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

‘OH.’

‘Oh God.’

‘OH.’

‘OHHHHHHHHH,’ moaned George, finally falling onto the bed exhausted. She fell down next to him.

‘Oh George,’ she called loudly, ‘that was the best sex ever. You’re amazing, big boy.’

‘Why thank you, Miss Joseph, glad you enjoyed it.’

‘No, you’re supposed to say something nice about me.’

‘Oh sorry, erm…’ He thought carefully. ‘Libby’ he said loudly, ‘you have great tits.’

‘Is that it?’

‘Well it’s true, you do.’

‘Pervert.’ She smirked. ‘I just said that was the best sex ever and all you can say is that I’ve got nice tits? Surely you can do better than that?’

He rolled his eyes. ‘Libby,’ he moaned loudly, ‘and Candy my beauty, that was the best threesome I’ve ever had.’

She could barely talk for laughing. ‘Great, now I’m some kind of sex-crazed porn star, excellent.’

‘Glad to be of service.’

‘And if they knew that Candy was that mannequin in your bedroom, they would be worried.’

He chuckled.

They lay in silence for a while to see if there was any reaction from the newlyweds. But there was none. Clearly they had been outdone.

Libby rolled onto her side, propping herself on her elbow to look at him. She smiled at the self-satisfied look on his face, as if they really had just had sex.

‘Fancy a walk?’ she said.

‘Yeah of course.’

‘Well get out my bedroom then so I can get dressed.’

‘Aw, am I never going to get a repeat performance of your nudity?’ he said as he walked out.

‘Nope never.’ She laughed as she closed the door behind him.

‘That’s a shame,’ George said to the closed door, ‘because I really rather enjoyed it.’

D
espite it being
the middle of winter, the sun was making a desperate attempt to warm up the windy shore. Great gusts tore at their clothes and whipped their hair around them as they walked along the almost deserted beach nestled in Silver Cove. The only other person there was Seb, throwing a ball into the surf for his beloved fat retriever Jack to collect. He waved at them as they walked.

George loved White Cliff Bay, with its tiny thatched cottages, the bigger townhouses, and the great Bubble and Froth, Seb’s pub, with the best-tasting ale in the world. He especially loved the quieter part of Silver Cove where he and Libby lived. It literally consisted of one straight road with houses on one side looking out to sea. There was a pub, a small shop and that was it. A five-minute walk up the hill and over the headland led to the main town of White Cliff Bay with all the local amenities.

He and Libby crunched over the pebbles towards one of the many rock pools that had formed on the beach. She crouched down and carefully lifted one of the big rocks to see what was under it. A small pearly grey hermit crab scurried out in protest at being disturbed and a pale yellow starfish, its legs struck out at odd angles to its body, pulsated against the mossy rock face.

‘I do love the starfish. They’re so beautiful, like a little bit of magic washed up on the beach.’ She put the rock down gently, and picked up another one.

He watched her with a smile, her dark hair streaming behind her like a banner, her large green eyes filled with a continual wonder at the varied sea life that ended up on Silver Cove beach every day.

‘If you like starfish, you’ll love the sunstar, now they’re beautiful. I’ll have to take you scuba diving one day, Lib, there’s so much more beauty out there under the waves.’

She stood up. ‘I’d love that. Would we find seahorses? I’d love to see one.’

‘I doubt it – there are some breeds that live round Britain, but they’re so shy and timid I doubt we would spot any. But there’s loads of other things we would see, the visibility round here is quite spectacular.’

‘But doesn’t it take ages to learn?’

‘I can teach you the basics, and I’d look after you. Besides, we wouldn’t be going that deep, only six or eight metres, so if anything went wrong you could just come straight back up.’

‘That would be so exciting, do you have the gear?’

‘No but a mate of mine runs a dive shop in White Cliff Bay, he’d lend me what we need.’

‘Be a bit cold though, would we wear wetsuits?’

‘Are you kidding, in these waters? We would die. It’d have to be a drysuit, and a thermal undersuit and your clothes under that.’

She laughed. ‘I’d look like a Michelin Man.’

‘Yeah. It’ll be better in the spring, warmer and the visibility is nicer too. If you stay until then I promise to take you.’

‘Maybe I can come back and visit you when it’s warmer.’

‘That would be great,’ George said, knowing in his heart that once she left at the end of the year he’d never see her again. They never spoke about that though. She insisted that they would stay in touch, but there were no friends in her life, no one she spoke to from her travels. When he had put his number in her phone all those months before he had been stunned to see her contacts list consisted of her agent and her publisher. It was easier to pretend they would still be friends than confront it, it was easier to ignore that when she left it would completely and utterly break his heart.

He carried on with the façade. ‘You have to spit in the mask to stop it from steaming up too.’

Her face fell. ‘Spit in my mask?’

He wiped a tiny splash of muddy water off her face, then quickly stuffed his hands in his pockets as he walked away from her. ‘Yeah, and no matter if you get the best-fitting mask in the world, you always get a bit of water that seeps through, which means when you take the mask off you’ll be left with a snotty residue across your face.’

She caught up with him, picking up a good-shaped pebble for skimming. ‘I get the feeling scuba diving isn’t the sexiest sport then?’

‘No definitely not, still keen?’ He turned to face her.

‘Absolutely.’

He loved that about Libby: her spirit of adventure, her boundless energy. In fact he loved every little thing about her, and had been completely in love with her ever since he first set eyes on her.

Unrequited love, he was quite the expert. As it turned out even his ex-wife hadn’t loved him.

Libby, of course, had no idea about his inappropriate feelings for her, how he loved her with everything he had.

He glanced over at her, her smile lighting up her face, her eyes reflecting the colour of the sea. It was about time he got over Libby. She just didn’t see him that way. Nothing was ever going to happen there, she was leaving in just over two weeks. By the end of the year he was determined he would be over this silly little crush and he could watch her leave without her ripping out his heart on the way out.

T
hey walked back
towards the flats, a large old house that had long ago been converted into four separate apartments and given the rather original name of ‘Sea View Court’.

George spotted a small van parked up outside. An older man was lifting a box out the back.

‘Giselle?’ the man called. ‘Giselle? Where do you want this one to go?’

A blonde girl ran down the steps wearing leggings, which showed off her wonderful long legs, and a tiny knitted jumper, which showed off her tiny waist. George swallowed. Her hair was cut short with a long fringe that swept over her eyes, but it gleamed in the sun, like gold. Her eyes were huge, an amazing intense blue. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He knew without a doubt this was the woman he was going to marry. The easiest, quickest way to fall out of love with one unobtainable woman was fall in love with another.

‘Oh thanks, Dad,’ the blonde vision said, ‘just put it in the lounge. I’ll sort it out once it’s all in.’

‘Hey, do you want some help?’ George asked, quickly leaving Libby’s side.

‘Oh, that’d be great, thanks.’ Giselle broke into a heart-stopping smile.

‘I’m George.’ He held out his hand. ‘I live at number two.’

‘I’m Giselle, and I’m on top of you.’ She tucked a strand of golden silk behind her ear. ‘I’m moving into number four.’

He ignored the innuendo for the sake of future relations. ‘Excellent.’ He took the hand that was now extended towards him and shook it warmly, just as Libby arrived at the back of the van.

‘Hi, I’m Libby, I live at number one, here let me take those,’ she said, indicating the pile of books tucked under Giselle’s arm and he watched her take them, and then she was gone. He wondered what they looked like standing there, him and Giselle, smiling at each other awkwardly. Well, Giselle was smiling awkwardly, he was grinning like a Cheshire cat. A Cheshire cat on Ecstasy.

For the next half an hour, they worked diligently between them to get all of Giselle’s stuff into her flat on the second floor. There wasn’t a lot, but what there was, he noticed, was very tasteful. There was also a lot of weird cooking paraphernalia which Libby found out was used for making different kinds of sweets for her online business.

Eventually, the van was empty and Giselle’s dad left.

‘Thank you so much,’ Giselle said warmly, ‘you’ve both been very kind. But now, well, I guess I better go and unpack. I’ll see you around.’

She disappeared up the stairs and George stared after her in wonderment. He heard her flat door close and then quickly bundled Libby into her flat.

‘George, what are you doing?’

‘Oh Lib, she’s beautiful.’ He leaned against the inside of the door and sank to the floor.

‘Yes she is, very.’

‘Libby, I think I’m in love.’

She sat down next to him and gave him a playful nudge. ‘Then go and ask her out.’

‘Are you mad, have you seen me?’

She frowned. ‘George, you’re lovely.’

‘Lovely is a polite way of saying fat.’ He absently patted his belly.

‘No, it’s not, you’re lovely and funny and incredibly attractive, ask her out.’

‘No, I need to lose some weight first, and get a haircut, maybe some new clothes.’

‘But then you won’t be you any more. This is you, and you’re perfect the way you are, anything else will just be a disguise. If she’s going to fall in love with you, she needs to fall in love with the real you. You above anyone else should know the pitfalls of false advertising.’

Writing radio adverts for a living, George knew how to sell chocolate to the Easter bunny. If only he himself could be presented in such an appealing way.

‘You’re right, Lib, she should fall in love with the real me.’ He looked down at himself, despondently.

‘Hey! You’re the loveliest, most wonderful, sweetest, kindest person I know; if she can’t see that then she’s blind.’

He kissed her head. ‘Thanks Lib.’

She stood up and pulled him to his feet. ‘Go on then, ask her.’

He paled. ‘Now? No, I can’t ask her now.’

‘Yes you can.’

‘Well what do I say?’

‘You say, “Hi Giselle, I figured you might be tired after all this unpacking, do you fancy coming to the pub for something to eat? The Bubble and Froth does a mean steak and kidney pie.”’

He nodded, yes he could do that. That was easy. Very casual, very simple. He opened the door and walked purposefully up the stairs and caught Libby doing a little giddy victory dance for him before she shut the door.

He climbed to the top of the first flight then hurried back down again, but before he reached the bottom stair he forced himself to turn around. He climbed four stairs this time, stopped, climbed one more stair then ran back to the safety of Libby’s flat.

Her face fell as he came back in. ‘What happened?’

‘Yeah, I couldn’t do it.’

‘George!’

‘Well what if she said no?’

‘What if she didn’t?’

He shrugged. ‘Maybe I’ll leave it a few days, you know, let her settle in.’

‘Maybe you should get in now before someone else swoops in. Why don’t you practise on me?’

‘What?’

‘Close your eyes and ask me out, imagine I’m a beautiful woman.’

George smiled wryly – he really didn’t need to imagine that – but he closed his eyes anyway. He could still see her though, in his mind, looking pretty in her jeans and hoodie, and funky purple boots. She had a quirky style. When she was writing her romance stuff she always had at least one pen in her hair. And though the hoodie she wore today was an old grey one, she had pinned to it the most beautiful emerald sequinned flowered brooch. It matched her eyes exactly. Though this was not helping him to prepare for asking Giselle out.

He opened one eye and looked at her expectant face. When nothing was forthcoming, she rolled her eyes and ushered him out of the flat.

‘Knock on my door and ask me out.’

‘OK, role-play, I like it,’ he grinned, ‘though I’ll get changed first, smarten myself up a bit.’

She shrugged. ‘If it will make you feel more comfortable.’

A
s George disappeared back
to his flat, Libby switched on her laptop and smiled at the tiny snowman that had been placed next to it the day before. George was clearly determined to Christmassify her, whether she liked it or not. The computer pinged to life and she opened up her current story, set in a rural seaside town at Christmas. Her publishers had expected it to be handed in months ago but for some reason this story had stagnated on her laptop. She had no desire to finish it and she didn’t know why. She was famous for her romance stories, especially Christmas ones with snow, glitter, handsome heroes and gorgeously cosy love stories, but it was the romance parts she was having trouble with the most.

There was a knock on the door and she went to answer it, ready to be seduced.

George was standing there in a full tuxedo with black tie, and gleaming cufflinks. She nearly laughed except he looked so vulnerable.

He cleared his throat, straightened his shoulders, fixed her with a sultry stare. ‘Hey little lady, fancy getting out of this hellhole and hitting some gin joints with me?’

She suppressed a laugh, but he had already seen the smirk.

‘Too cheesy?’

‘Very cheesy. Humphrey Bogart?’

‘No, that was all me.’

‘You’re overthinking it.’