‘You’re forgiven. Truce.’ I offered him my hand instinctively, forgetting the internal upheaval shaking hands with him had caused last time.
But it was too late because he reached out and took it. This time I noticed how long his fingers were, how they wrapped around mine so easily and gently, the pocket of warmth trapped in between our palms and how it penetrated my skin and travelled up my arm.
Before he let go, he brought his other hand up too, squeezing mine with both of his for a moment before he let go. My eyes nearly rolled back in my head.
‘Your hands are freezing; don’t you have any gloves?’
‘I do,’ I said eagerly, juggling the spurned reindeer antlers as I dug the gloves from my coat pocket and slid them on.Sure, Beth, cover up the evidence – that will make the horniness disappear.‘I was eating one of those hog-roast rolls, didn’t want to get woolly fluff in it.’
‘I see. Definitely worth the sacrifice of a limb.’ He pushed his glasses up his nose with his knuckle and pointed down at the reindeer antlers. ‘That explains the gloves, but why aren’t you wearing your headgear?’
‘Impulse buy.’ I smiled wryly. ‘I don’t think I’m brave enough to wear them.’
He raised one eyebrow and gave me an assessing look. ‘Not sure I believe that.’
‘That I just bought them—’
‘No. That you’re too self-conscious to wear them.’
‘Oh.’ I wasn’t sure how to take that. It felt like a compliment – it was a good thing not to be self-conscious wasn’t it? Well…I thought it was anyway, so I jammed them on my head, pressing the button on the side to turn them on and see what he really thought. ‘What d’you think?’ He pressed his lips together and studied them, the red lights reflecting in his glasses. ‘You want to make an excuse and leave now, don’t you?’
‘No.’
I raised a dubious eyebrow, and his mouth curled up a little further than the last time.
‘No. Of course not,’ he insisted.
I’m not sure if it was the whisky or just fatigue kicking in but my determination to get him to smile doubled down. As my gaze travelled over his face, I noticed a sprig of green leaves and white berries fastened to the archway above his head. Mistletoe: my heart sped up. I wouldn’t have imagined a greengrocer’s doorway to be the most romantic of places but I had to admit, the thought of pointing it out to Nick and landing a kiss on him, was very, very tempting.
Still, we had only just called a truce. That would have been fast work, even for me. I’d let myself be caught up in a whirlwind with Peter, full of that same rush of lust that kept assailing me whenever I was near Nick. I needed to learn to check my impulsiveness.
And then the band struck up, giving me a perfect distraction tactic: a medley of strings striking a drawn-out introduction chord before drums and a gravelly voice joined it, and the music came together and descended, gathering speed, as they plunged into the first song of their set.
‘I’m going to watch the band. D’you want to join me?’
He followed me as I wheedled my way to the front and centre of the crowd near the stage, finding a spot to stand in right next to me.
I spotted Callum to the left and behind the lead singer, but he didn’t notice me. He was frowning down at his guitar with a look of concentration I recognised well; shaggy hair hanging over his face while his fingers flew and one of his feet stomped to the rhythm.
I clasped my hands together and bit my lip. That little bubble of joy was making its presence felt in my chest and if I wasn’t careful, I was going to be in danger of crying again, but for a much better reason than Henry’s bad opinion. Callum was good. He was really good, and the band were fantastic too. We were close enough that the drumbeats were skull-rattling and with the jingling of the bells and fiddling of fiddles it was like being brainwashed by Christmas…in a good way.
I had to move. It was too much. My feet started tapping and then I started clapping. I only realised my response was getting a bit exuberant when I elbowed Nick in the chest.
‘Sorry.’ I turned to look at him and he was already watching me.
He shook his head, easily dismissing it and then he smiled and oh, it wassoworth the wait. It crept up slowly and then drew wide, wide, wider still, white teeth and blue eyes warm and crinkling at the edges.
‘You can’t keep still,’ he said. ‘You’re like a toddler who needs a wee.’
My laugh was another big release of built-up tension. ‘I just like dancing.’
His smile stayed there, blinding me and making it impossible for me to turn my head away, and then he broke his gaze from mine, looking down at the ground, darting a glance at the people nearby. I stopped clapping along to the music, trying to figure out what I’d said now. ‘Nick, are you all right?’
His shoulders lifted as he took a deep breath, falling into place further back, his spine straighter – it was like he grew another inch in the seconds before he looked up at me again. He leaned his head down nearer to mine and his warm breath gusted against my cheek, sending a tingle down my neck.
‘Would you like to dance then? Properly.’
My mouth fell open. ‘What? You mean me and you?’
