Page 52 of The Secret Holiday Kiss

He nodded, and now she saw the pensive twist of his mouth, the way he rubbed the back of his neck.

‘I’m going to go to dinner with Lars, but it’s a business dinner. I don’t have any romantic interest in him.’ She had been flattered by his flirting, but any thoughts of pursuing that had been squashed after her tour of the house with Avery.

He dropped his gaze.

‘What?’ She grabbed the strings of his hoody and gave a gentle tug. ‘What is it?’

‘He’s interested in you, though, isn’t he? And I—’

‘You think I can’t handle myself? That I can’t remind him he’s my client, that even if I was interested it would be inappropriate, but that I’m not interested?’

‘Be careful, OK? It’s not that I don’t trust you, or that I think you can’t handle yourself, but sometimes, when guys don’t get what they want, they decide to take it anyway.’ She was surprised by his hard tone, the cold look in his eyes. She tried to defuse it.

‘Are you saying, Avery Hudson, that you care about your secret holiday kiss?’ She slid her hand up his neck, tugged at the short hair at his nape, waiting for him to laugh and kiss her again.

Instead, he just looked at her, his gaze searching. This was the worry, the insecurity she’d been waiting for the moment he walked into the manor. ‘Of course I do,’ he said. ‘Of course I care about you.’ Then he gave her another firm, quick kiss and strode to the door, pulling it open and walking out into the hall, not even stopping to ask her where the dogs were or if he would be safe from them.

Daisy was left standing in the living room, the sun streaming in, her coffee and toast cold on the table. Her mind was a whirr of conflicting thoughts, and the one that rose to the surface, that reached all the way to the top, was that she felt as if she knew Avery even less than she had done before he’d come to show her the photographs.

Her secret holiday kiss, her sexily scruffy man, was a whole lot more complicated than she’d first thought, but she relished the challenge of finding out who he really was, what made him tick, and what on earth was going on with his neighbours in Norwich.

Chapter Seventeen

By the end of the week, Daisy felt completely stuck and she didn’t know what to do about it. She had confirmed all the contractors with Lars and sent over a timeline, which involved some of the work starting before Christmas, but most of it afterwards. Lars refused to talk about it over the phone, saying they could discuss it when she saw him in Norwich for dinner the following day. Saturday.

Daisy knew it was a business dinner, but it had been a long time since she’d gone out for a formal meal with a man, and now, after what had happened with Avery, she felt nervous about spending time with him in that setting.

She had decided to make more paper chains for the ball, but out of fabric rather than paper. They would hang down the walls, adding texture and vibrancy to the room. When she’d told Sophie her idea, her sister-in-law had taken her to a tiny craft shop off Perpendicular Street, and had introduced her to Vea. The large, cheerful woman had taken her into a hidden back room full of long rolls of material: cottons and silks, satin and velour, sparkly and soft, rough and gossamer thin.

Daisy had been entranced, and had asked Vea for several small samples, then told her she would return when she had decided which ones she wanted. It would be a ‘wow’ for the ball but not the one she craved. She still hadn’t come up with an idea for her centrepiece.

She also hadn’t seen Avery for a few days, since he had swept her off her feet with his kisses and his declaration, and confused her with his fierce defence of his neighbours. She had made progress on her plans for Winnie and Mary’s house, had a rough project plan to show them, but she couldn’t help thinking that her ideas for upstairs wouldn’t be right unless she had actually been in the space.

So now, early Friday afternoon, with low cloud hanging moodily over Mistingham, she put on her jeans and a biscuit-coloured jumper, laced up her sturdy walking boots and, saying goodbye to Harry and the dogs, walked into the village.

A rousing, choral rendition of ‘God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen’ spilled out of the open hotel doors, the Christmas wreath glittered under the porch light, and the scent of pine filled the air. Most of Mistingham’s buildings had twinkling lights up now, including the village hall, and from the top of Perpendicular Street, Daisy could pick out the dark, sparkle-free frontage of the empty bookshop.

The abandoned space gnawed at her, and she slid her hand into her bag, where she had put The Hound of the Baskervilles, even though she’d already finished it. She understood why Harry hadn’t done anything with the shop, why he hadn’t wanted to rent it to someone else – because it was a part of their family’s history. But maybe now was the time? Maybe, if Daisy was going to be in Mistingham more … she stopped, because the thought was unwanted. She wasn’t going to be here more. It was up to Harry and Sophie to decide what to do with the bookshop.

She strode up the lane next to the hotel, the cold crackling against her skin like popping candy, and was relieved when she saw that Avery’s van wasn’t there: that she was right, and he had made his usual trip to Norwich. A radio was playing from somewhere, but it was modern hits, not Jimmy Nail or Belinda Carlisle or Bon Jovi, and there were the usual sounds of a building site in action. Daisy sucked in a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strode up to the house.

It was time to do some fibbing.

Omari and Kyle stood like giant, glowering rock people in front of her, blocking the way to the house, day-glo in their hi-vis jackets.

‘Avery said you could go to the first floor?’ Kyle was giving her a sceptical look.

‘He did. He said it was fine.’

‘He didn’t say that to us,’ Omari told her. ‘I’m foreman when he’s out, and he didn’t let me know you were coming.’

‘Didn’t say anything to any of us,’ Kyle added.

‘And it’s not safe,’ Omari said. ‘Not the way it is. We’re still reinforcing the floor.’

‘I need five minutes,’ Daisy said cheerily. ‘Five minutes, I’ll wear a hat, then I’ll be gone. Avery really did say it was fine.’

‘Five minutes in an unsafe area is five minutes too many,’ Kyle growled.