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‘Like I said, I don’t do Christmas.’

‘You could step out of your comfort zone for once?’ Hope teased with a tentative smile. ‘Couldn’t you?’

She’d been so wrapped up in what had been going on between Javier and herself that she’d forgotten how joyous this time of year could be. Having seen the town, she was imbued with a spirit of goodwill. At that moment, her mother would probably be writing Christmas cards. All of them would have little personal messages, even if they were written for people she would probably never see again. Friends from the past who had come and gone, who had supported her in all her journeys and through all her ups and downs, but who had moved over time to far flung places.

‘Wait… Are you fine preaching to me about living a safe life when you don’t want to just try and enjoy the atmosphere here before we eat?’

She tugged him forwards, she linked her arm through his and shamelessly dragged him into the crowds of people.

Javier allowed himself to be pulled along.

The last thing he wanted was to immerse himself in the commercial paraphernalia of Christmas. He loathed all this phoney goodwill that lasted approximately until the New Year dawned, whereupon everyone resumed their usual routine of ignoring one another.

He hated the memories of misery always waiting in the shadows, easily brought to life at this time of year.

All this made him wonder why he wasn’t gently, but firmly, disengaging himself from her and politely informing her that she had an hour and a half to do whatever she wanted but he wasn’t going to be part of the equation.

He looked down at her and smiled because her childish enthusiasm was infectious. He was dizzyingly conscious of a certain lightness inside him that felt strange. A little scary…but confusingly good.

She pulled him towards some of the open-air stalls that were selling local ceramics. She quizzed him about the food they could smell all around them and he bought her some crispy sweet fritters and a chocolate drink. It was refreshing to see that she didn’t leave a morsel of it.

Tinned music began to play from speakers strung on the lamp posts and Javier groaned.

‘You’re such a Grinch.’ But she laughed and looked up at him. When she made to detach her arm, he held it firmly in place and her heart skipped a beat.

Heat rushed through her.

‘And you’re so cheerful,’ he murmured, leaning into her.

‘In an insufferable way?’

‘In a way that makes me feel a hundred years old. I like it. A lot. Do you want to sit somewhere? Watch the world go by for a few minutes? I’m pretty sure I can scramble some wine for us from one of these places.’

Hope nodded.

For a few seconds, they remained staring at one another while people bustled around them, then she blinked. He drew back, although he continued to anchor her to him as he led her to one of the many benches in the square and told her to stay put.

He was back before she could gather her thoughts.

‘This might have been what you were smelling.’

‘What is it?’

‘Mexican Christmas Punch with a kick of alcohol. Very spiced, I was told, with raisins, cinnamon and apples. From there.’

He nodded to a wooden hut wildly decorated with red ribbons, baubles and masses of scarlet poinsettias.

‘I’m sorry if I forced you into this,’ Hope said, as the kick of rum went straight to her head. ‘I was just caught up in the moment.’

‘I’m not here under duress,’ Javier returned, shifting so that his arm was against hers, his long legs extended.

Both of them drinking the sweet, strong punch and staring at a picture-perfect Christmas scene.

Memories slammed into him. Memories of a time when Christmas was once something like this—filled with excitement. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply. When he opened them and turned to Hope, it was to find her looking at him but without any curiosity or concern.

She was simply there.

Ready to listen if he wanted to talk.