Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2) (12 page)

‘You’re such a pervert.’

‘You’re such an exhibitionist. “Oh George, can you help me get dressed, oh is that my robe that’s just fallen to the floor.”’

‘That’s not how it was at all.’

He laughed. ‘It so was.’

She grinned, shaking her head.

He parked his car next to Libby’s round the back of the flats and they walked back round to the front together.

‘I’ll get changed and then I’ll make us some lunch. I bet you’re starving?’ he said.

She nodded. ‘I am. I do really need a shower too, since I didn’t get one this morning.’

‘OK, I need to pop down to see Seb at the pub for a second, he wants me to do a radio advert for their new menu so I’ll just have a chat with him about what he wants. But just come round whenever you’re ready?’

She nodded.

She had a quick shower and got dressed just as George was leaving for the pub. She watched him go and smiled. He really was the loveliest man she had ever met. But as he disappeared up the road, the smile on her face changed and she knew exactly what she was going to do for him.

W
hen George got back
to his flat, he froze. The curtains had been drawn and lit candles were everywhere. The room was in darkness apart from the flickering glow from the hundred or so tea lights that had been placed over every surface of the room.

As he moved into the lounge, something crunched under his feet. He looked down and saw dried rose petals in a path leading through to the bedroom. His bedroom door was open a crack and more candlelight flickered from the room within.

His mouth went dry. ‘Lib?’ he called. Maybe she really had dislodged a few brain cells.

There was no answer.

F
luttering
on the floor just outside his bedroom was a note. He picked it up and his eyes nearly fell out of his head when he read it.

I
can’t deny
the attraction between us, I want you Big Boy, so come in here and ravish me,

Giselle x

S
urely not
. He had seen this sort of thing in the movies – candles, flower petals, the girl waiting in her sexy lingerie to seduce the gorgeous man – but never in his wildest dreams had he ever expected it to happen to him. And with Giselle of all people. Especially when he had made such a startling impression on her.

A part of him was disappointed that it wasn’t Libby waiting for him in his bed but he had to remind himself that she was leaving. And even if by some remote chance she stayed, she wouldn’t be staying because of him. If she had any feelings for him at all, she wouldn’t be encouraging him to go out with Giselle. He liked Giselle too, she was sweet and beautiful. She was perfect for helping him to get over Libby once and for all.

George pushed open the door, wondering what he was going to see. The room was in complete darkness apart from one tiny tea light on the side. But it was enough to see the silhouette of a woman waiting for him in his bed. The blonde hair glistened in the candlelight.

He swallowed. ‘Giselle?’

There was no answer. He wasn’t prepared for this. A part of him, a huge part of him wanted to run away. What if he wasn’t any good? What if… In fact there were a million ‘what ifs’ running through his head right now that told him this wasn’t a good idea.

Well, he thought, she’s made the first move; she’s made all this effort. I can certainly make the next move. He quickly got undressed, hoping she wouldn’t look up from the pillow whilst he was standing there naked, hoping he could get into bed before she saw him. She didn’t move. She was just lying there, waiting for him. The beautiful Giselle, waiting for him.

He got into bed by her side. ‘Giselle?’

There was still no answer.

His heart was pounding as he reached out for her and stroked her hair. It was a lot coarser than he thought it would be, but these women put so many products into their hair and with all the straightening and crimping many had completely damaged their wonderful locks. Libby’s hair was soft, though. He quickly put the thoughts of his best friend out of his head and brought his hand out to touch Giselle’s shoulder. To his surprise it was cold. He moved his hand down her arm and realised her arm was hard to the touch, almost like… plastic.

A flash went off in the room and Libby’s cackle of laughter came from the wardrobe.

He quickly sat up and flicked on the bedside lamp. Turning back to the woman in his bed, he realised he had been stroking Candy.

Libby fell out the wardrobe, laughing, holding her digital camera. ‘Oh God, that worked so much better than I thought it would,’ she cried, literally holding her sides from the pain of the suppressed laughter.

‘You bitch,’ he said, flushing with embarrassment.

‘Come on, it’s funny, it really is,’ she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. ‘Look, look at the picture.’ She dragged Candy out unceremoniously and dumped her on the floor and leapt onto the bed by his side. ‘Look.’ She showed him and even he had to laugh at himself lovingly caressing the shoulder of what was clearly a mannequin.

‘Oh, this is what the stuff of great blackmail is made of; this photo would be worth millions.’

He shoved her, playfully. ‘Bitch.’

She was unperturbed as she continued to laugh. ‘I never really expected you to believe the note, but I figured you would suss it as soon as you saw Candy in the bed. But you completely fell for it. Oh, that was brilliant.’

He shook his head.

She suddenly sat up. ‘And I got to see you naked. That’s revenge for the two times you’ve seen me.’

‘I feel so violated.’ He pulled the duvet up to his chest protectively.

She nudged him. ‘Hey, you certainly have nothing to be shy about.’

He blushed. How was he sitting in his bed, naked, listening to Libby talk about his penis? Life certainly wasn’t dull with her around.

‘Go on, get out, leave me to get dressed in peace, or there’ll be no lunch for you.’

Libby, still giggling, rolled off the bed and left the room. He could still hear her laughing as he got dressed.

S
eb watched
the last customer disappear through the pub door and glanced across at Amy, sitting in one of the booths and studiously making her glass of wine last an extraordinarily long time. Judith hadn’t been in the pub that night. They were alone. There was nothing to stop them now. Oddly the thought terrified him. He had been awash with guilt all day, about Judith and for Marie. But fear had been the predominant feeling. If he let anything more happen between him and Amy, he would fall deeper in love with her and it would hurt even more when he lost her. And he would lose her, he knew that. Fate would take her just like it had taken Marie.

He poured himself a glass of whisky and went and sat opposite her in the booth.

He sipped the warm, amber liquid, letting the burn hit the back of his throat, and felt the glow spread in his stomach. He swirled it around in his glass, staring at it, hoping somehow it would give him the answers. It was a young whisky in comparison to some of the bottles he kept. Only five years old. There was an irony in there, he was sure. Five years ago his life fell apart when his wife died, while up in Scotland they were carrying on with their lives as normal, distilling whisky, ageing them in their wooden casks. Life went on. It carried on regardless even if for some people it just stood still.

Amy reached across the table and took his hand and his eyes snapped up to hers.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said.

She frowned at him in confusion. ‘What for?’

‘For kissing you, for not being brave enough to tell Judith I wanted you more than anything. I never meant to hurt you, that’s the last thing I want. I can’t let anything happen between us, Amy, I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to lead you on or to tease you. I thought I was ready to move on but I don’t think I ever will be.’

‘Is this about Judith, about not wanting to hurt her? She doesn’t have to know.’

He shook his head. ‘For so long I’ve been telling myself that I never wanted to hurt her, that I couldn’t get involved with someone again because of her, but I’ve just been using her for an excuse. It’s the anniversary of Marie’s death today. Five years ago today I was standing in hospital holding her hand as she passed away. I went down to her grave today. I haven’t been for a while because it just hurts too much. I… I told her all about you, how I think she’d really like you, that you make me smile… and then it all came back, those heartbreaking feelings I felt when she died. I can’t go through that again.’

Her face fell. ‘Damn it, Seb, so that’s it then, one kiss and it’s over – we’re just going to carry on pretending there isn’t this thing between us? It’s torture.’

‘I’m sorry.’ He stood up, leaving the whisky on the table; it was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He bent to kiss her on the cheek, breathing her in. ‘I can’t give you what you want.’

He turned away from her and, whistling for Jack, he headed upstairs to bed, wanting more than anything to take her hand and bring her with him.

A
s the end
credits of
Titanic
started to roll, George turned off the TV and wiped his eyes.

‘George?’ Libby said, her voice slightly muffled by the duvet. ‘Are you crying?’

‘No, I just have something in my eye.’

She sat up to look at him. ‘In both eyes?’

‘Yes, probably hay fever or something.’

She rolled forward so she was kneeling next to him and, taking his face in her hands, she wiped his tears away.

He laughed. ‘It’s pathetic, isn’t it?’

‘No, I think it’s sweet that you cry over sad films.’

‘But I’ve seen
Titanic
about twenty times, how can I still cry over it?’

‘Because you’re an emotional person, it’s a good thing.’

They heard the main front door close and footsteps running up the stairs; there was a giggle that was undeniably Giselle, and she said something before she went into her own flat above them. The talking continued, but as it appeared to only be one-sided, George guessed she was on the phone.

‘We need to do something to bring Operation Giselle into fruition,’ Libby said. ‘You haven’t made the greatest first impression but I know she’ll fall in love with you if she had the time to get to know you properly. Are you going to ask her out?’

He absently fiddled with one of her toes. ‘No, I’m not sure if she’s the right one for me.’ He glanced over at Libby, the woman who was perfect for him in every single way.

‘Oh George, you can’t let the fear of being rejected and hurt rule your life. I know it’s scary but you have to find that courage to start again.’

He sighed quietly. If only she knew.

‘I just want to get it all sorted in my head, to know everything that I’m going to do and say before I do it. I want to get this right. So I know what I’m going to wear, what I’m going to say and where I’m taking her on our first date and, assuming that went well, we’d now be on to our second.’

‘The first date that ended with you having really dirty sex?’

‘Yes, now of course that
will
go well, she’ll be impressed with my prowess between the sheets so of course she’d want to see me again.’

‘Of course,’ she said, smiling.

‘In all seriousness, the second date is where I have to impress her. If she thinks I’m quite nice on the first date, she might be prepared to give us a second chance. If I’m only quite nice by the end of the second date, there won’t be a third.’

‘You’re right; I’ve had many dates like that. Things went well on the first, there was a lot of laughter and we’d talked constantly. But that meant that by the second date there was nothing left to say. I had one torturous second date with a very, very sweet guy talking about the weather.’

‘Exactly.’

‘OK, so what do you have in mind?’

He opened his mouth to speak but then changed his mind, then opened it again. ‘To be honest, Lib, I have no idea. I don’t really do dating, you know that. Sinead was the last woman I dated, if you could call it that – three dates over seven weeks. The second date was so disastrously boring that I was very surprised that she called for a third. In fact, I didn’t even want to go to the third date because I knew I’d be bored out of my mind, and I was, it was like wading through treacle. Which was why I was very surprised at the end of the night, when she stuck her tongue down my ear and dragged me back to my flat to have sex.’

‘Yeah, sorry I spoilt that for you.’

‘Ah that’s OK, Lib, it was never going to last anyway. So I have no idea what constitutes a great second date.’

She thought for a moment. ‘Well, it depends. If the first date went really well, then a repeat performance isn’t always a bad thing – a meal out or just a drink down the Bubble. I think if I found someone special, I could do the same sort of thing with them every day, long walks on Silver Cove beach, drinks down the pub, sitting by the fire in the winter, righting the world’s wrongs over a glass or two of wine.’

George swallowed down the lump in his throat as she had just described their relationship perfectly without even realising it. The fire crackled in the fireplace, punctuating her point.

‘Dating doesn’t need to be a big song and dance; it’s just about spending time with the one you love,’ Libby went on.

‘Libby, you are so sweet, but even in my limited experience of women, I know that to be bollocks. Women like to be wooed, spoiled, lavished with jewels and pearls and only then will they possibly consider you for a serious relationship. All that stuff that you described comes much later.’

‘OK, OK, you’re probably right. Then your second date needs to be something different, something a little exciting. A man once took me paintballing. All that running round the woods, rolling round the ground, hunting down the enemy, running from the enemy, it was exhilarating. I was so pumped with adrenaline by the time we got home; we had the most amazing sex.’

‘Right, so paintballing it is then, problem solved.’

She laughed. ‘Most girls don’t go for that sort of thing – you get covered in mud and it’s bloody painful, and the welts on your body last for weeks. But you need to do something like that, something fun and different.’

He nodded thoughtfully. ‘OK, let me practise on you again.’ A second date with Libby would kill two birds with one stone. He would get in practice for if and when he did finally pluck up the courage to ask Giselle out, but most importantly he would get to spend romantic moments with Libby and that couldn’t be a bad thing. Pretend dates meant they could both dabble in having a relationship to see what it would be like without spoiling their beautiful friendship. Anything that might blur the line between friendship and love was definitely a good thing in his eyes. But it was safe; there was a way back: if things got too close it could just be laughed off, put down to research.

‘OK,’ she said.

‘We’ve already been out on a first date and it went well.’

‘Yes it did. Now, just so I can get into role, did our date end with or without the dirty sex?’

‘Erm… for the sake of realism, I suppose without,’ he mumbled, regretfully.

‘OK.’

‘Let me take you out on a second date, tomorrow. I’ll pick you up and take you somewhere fun and then at the end of the date you can tell me how it went. Mark me out of ten, so to speak.’

‘Sounds good … ooh, what shall I wear?’

‘I can’t tell you that, it’d ruin the surprise.’

‘Love, surprises are good, but the girl needs to be slightly prepared. She doesn’t need to turn up wearing her favourite summer dress and high heels to find out she’s hiking twenty-five miles over the Pennines.’

‘Right, OK, well, just something really warm and bring a waterproof coat.’