A Novel Christmas

by Lynsey M. Stewart

  Cal

  I wrote for the next three days. It was like fresh air had been pushed into my lungs. A feeling of exhilaration as the words kept coming, every piece of the plotline jigsaw coming together. Amazing. My heroine was still called Kari, but her story wasn’t about a sexy woodcutter. A recluse who was afraid of love after the burn of humiliation forced him to declare he would never fall again. Her story was a much happier tale. An ex-pilot, jilted by his fiancé but open to trying the first steps of an epic romance with a much-sought happily ever after.

  I planned to stop in the next hour. I’d reached the final few chapters and still wasn’t sure how the story was going end. I’d sent the first few chapters of my original manuscript to Gerry before Christmas and had yet to receive any feedback. I hadn’t told him that I’d abandoned the original story, and therefore, I’d decided to give him a few more days to let him enjoy his Christmas break before I contacted him about the new novel.

  As I shut the laptop down and leant over the desk to close the curtains, I noticed the light from the barns. I grabbed my coat, hat and scarf, and made my way to Drew.

  He was sprawled out across the floor in Karensa’s reception. Piles of papers surrounded him and various highlighters had been discarded except for the one hanging out his mouth. A shredder was behind him and every so often he would pick something out, read over it and put it in the machine to obliterate it. Three empty bottles of beer were sitting on the coffee table next to his laptop, which was open but in darkness.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked as he took the highlighter from his mouth.

  ‘Getting started.’ He sent another piece of paper through the shredder. ‘Some post arrived for you this morning. I was going to drop it off later but got side-tracked.’ I looked at the envelope on the floor, noticing my publisher’s logo. ‘Sit down,’ he said pointing to the laptop. ‘Take a look at what I’ve been doing.’

  The laptop illuminated as I wiggled my finger across the touchpad, and I soon discovered that Drew had been working on Karensa’s website. Underneath the about us tab was a vacancy page where he’d linked to an advert for a new wedding planner.

  ‘This is amazing.’

  ‘Isn’t it? Fuck, Cal. I feel ready. We’re coming up to a new year and there’s something about having a fresh start. Starting again. What better time to do it,’ he said.

  ‘I think it’s a great idea. You still have time to get bookings for the wedding season,’ I said, excited by his enthusiasm, thrilled for his fresh injection of optimism.

  ‘I only put the ad on a few hours ago and already I’ve had a few emails from people expressing an interest.’

  ‘That’s fantastic! What are the next steps?’

  ‘I’ve asked for CVs and I’m going to set up a few phone interviews to get a better feel for them before I invite them to visit. It could be a long process, but I want to get it right. They’ll be making a huge commitment to the place. Living and working here,’ he said, striking a neon yellow line through another piece of paper. This was definitely going to be a long process. Anyone applying would need to be entirely on board with leaving a life behind to live here at Karensa.

  ‘Can I help you? I’m pretty good at reading people. I could be your…third eye.’

  Drew smiled. ‘I’d love that.’

  ‘Can I do something now? Shred? Highlight? Put something into piles?’

  ‘Unfortunately, this is all me. Old papers that need filing or getting rid of. I need to sort the office out. I’ve been doing everything at the cottage, but that won’t work once things get up and running again.’ He looked down at the floor and cleared his throat. ‘I’m considering moving back to the flat.’

  ‘Really?’ I said, trying not to sound shocked.

  ‘The cottage could be the accommodation for the new wedding planner. That would leave two cottages I could still offer as self-catering holidays.’

  ‘Yeah. That’s a good plan,’ I replied, still unsure how I felt about him moving back into the space he shared with Meghan. He nodded like he was trying to convince himself.

  ‘It makes sense.’

  ‘Absolutely.’

  ‘Great.’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘How do you…feel…about that?’ he asked.

  ‘Fine,’ I replied. ‘I just didn’t think you’d ever want to go back there.’

  ‘I’m thinking about what’s best for the business,’ he replied, fiddling with a pen.

  The phone rang, making us both jump. In all the times I’d been up here I’d never once heard it ring. The barn was always deadly silent. Drew had taken it from reception and placed it beside him for easy access. He blew out a breath, chuckling as he picked it up.

  ‘Drew speaking. Hello. Yes. Thanks for calling. Absolutely, I’d love to hear more about you. Wow. Great. And you’ve looked at the website? Fantastic.’ Drew picked up his mobile, shaking it and smiling as it started to vibrate. I reached over, took it from him and spent the next hour talking to a lovely lady about the island. She had her own wedding planning business and was based in Benidorm. I laughed when she said she wanted a change, the weather being a huge one. I wondered if she was ready to swap bikinis for bed socks.

  After Drew finished his call, he appeared to be overwhelmed with the interest. His phone continued to ring and the website had generated almost thirty emails. He was animated when talking about the guy he’d spent the most time on the phone with. He was a wedding planner for a famous hotel in London, but admitted that now he was getting older he was looking for a change, something less fast-paced and demanding. His partner, who was an architect, was also looking for a quieter life, admitting that the ability to work from home, surrounded by the Cornish landscape, was a big pull for him too.

  ‘I’m going to FaceTime him in a couple of days once he’s had time to look over everything, and then I think I’ll invite him to see the island,’ Drew said, elated that this was coming together so quickly. ‘He asked me about the self-catering side of the business and told me about the trend for glamping. They love it, apparently. They’ve recently stayed in a yurt. It’s like a luxury tent. It’s fairly inexpensive to set up and would be another source of income. He had some great ideas, Cal.’

  ‘I love that idea,’ I replied. ‘Yurts sound fabulous.’

  ‘I can’t see you as the camping type,’ he replied, lifting his eyebrow. ‘I’m not sure Louis Vuitton does tents.’

  ‘Ahem. Luxury camping.’ He pulled me down to him and kissed me firmly—the kind of kiss that soon turns into something more. ‘I could totally get on board with that.’

  ‘Can I stay with you tonight?’ He asked, trailing kisses down my neck and boom. All sense had gone and my brain was now firmly locked to my lady bits.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I want to fuck you,’ he whispered. ‘Make you feel good.’

  ‘You already do.’

  ‘Better,’ he replied, his hand sliding under my sweater and gliding over the bump of my breast. ‘Make you feel better.’

  We didn’t make it back to the cottage. Drew made love to me on the floor surrounded by papers and highlighter pens as the phone rang off the hook.

  Chapter 27

  Cal

  Was it possible to feel more connected to a person every time you made love? I’d felt love before, was close to getting engaged at one point. I’d certainly experienced lust. But this? This was on a different level. It felt like Drew was becoming part of me.

  He’d left the piles of papers on the floor where I’d found him, turned off the lights and walked me back to the cottage. He talked about the future of Karensa, something he’d never let himself do before. His excitement was palpable, and I’d never been so turned on. There was a passion that had eluded him before, not a sexual passion, he had plenty of that, but a passion for the business, the island. For life. It was like I was getting a small glimpse into what Drew must have been like before Meghan’s humiliation when he was setting up the business
in the memory of his mother, when everything was shiny and bright.

  ‘You hungry?’ I asked as I turned on the Christmas tree lights and put the envelope from my publisher down on the table next to my laptop.

  ‘Always,’ he said as he swatted me on the bum.

  ‘For food.’ I rolled my eyes and giggled.

  ‘I want to taste you.’ It was a demand. A plea. How could I deny him? I pushed him by his shoulders onto the cosy chair, my reading place. I found myself standing in between his legs as I hooked my thumbs into my yoga pants and inched them down to reveal the black lace of my underwear. ‘How do you do that?’ he asked.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Wrap your body in plain, comfy writing clothes, but hide fucking sin underneath?’

  I pulled the coffee table closer, sitting down and spreading my legs, inching across the small triangle of lace hiding my pussy from him. He gasped. He swallowed and threw his head back, but quickly came back to me, fucking me with his eyes before licking his lips, watching me exposed and ready for him.

  ‘Such a sweet pussy.’ I pulled my sweater over my head and pinched my nipple through the cup of my lacy bra. ‘Are you still wet from me, my come?’ I nodded. ‘Wider. Let me see.’ I put my feet up on the table and spread my legs just for him. Only for him. ‘Fucking perfect,’ he said, unbuttoning his jeans and pulling them and his boxers down in one swoop. His cock was ready. Hard and glorious and as he took himself in his hand he started stroking. I was transfixed by the movement, the small amount of pressure he used, the noises he made. He was restraining himself, itching to come closer to me, but holding himself back. ‘Touch yourself. Like you did at the window.’

  ‘No,’ I teased.

  ‘No? Don’t tell me you didn’t like it, Cal. You liked being watched.’ His eyes closed in pleasure. ‘Get yourself off. Show me how turned on you are watching me hand fuck myself.’

  ‘Drew…’ I was so wet. Insanely wet. Dirty talk had always been something that turned me on but wasn’t always something I’d heard. I loved that Drew had read my books and somehow knew what would turn me on the most.

  ‘Look how ready you are. Do you want my cock?’

  I started circling my clit and the Drew that wanted to remain in control, to tease me, to drive me to the edge disappeared. Another Drew resurfaced, the one who couldn’t resist me, the one who couldn’t keep away. He knelt down in front of me, lifted one of my legs on his shoulder and grinned as his eyes connected with my pussy. ‘Such a tease.’ I leant back on my elbows, slid my finger down one last time and raised my hand to his mouth. A deep inhale set my arousal alight and as he slipped my finger between his lips, still coated with my arousal, I couldn’t wait any longer. ‘Impatient,’ he said as I pulled him towards me. ‘We like the tease, remember? Remember the night. When I watched you undress, watched you finger fuck, wishing it was me?’

  ‘Drew,’ I said shuddering. My need taking over my body.

  ‘Watch me, baby.’ Drew kissed my inner thigh, gripped his hands on either side of my pussy and licked. I watched his jaw go slack, his tongue lap and suck, his eyes locked on mine. I threw my head back, moaning at the rush. ‘Watch me,’ he rasped. ‘Don’t stop watching me. I fucking adore the way you react.’

  I threw my arms back and Drew held me in place, one hand pressed against my stomach, the other circling and pressing, a delicious blend allowing the chase to come quickly. He was holding me steady as he devoured me and as his hand left my clit I watched him pleasure himself, stroking to the beat of my heart—faster, increasing the pace, lost in me, bathed in the dim light, the star on the top of the tree casting shadows on the wall behind us.

  ‘Come against my mouth,’ he said, breathless and beautiful.

  ‘No. Come in me.’ The words were echoing, didn’t sound like my voice. I needed him and he knew, thrusting himself into me, no further questions asked, no words necessary.

  ‘I live for how your breath pauses just before I enter you.’

  ‘I’m already close,’ I gasped. ‘You’ve got me so close.’ He nodded, telling me he was in exactly the same place and we came together, riding it out until we were sticky and spent. Drew’s pace hard and relentless. Our bodies were falling, our worlds shifting closer again.

  He lifted his head, shaking arms cradling me as we lay back on the table. ‘Did I hurt you?’

  ‘No. Not at all.’

  ‘I love that I get to be like this with you. Real and raw,’ he said, circling his fingers across the quote on my thigh. ‘You make me crazy. Make me fearless.’ I kissed him, loving how close I felt to him. ‘Do you know how big this is for me? To finally feel I can trust someone again.’

  ‘I know,’ I whispered.

  I did.

  I knew.

  And I cherished it.

  After my fourth orgasm, we shared a bath, talked and laughed. I think both of us had felt another shift in our relationship. Drew talked about feeling fearless and I understood that. I loved the word. Fearless. A feeling taken for granted, importance not always pinned to it until you don’t feel it anymore. My writing had taken on the same theme. I started writing what whirled around my heart without worrying how the words sounded, the flow of the sentence or if the grammar was correct. I just sat down and typed, the story feeling like an outflow of how my connection to Drew was changing.

  I was finding it hard to imagine my life without him.

  I decided to get a few more words locked down after Drew went to make us one of his famous wood-fired pizzas. I’d chosen to spend the night watching Love Actually, snuggled on the sofa under a blanket. Drew said watching a movie shouldn’t be allowed without a pizza. Hugh Grant’s dance moves could wait.

  I made the mistake of checking my emails before opening my manuscript. Fatal. That could often set you back a good hour. I took a sip of hot chocolate, scolding myself for the rookie mistake, and read an email from Gerry. The subject line said, ‘Mountain man has hard wood!’ I rolled my eyes and put the cup down, peering closer to read his comments on the original story that I’d decided to stop writing.

  The email consisted of a collection of high praise and lots of fucking awesomes. He loved the concept of a sexy mountain recluse and the journalist intrigued by his chopper. I started to get a feeling of dread, the kind that makes your stomach drop, as it was becoming clear that Gerry had utterly missed the high romance aspect of the story and tagged it as an alpha male sex fest with a series of sex scenes strewn together with little plot. Can we expand on this scene, add more details about chiselled abs? Sexy woodcutter is hot right now. The cover is perfect. My eyes immediately landed on the envelope Drew had given me earlier. I’d put it on the table at the side of the laptop, but had been otherwise engaged for most of the night. I stared at it. Touched it with the tip of my fingers. Picked it up. Pressed it against my mouth.

  Opened it.

  Inside was a series of colour images. Two teasers with a release date and cheesy taglines that made me feel queasy. Get good wood! Coming February. He’ll let you hold his chopper! Coming soon! Behind the teasers were more papers—a mockup cover of a male model posing shirtless with abs all the way and more, swinging an axe, one leg up on a tree stump, a sexy pout. Fabio eat your heart out. I laughed at first, fully believing that this was a joke, that Gerry had made them as a late Christmas present in the hope that it would cheer me up after the writer’s block fiasco. But part of the print cover mockup included a blurb, not written by me.

  He’s a recluse. An ex-pilot with a secret. Shamed and humiliated by love. Jilted by his fiancé.

  He won’t go there again. He can’t. That’s why he lives alone in the mountains, his big chopper always at the ready just in case.

  She’s a stunner. A blonde journalist sent to push his buttons. Test his boundaries. She wants to know about his wood. He wants to teach her. On her knees and ready to be seduced.

  Will the mountain man wood master succumb to more than just her ample charms? Or will he let himse
lf fall in love again?

  Humiliation burns, but will Kari’s love burn him harder?

  I picked up my mobile and rang Gerry, exasperated and still in shock.

  ‘Cal! How’s it going? Did you get the mockups?’

  ‘How could you get this so wrong?’ I said, not waiting for chit-chat.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘This isn’t the theme of the book,’ I replied. ‘I sent you three chapters and you send me this. Is it a joke? I’m struggling to find it funny, Gerry. I really am.’

  ‘Romantic comedy is huge, Cal. Readers love alpha males. Abs on covers. Sexy woodcutter with a back story. You’re onto something here.’

  ‘No. This isn’t a rom-com, it’s a contemporary romance. A love story. Hugely romantic. This doesn’t come close to my vision for the book,’ I said, pulling my hair back, exasperated that my publisher could get this so wrong.

  ‘Send me more,’ he replied. ‘I’ve been waiting for the completed manuscript to land in my inbox for days. So far…I got nothing.’

  ‘I’ve started a new book,’ I said, drawing my knees up to my chest and biting my nail. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be. I heard him clear his throat.

  ‘A new book.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Cal. What are you saying to me?’

  ‘I wasn’t happy with the way things were going with the original and I decided to start again.’

  Silence. Another throat clearing. ‘Is that why you’ve asked for more time?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ he asked.

  ‘Nothing. Everything’s great. I’ve just had a stronger idea. High romance, some angst. It’s a beautiful love story.’ I looked at the cover again. Dropping it to the table. ‘This doesn’t fit the theme. It doesn’t represent the words, the journey.’

  ‘Cal, let’s take things a step at a time.’

  ‘Fine,’ I replied, annoyed that he wanted to discuss this further.