His Mistletoe Proposal

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‘I was lucky. I got to spend a lot of time with her at the end of her life,’ he said quietly, realising now just how grateful he was to have had that opportunity.

‘You see, that’s the thing,’ Flora said, then swallowed hard, as if forcing back her tears. ‘I didn’t get to say a proper goodbye and it’s eating away at me. If only I’d booked my flight a day earlier. Twenty-four hours. That’s all it would have taken to have been there to hug my best friend one last time.’

Her pain reached right inside him, twisting his guts. He drew her towards him, wrapping his arms around her and holding her tightly to him, at last feeling a real connection to her—that they were in this together.

She hugged him back with a fierceness that nearly broke his heart, as if she was hoping that touching someone associated with Amy might bring back the peace she’d felt when his sister was around.

And then, as she drew back to look at him, the atmosphere switched in a second. Her pupils were blown in the dim light, making her eyes look huge. There was a strange expression in them now. Of longing. At least he was pretty sure that was what it was.

She raised her hand to his face and slid her fingertips along his jaw, frowning as they juddered across the bristles.

‘You’re a good person, Alex. Amy was so lucky to have you as a brother. I wish I had someone like you looking out for me.’

Before he realised what she was about to do, Flora lurched forwards and pressed her mouth against his, her lips warm and soft. The sweet scent of her invaded his senses as he stood there, stunned and rooted to the spot. His blood pounded hard through his veins as he fought off the strongest impulse just to let himself sink into the kiss.

But he knew he couldn’t do that.

Carefully, reluctantly, he drew back from her, feeling her hands instinctively tighten around his back for a second before she realised he was deliberately pulling away.

‘That’s a really bad idea, Flora. One I think you’ll regret in the morning when you’re stone-cold sober.’

She shook her head, looking a little bewildered. ‘I won’t—’

But he wasn’t prepared to argue this with her when she was drunk and hurting. ‘Come on, it’s time for you to go to bed.’

Her shoulders slumped as if all her energy had drained away now and she meekly allowed him to lead her out of the living room and into what he correctly surmised was her bedroom.

‘Just sleep it off, okay? Things will seem a bit better in the morning. We just need to take each day as it comes.’

She nodded, then yawned loudly. ‘I’m so tired,’ she murmured.

‘I can tell,’ he said, pulling back the duvet so she could crawl into bed, still wearing her clothes. He figured it was probably better to leave her like that than attempt to undress her—that could only lead to more misunderstandings. Once she was settled, he pulled the duvet over her and went to fetch her glass of water from the living room. By the time he returned with it she seemed to be asleep already, her breathing soft and regular in the quiet of the room.

He watched her for a moment, just to make sure she really was asleep, feeling a sudden swell of compassion for her. Shaking off the weird twitch of nerves this produced, he crept out of the room, letting out a big yawn of his own. His insomnia seemed to have well and truly caught up with him today. Moving over to the sofa, he lay down, pulling a blanket he found neatly folded on the arm over his body.

He’d stay here for an hour or so, just to make sure she wasn’t ill. He knew how evil that local cider was—he’d been caught out by it himself before.

Shifting onto his side, he felt the waistband of his jeans dig in to him, so undid them and shucked them off. Yes, that was much more comfortable. Though he was pretty hot now. She seemed to have her heating turned up to full. He tugged his T-shirt off too, feeling relief at the sensation of cooler air on his hot skin. His whole body felt overstimulated after the kiss she’d planted on his mouth.

Pushing the memory far out of his head, he let out a deep sigh to expel the tension. After the soul-crushing end to his relationship with Tia, the very last thing he needed right now was to get caught up in something new. He had a strong suspicion, from what he’d seen of Flora so far, that someone as intense and focused as her would be the kind of woman who would want to go all in on a relationship too. He needed to look after himself right now, so there was no space for anyone else in his life.

Fluffing up the cushion, he flopped back down and let out a groan of tiredness. There, that was better. He’d just close his eyes for a minute, then get out of there once he was sure she’d be okay on her own.

CHAPTER THREE (#uc312186e-cc56-539f-b943-30e0948cc808)

BRIGHT WINTRY SUNLIGHT playing against his eyelids woke Alex up from a deep sleep. Peeling his lids open he looked around him, wondering where the heck he’d woken up. He didn’t recognise the cornice on the ceiling or the glass chandelier hanging from it. Turning his head, he looked around the room to find he was lying on a large red velvet sofa, surrounded by expensive-looking antique furniture. There was a large Christmas tree in the bay window adorned with tasteful decorations and sprigs of holly jauntily arranged in an elegant vase on the mantelpiece. Well, this definitely wasn’t his place.

Then it all came rushing back to him. He was still at Flora’s flat.

Sitting up, he rubbed his hand over his skull, attempting to get the blood flowing to his brain. He’d not meant to stay all night, but her sofa had been so comfortable he hadn’t woken up after the two-hour stretch he usually managed these days.

His mouth felt as if someone had rubbed it with sandpaper. Too much beer again last night. Swinging his legs off the sofa, he stood up and stretched, feeling the air on his sleep-warmed skin. He’d grab a quick drink of water, then get dressed and out of there. She didn’t need to know he’d stayed the whole night.

As he moved towards the doorway his gaze caught on a framed photo on the sideboard. Stopping to pick it up, he examined the picture of Flora and his sister, arms flung around each other, smiling at the camera. They both had deep, healthy-looking tans and sunglasses pushed jauntily back on their heads. They looked so carefree it made something tighten uncomfortably inside him. The photo must have been taken during one of the summer holidays to Greece or Italy or France that they’d taken together each year. Something Amy had loved doing.

The sight of his sister looking so happy brought a lump to his throat. He thought about what Flora had said last night about how unfair it was that Amy’s life had been cut so cruelly short. She’d died before she’d had time to do all the things she’d wanted to do. Particularly have a family of her own.

He’d never really been that interested in having kids himself, but Amy had wanted them desperately ever since they were little. It had probably been something to do with not feeling as if their own family was as complete and functional as it should have been, what with their father running off to Thailand when they were six and never getting into contact with them again. Their mum had been a trooper, giving them every material thing they’d ever needed, but he knew how hard it had been for her on her own. She hadn’t always had the patience or the time to give him and Amy the hugs and love they’d craved. Or perhaps it had been down to her having a broken heart, which had failed her when she was only forty-seven, leaving them parentless aged nineteen.

At least he and Amy had had each other to lean on.

Not wanting to dwell any longer on that thought, he put the photo back with a trembling hand. There was a gasp of surprise behind him and he twisted round to see Flora standing there, blearily rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

‘Alex!’ she said, her eyes widening as she ran her gaze up and down his nearly naked body. At least I left my boxer shorts on, he thought wryly, taking in the thunderstruck expression on her face.

She slumped against the door frame, as if needing it to hold her up. Hangover, he thought, though he didn’t say it. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him pointing out the obvious right then. She’d changed out of yesterday’s clothes and was now wearing a blindingly white fluffy bathrobe. He guessed she hadn’t looked in the mirror yet though because she had panda eyes from her smudged make-up and her hair was a mess. She looked like a completely different person from the polished perfectionist of yesterday. He actually found her much more attractive like that, rumpled and sexy, not that he was going to admit it out loud.

‘What are you doing here?’ Her eyes widened even more as a thought seemed to strike her. ‘Oh, God, we didn’t—?’

Her hands flew to her face. ‘Oh, no, we didn’t, did we?’

He shook his head, riled by her over-the-top alarm. ‘No. We didn’t. You tried to kiss me, and I stopped you. You passed out on your bed—alone—and I slept on your sofa.’

‘I tried to kiss you?’ She looked even more horrified by this. ‘Oh, God, I must have been really drunk.’

‘Gee, thanks.’

She flushed and held up an apologetic hand. ‘I just mean I wouldn’t normally do something like that. You’re a lovely guy, but I think we can safely say we’d never naturally date. We’d make a very odd couple.’

‘Very odd,’ he said, though he felt a strange reluctance about agreeing with her. They weren’t that dissimilar, not really. His sister never would have been friends with Flora if she hadn’t seen the good in her.

Not that he was interested in her in a romantic way, of course. The way he’d instinctively responded to her when she’d kissed him had been a shock, sure, but she was right—they would never work as a couple. He’d only reacted like that because he’d been missing human contact recently.

‘Hey, speaking of dating,’ Flora went on, pulling her robe more tightly around her body, ‘I meant to say last night—before I messed up by being really rude to you about your clothes and—’ she paused as a sheepish look flashed across her face ‘—the other things.’ She produced a strange sort of grimacing grin, clearly hoping that would suffice as an apology.

‘I have a friend who lives just outside Bath. I think you’d really get on with her,’ she went on quickly before he could get a word in. ‘She’s big into music—she plays the harp, I think.’ She flapped her hand as if annoyed with her less than perfect memory. ‘Anyway, I met up with her for a coffee the other day—we hadn’t seen each other since school—and she’s single at the moment. I mentioned you to her and she seemed really interested in meeting you.’

His heart sank. ‘You’re trying to set me up on a blind date?’

‘Sure, why not? Isn’t that how most people meet their partners these days? Internet dating or through a friend of a friend?’

‘I don’t think so, Flora.’

Folding her arms, she fixed him with a concerned stare. ‘Well, I think you should put yourself out there again. Didn’t you say yesterday that you’d promised Amy you’d get on with your life and not mope about?’