he’ll eat practically anything. I say ‘practically’ because he hasn’t tried your cooking, yet.”

  “Charming!” I laugh and, for the first time in a long while, I realise that life might just be looking up.

  Chapter 24

  I’m still in a state of shock the following morning; honestly, it’s like my dad’s had a complete personality change. Even as I’m telling Holly about last night’s visit, I still can’t believe the words are coming out of my mouth: my dad’s making the effort, he’s trying to be the person he was before we lost Mum.

  “I’m so happy for you, Jess,” she gushes, throwing her arms around me. “I’m glad things are getting better between you.”

  I smile. “I owe Jackie a massive thank you,” I acknowledge. I can imagine my dad found it far easier to dismiss me than her; when Jackie’s on a roll, no one can ignore her. “I don’t think any of this would have happened without her.”

  “You’re probably right,” Holly agrees. “You’ll have to get her an extra special Christmas present,” she jokes.

  I nod, knowing she’s right. But what do I get the woman who’s just given me Dad back? I look up as I hear someone tapping on the glass and find myself looking at Glenn with Jackie beside him, grinning back at me, waving frantically.

  “What are they doing here?” Holly asks, to no one in particular as I go to let them in.

  Releasing the locks, I open the door and step back, just as Jackie bursts through.

  “The cavalry’s here!” she announces, holding her arms open wide and looking expectantly between Holly and I.

  “Here for what?” I ask, confused.

  “Well, it appears that this young man, here, has plans for you, my dear,” she declares, pointing at me.

  I glance at Glenn who’s smiling back at me. “Surprise!” he says, complete with jazz hands (yes, you heard me right: jazz hands).

  “I’m confused; what are you talking about?”

  “I’ve had this thing planned for the last couple of days,” Glenn admits.

  “What ‘thing’?” I demand suspiciously. Call me crazy but, when a guy says he has a ‘thing’ planned, it doesn’t always end happily; the last time someone said that, I ended up going to a Star Wars marathon in Leicester Square – I can assure you, nine hours of watching aliens and Ewoks running around with light sabers is not my idea of fun.

  “It’s a surprise, so I can’t tell you,” Glenn points out.

  “Oh no,” I insist vehemently, stepping away from him and shaking my head slowly, “I don’t do surprises.”

  “Now, why doesn’t that surprise me?” Glenn retorts, rolling his eyes in exasperation.

  “Don’t do surprises?” Jackie mutters, aghast. “Well, that’s the first I’ve heard about it. Come on, Jess; live a little.”

  I look at her. “Do you know what he’s got planned?”

  Jackie smiles slyly. “I may do,” she teases quietly. “And, I’m not interested in any argument you can come up with: you’re going. Understand?” She gestures at herself and Holly. “And don’t worry about this place; Holly and I will manage, perfectly well, without you.”

  I smile. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  Jackie looks at Glenn and then to me. “No,” she states flatly. “Now, get your coat and, for goodness sake, go and have some fun!”

  “Alright, alright!” I cry, holding my hands up, surrendering to their will.

  I can’t believe I’m here, of all places, and with Glenn, of all people.

  The Carlisle Christmas Market means so much to both of us, a memory of our childhoods and families, so it’s nice to see that it really hasn’t changed all that much over the years. Actually, that’s not quite true; it has got bigger, its previous successes obviously having attracted more people.

  “It looks exactly the same as I remember it,” Glenn says as we weave our way through the crowds.

  “I know,” I agree, gazing around in wonder at the strings of lights over our heads, zigzagging their way between the traditional German huts I remember so well; the smell of chestnuts and mulled wine fills the air while the Salvation Army brass band plays classical Christmas tunes in the background. “Thank you for bringing me here,” I say, nudging Glenn’s arm.

  He smiles at me. “To be honest, it was as much for me as for you,” he confesses. “When we spoke about it the other day, I just knew I needed to come back here; relive some on my youth and all that.”

  I laugh, understanding those feelings all too well; since being back here and meeting Glenn, I’ve found myself thinking more about my own childhood than I have in a long time. “I know the feeling,” I agree. Catching sight of a stall selling thick, handmade, woollen scarfs, I instantly go into ‘shopping mode’. “Oh, these would be perfect for Holly!” I cry, pulling Glenn’s arm as I head for the stall. “She needs a new scarf,” I murmur to myself, thinking of the well-worn scarf and hat she wears at the moment.

  “That’s a nice one,” Glenn says, pointing to a blue and black one.

  I have to admire his choice; it would have been perfect for Sofia or I but definitely not for Holly. I shake my head, regretfully. “They’re nice but Holly hates wearing black - unless it’s trousers,” I add as an afterthought. “Sofia learnt that one the hard way.”

  “Uh oh; what happened?” he asks, immediately letting go of the scarf as if it had burnt him.

  “Sofia bought her a lovely black top for her birthday a few years ago,” I explain. “It was all sparkly; perfect for a night out. But I could tell straight away that Holly didn’t like it. We caught her trying to return it the next day.”

  Glenn makes a face. “Bet that went down well.”

  “Like a lead balloon, I can assure you.” I smile at the memory. “Sofia didn’t speak to her for a month.”

  “A month?” Glenn exclaims.

  “Never cross an Italian woman,” I warn him with a smile.

  Nodding, Glenn says, “Duly noted. Okay, so no black,” he mutters. “What about pink?” he asks, holding up a pink and white scarf.

  “She loves pink,” I gush, admiring his choice.

  Whipping off his own scarf, he replaces it with the pink and white one as he strikes a pose.

  “Forget Holly; that colour’s perfect for you,” I gush.

  Glenn laughs, preening himself in the mirror hanging on the post next to him. “Well, I have been told I suit most colours.”

  “Just what every supermodel aspires to,” I joke.

  Unwrapping the scarf, he hands it to me. “Ooh, they have the matching hat, too!” he cries, making a grab for it.

  “Wow, someone’s a little too excited about this hat and scarf,” I comment.

  “What? I was getting it for you,” he points out, “before someone else makes a grab for it and you’re left with just the scarf; how silly would you feel, then?”

  “Well, thank you,” I say. “Clearly, you’re my knight in shining armour where shopping for hats and scarves are concerned.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” he grins, puffing out his chest proudly. Nodding towards the main thoroughfare, he says, “I’ll wait over there while you buy them; get out of the way of the crush.”

  I nod, watching him disappear into the crowd. I’ve never known a man who could make me laugh as much as Glenn can; in truth, I’ve never known a guy who I could talk to as openly as we do. It’s refreshing and I’m dreading the moment we’ll have to say goodbye.

  Don’t think about it, I chastise myself, it’s still a week and half away; plenty of time to just enjoy his company.

  �
��Can I help you?” the vendor calls, interrupting my thoughts.

  Smiling, I push all thoughts of Glenn out of my head as I pay for Holly’s presents.

  “Right, wait here,” Glenn instructs, guiding me by the shoulders to a sign directing people to Santa’s Grotto.

  “Why? Where are you going?” I demand, surprised he’s abandoning me.

  “To get us a drink,” he says.

  “Well, can’t I come with you?” Oh great, now I sound like some whiny girl who can’t bear to let a man out of her sight.

  “Not with that lot,” he mutters, nodding at my bags. “You’ll be bashing everyone with them; probably start World War Three in the process.”

  Recovering myself, I nod (I do have a lot of bags). “Okay, fine; you go. I’ll wait here.”

  He’s gone before I can even say what I want and I roll my eyes. Putting the bags on the floor, I smile; this has been great for Christmas shopping: I’ve sorted pretty much everyone… except Glenn. I want to buy him something, something that will let him know how much he means to me but I haven’t found anything good enough. Maybe Holly or Sofia could help…

  But, then, I spot it: the perfect present.

  Glancing around, I scour the crowd for any sign of Glenn and, seeing none, I grab my bags, heading over to the stall. Scanning the wares in front of me, it doesn’t take me long to find the exact one for Glenn. Picking it up, I hand it to the vendor who’s wearing an elf hat with pointy ears and a candy cane sticking out from the side; tinsel adorns her neck in place of a scarf. She clearly has the Christmas spirit.

  “I’ll take this, please,” I announce.

  The woman smiles brightly. “Lovely choice!” she beams before dropping out of sight to search for a box.

  As I wait, I scan the crowd again; the last thing I need, right now, is for Glenn to turn up and see what I’m buying.

  Suddenly, the woman pops up again, a live action, Christmas themed, Jack-In-The-Box, making me jump. “Found it!” she exclaims. “Now, would you like it gift wrapped?”

  At this point, my nerves are a jangled mess and I’m having visions of us acting out that infamous jewellery-buying scene in Love, Actually between the late, great Alan Rickman and Rowan Atkinson. Learning a lesson from Alan, I shake my head. “No, just the box will be fine,” I assure her.

  Her face falls for a moment, clearly disappointed she hasn’t got the opportunity to show off her wrapping skills and I find myself feeling sorry for her. “Are you quite sure?” she asks, hope tingeing her voice.

  “Yes, very sure,” I insist. “Look, the person I’m buying this for has, literally, just gone to buy us drinks; I need to have this done quickly,” I beg, hoping she understands the urgency now.

  The woman squeals. “Ooh, a Christmas surprise! How perfect! Well, say no more…” Opening the box, she slides the gift inside and quickly tapes it shut. “Ta-da!” she says with a flourish, holding it out to me.

  Geez, where did they find her? She’s like a battery powered elf; I’d be out of my mind within a day if I had to work with her. “Thanks,” I say, smiling and handing her the twenty pound note I had ready.

  “Happy Christmas!” the woman calls after me.

  “Thanks, you too!”

  “And I hope whoever it’s for likes it.”

  Smiling to myself, I say, “So do I.”

  Chapter 25

  “Okay, I officially hate this,” I announce, blind to what’s going on around me.

  No, I haven’t spontaneously lost my sight; rather this is Glenn’s idea of surprising me but it’s one I have to take issue with. How can blindfolding someone and driving them to an unknown location, add to their surprise? I mean: you’re literally taking away their most important sense, ensuring their total dependence on you. It’s weird, it’s unnecessary and I don’t like it.

  “I know,” Glenn acknowledges as he slows the car.

  My ears prick up at the sound of the indicator. “Are we turning left or right?” I ask, though I’m not sure why: I have no idea where we are, so knowing the direction in which we’re currently driving isn’t going to help.

  “Does it matter?” he asks and, as I feel the car swing to the left, I grip the door handle. “Seriously,” Glenn laughs, “just relax. We’re almost there.”

  “Relax?” I exclaim. “How can I relax when I’m blindfolded?” I demand.

  “I do appreciate that, for a control freak, putting yourself in someone else’s hands is difficult.”

  “I’m not a control freak,” I retort. “I just don’t like not being able to see.” Glenn chuckles and I can imagine him rolling his eyes at me; I smile at the thought. “You know, I read a book like this once. The guy promised his girlfriend a surprise, so he blindfolded her, put her in the car – she thought he was taking her to a nice B&B but he actually took a wood and shot her.”

  “Just what kind of books do you read?” Glenn exclaims, his shock evident.

  “Horrors, thrillers, crime…” I list.

  “What happened to a nice, happy ending?”

  I scoff. “Happy endings don’t exist; not in real life.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says everyone!” I shoot back. “I mean: you just have to watch the news to see that.”

  “That’s probably why I don’t watch the news,” he concedes.

  I turn my head in his direction. “Come on, Glenn, you’re a cop; you must see some terrible things.”

  “Well, yeah,” he admits, “but I also get to see some amazing things, too; a few months ago, Joe and I were called to a scene where this woman had started going into labour in Ambleside. The ambulance hadn’t arrived and we were on patrol-”

  “You helped a woman give birth?” I exclaim. I thought that sort of thing only happened in movies.

  “Well, no,” he admitted, “the ambulance arrived before anything had a chance to happen. But, fortunately, we were able to keep her calm and monitor her until the paramedics arrived.” I sense he’s smiling, now (I mean: why wouldn’t he be? He’s clearly pleased he was there to offer the woman support). “When we got off shift, we visited her in hospital and I’m pleased to say that Joseph Glenn Turner is a cheeky little guy that’s giving his parents the run around.”

  I smile totally captivated by his story. “They named him after you guys?” I ask, tears pricking my eyes, as I realise how proud I am to know someone like him. “That’s amazing.”

  “It is; so, you see, happiness is possible.”

  I fall silent, wondering if that’s true; I must admit, I’ve been so blinded by my own pain these last few years, it’s hard to see the good in anything any more.

  “Right, I reckon we’ll be there in two minutes,” Glenn announces, breaking into my thoughts.

  I sit up a little straighter, eager, now, to see where he’s brought me. I must admit, my mind’s whirring with possibilities and I can feel my impatience growing. “Can I take this off now?” I ask, reaching up to the sleeping mask.

  “No!” Glenn cries. “I told you, Jess: patience is a virtue.”

  “Patience is annoying,” I mutter, feeling the car, come to a stop.

  “Right, just a few more seconds,” Glenn says. “I’ll be right round to help you out.”

  “Are you kidding?” I scoff, as I unclip my belt. “I can’t even take it off to get out of the car?”

  “No,” Glenn forbids before opening his door and getting out.

  I hear the door slam and look towards my own door as it opens, a rush of cold air buffeting my face. Reaching out, I feel Glenn’s warm hands take mine gently and, as I swing my legs out, I realise how glad I am to have him there. Standing up, I feel him step closer to me and, as I bathe in his warmth, I catch the scent of his aftershave (citrus and sandalwood). For a moment, I’m a little lightheaded.

  “You okay?” he asks quietly and I can feel his warm breath on my cheek.

  I nod, my throat suddenly dry. “Yeah,” I manage. “I just want to know where we are.”
r />   “Always so impatient,” he comments drily and, as his hands drop to my waist, he steps behind me. “Ready?” he asks, his voice low in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine.

  I’m so confused, trying to work out if this closeness between us is intentional on his part; I mean, does he really need to be this close to take off my blindfold? Of course he doesn’t, I hear myself saying. Suddenly, butterflies explode in my stomach and all I can think about is his proximity…

  “And… ta da!” he cries, whipping off the sleep mask.

  For a moment, I’m disoriented and spend a few seconds trying to process what I’m seeing: we’re standing in a car park, outside Carlisle’s ice rink. I turn to face Glenn, careful not to step out of his arms; in fact, in that moment, it feels more natural to move closer, to wrap my arms around him… but I hold back, terrified of what might happen if I do.

  “Well?” he asks, faltering at my lack of reaction so far.

  I turn back to the building in front of us, my face breaking into a smile. “I can’t believe you’ve brought us here.”

  Glenn shrugs. “I figured while in Carlisle…” He grins down at me. “Is this okay?”

  “Okay?” I ask in disbelief. “This is more than ‘okay’ – this is brilliant!” I reach out and, without a second thought, grab his hand. “Come on; what are we waiting for?” And, pulling him across the car park, we head towards the ice rink.

  I finish lacing my boots and stand up, suddenly feeling like a newborn foal learning to walk. I take a few tentative steps (getting my sea-legs, if you will), my arms held out to the side like I’m walking a tight rope. Geez, how come it’s so hard to walk in skates, all of a sudden? I used to do this all the time as a kid.

  “I can barely walk in these,” Glenn laughs, tottering along behind me.