His Mistletoe Proposal

She was not his usual type at all. He preferred women who weren’t afraid to get their hair wet in the rain or get covered in mud on a long walk through the woods. He liked natural and down-to-earth and simple. Like his ex-girlfriend, Tia. The woman he’d thought he’d spend the rest of his life with.

Pushing away the sinking feeling that thinking about his ex created, he stared blankly ahead of him. He’d moved on now. There was no point in looking back. He’d promised Amy he wouldn’t do that.

As they walked on, he noticed Flora turning her head from side to side, as if trying to take in as many of the Christmassy sights as possible. The magic of the season held no allure for him at all this year. In fact, it would be fair to say that he was looking forward to the month of December being over and done with. Christmas Day was only going to remind him of how alone he was now.

‘Take a left here,’ he said into Flora’s ear, attempting to cut through the noise of the crowd as they approached the side street leading towards the pub. The expensive scent of her perfume wafted into his nose, making him shiver in the strangest of ways. It had been months since he’d been in intimate contact with a woman and his body seemed to have gone a little haywire from the absence of it.

She nodded in acknowledgement and they moved slowly towards an opening in the crowd.

He watched her sashay ahead of him—elegant but entirely self-aware.

It made him think about something else Amy had said about Flora. ‘I worry she’s losing herself in her ridiculous quest for perfection.’ Well, that fitted with what little he’d seen of her so far.

He wondered what else he was going to discover about her before the end of the day.

CHAPTER TWO

FLORA TRIED NOT to wrinkle her nose at the smell of stale beer that seemed to rise up in waves from the ugly red-and-brown patterned carpet as they entered the gloomy pub that Alex had insisted on bringing them to.

‘I’m going to order a burger at the bar. Want one?’ Alex asked as she settled herself at one of the sticky mahogany-stained tables, trying to avoid sitting on a suspicious-looking brown stain on the vinyl padded bench.

‘Er...no, thanks. I’ll just have a drink for now.’

He gave her a bemused frown, then shrugged. ‘Okay. What would you like to drink then?’

She thought about it for a moment, then decided that alcohol might actually make this situation a little bit easier. ‘I’ll have a pint of the local cider.’

His brows shot up. ‘Really? It’s pretty potent stuff.’

She bristled. ‘I might look like a lightweight, but I bet I can drink you under the table.’

‘Now there’s a challenge,’ he said, grinning at her before turning away to head over to the bar.

She watched him charm the barmaid, wondering how on earth she was going to successfully insinuate herself into his life without it looking really suspicious. She was pretty sure he’d be entirely resistant to the idea of her keeping an eye on him if he knew that was what she was really here for.

He was so different to Amy, she mused while waiting for him to come back with the drinks. It was odd, considering that they’d both been brought up in exactly the same environment at the same time. But then she and her younger sister weren’t exactly alike either. Violet was vivacious, artsy and beautiful, the total opposite of her: sensible, conventional and, if she was being totally honest with herself, only modestly attractive. Violet had always cast Flora into shadow whenever she was around; she was just one of those people with a natural joie de vivre that drew people to her.

Men, particularly.

An uncomfortable tightness had formed in Flora’s throat and she coughed to clear it as Alex finally returned to the table with her cider and a pint of lager for himself.

‘Thanks,’ she said, forcing her mouth into a smile as she took her drink from him.

He gave her a nod and sat down in the chair opposite. ‘Are you sure you don’t want anything to eat?’ he asked.

She shook her head. ‘No, thanks. I’ll have something when I get home.’ She really didn’t fancy eating here. Their table looked as though it hadn’t been wiped in ages, which didn’t give her much confidence in the state of the kitchen.

Picking up her drink, she took a few good gulps of it. The alcohol warmed her as it rushed down her throat to her stomach, lifting her spirits a little.

‘So how long have you been living in Bath?’ she asked, watching him knock back half of his own pint in one go.

His eyes met hers and she saw a reaction in them that she couldn’t quite decipher. Wariness, maybe?

‘Just over a year. I was in London for a long time, but then I got together with the band I play with now. They’re mostly based in Bath, so it made sense to move here so I could practise with them more easily.’

‘Amy told me you play jazz.’ She hadn’t meant that to sound so derisive, but she’d never understood the lure of jazz and couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to listen to it every day, let alone make a career out of playing it.

A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but he didn’t pick up on her disparaging tone. ‘Yeah, we specialise in thirties-inspired jazz and blues, but sometimes we give our sets a more modern slant if we’re in the mood and the occasion calls for it.’

‘And how’s it all going?’ she asked, this time making sure to keep her tone upbeat. ‘Is it fulfilling? How do you make it lucrative? Do you play at weddings and parties?’

He gave her a look that made her stomach clench with discomfort.

‘It’s not all about the money for me.’ He rested his arms on the table. ‘Look, I know jazz isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s worth giving it a chance before you write it off,’ he said bluntly.

She wondered whether there was an underlying meaning to that. Don’t write me off until you know me better, perhaps. He had a point, she supposed. It was wrong of her to judge before she had all the facts.

‘Perhaps I could come to one of your gigs some time?’ she said, trying to pull back favour.

He nodded and smiled in a manner that made her think he was just humouring her. His food arrived then and he thanked the server, then tucked straight into it as if he’d not eaten in days.

This wasn’t exactly going how she’d planned. She’d really not expected him to be like this: so...blasé. If she so much as thought about Amy, her whole body flooded with a heavy sort of dread and she had to think about work or something practical so as not to start welling up.

There was a good chance he was burying his pain though, so she needed to be patient and vigilant—ready to support him as and when he needed her.

‘You okay?’ Alex asked after finishing the last bite of his food, his satisfied expression morphing into a worried frown.

She realised with a start that she’d been staring at him.

‘Fine. Just thinking about my week at work,’ she lied.

‘Want to tell me about it?’ he asked, though she could tell from the edge in his voice that he was really hoping she wouldn’t.

Pushing aside a sting of hurt, she shook her head. She didn’t want him to know how difficult she was finding it to impress her new boss. ‘I’d rather just forget about it,’ she said, picking up her drink and taking a few more gulps of it for courage.

He nodded but didn’t say anything.

‘So when is your next gig?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational.

‘In a couple of weeks,’ he said, spinning his now-empty glass between his hands and glowering into the distance, as if picturing it unfavourably.

‘You know, I really would love to come,’ she said.

He turned to shoot her a look of deep scepticism. ‘I got the impression it wasn’t your type of music.’

She felt her face heat, embarrassed now by how dismissive her tone had been. ‘Yes, well, perhaps I should give jazz a chance.’ This struck her as funny for some reason. ‘Hey, you should work up a marketing campaign with that as your strapline. Give jazz a chance.’ She guffawed at her own joke, but for some reason Alex didn’t seem to find it funny.

Grump.

‘But seriously,’ she said, rearranging her features back into a sober expression. ‘I really would like to come and support you.’

‘Well, that’s very selfless of you, Flora, but I’m afraid the gig’s sold out.’

‘Oh.’ This news shocked her. Perhaps he was more successful than she’d realised. She squinted at him suspiciously. Or was he just telling her that because he didn’t want her there?

‘Can’t you get hold of extra tickets as one of the band members?’ she asked. Surely he’d be able to swing something? She really wanted to show him some solidarity. She felt sure Amy would have approved of that.

‘Nope. Sorry. I’ve already given all of mine away,’ he said, standing up so suddenly it made her start. ‘I’m going to the bar again—want another one?’ he asked, nodding to her much-depleted drink.

‘Well, I shouldn’t—’ she hedged. The alcohol had already had quite an effect on her, making everything look a little hazy and causing her to slur her words a little, but it was plain he was determined to have another and she didn’t want to leave just yet ‘—but hey, it’s Saturday, so why not?’

He gave her a curt nod and headed over to the bar without another word.

His denial of her request for a ticket to his gig still stung and she pondered how to get him to stop resisting her attempts at being friendly.

What would Amy have done?

She probably would have been upfront about the things he was trying to conceal and forced him to discuss them. But could she really talk to Alex like that without getting his back up? She didn’t have Amy’s light touch and easy wit—the woman could have talked the birds down from the trees—and she didn’t want to blow her chance of getting closer to him.

It was obvious that he needed a friend right now though, judging by the way he wasn’t taking care of his appearance.

She watched him slouch back over to where she sat, his body language self-assured but just a little bit weary.

He gave her a questioning look and she realised that she had been staring at him again.

‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked with one quizzical brow raised.

She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Yes, fine. Are you?’

He blinked slowly. ‘Yes. I’m fine, thanks, Flora.’

‘I was just thinking you looked a bit worn out.’

He sat down, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve not been sleeping well recently.’

‘Hmm, I’m not surprised. It’s been a difficult few months for you, hasn’t it?’

He shrugged, then took a sip from his drink. ‘I guess.’

Apparently subtlety wasn’t going to cut it. She considered hedging around the subject of his failed relationship, which Amy had alluded to in her letter, but decided she might as well just go for it and see what happened.

‘So are you seeing anyone at the moment?’ she asked, attempting an offhand tone.

His shoulders stiffened at the question. He folded his arms, then frowned, as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Amy asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t she?’

‘No!’ The lie came out before she had time to modify it. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all. Being friendly and taking an interest.’

‘Mmm-hmm.’ He looked at her steadily for one long, loaded moment and she felt her cheeks start to heat.

‘Okay, yes!’ she burst out defensively, unable to handle his intense scrutiny any longer. ‘Amy mentioned that you’d recently split up with someone and that she thought you were a bit cut up about it.’

‘I see. So that’s why you really called me, is it? To make sure I wasn’t about to jump off the Pulteney Bridge?’

Flora shook her head jerkily. ‘I wanted to see you so we could talk about Amy. You were the person that knew her best after all.’ There was an uncomfortable beat of silence while she took a shaky breath. ‘And I miss her.’ She felt the tears start to well in her eyes again and blinked them back. No way was she going to cry in front of him now.

Her words seemed to have had some sort of effect on him, because his posture relaxed and he reached over the table to put his hand on her forearm. Her skin tingled alarmingly under his touch, but she didn’t pull away. He probably needed some human contact too, she reminded herself.

‘Okay, yes.’ He sighed, a rueful smile appearing on his face.

‘Yes what?’ she asked, a little lost.

‘I am fairly recently out of a relationship, but I’m fine. I was cut up for a while because I thought it could become serious, but it didn’t work out. It’s okay though. I’m fine. Still in one piece,’ he said, taking his hand off her arm to thump his chest right over his heart.

His bravado had a false ring to it though. Maybe it was the repeated use of ‘fine’ or perhaps it was the flash of pain in his eyes that he hadn’t quite managed to conceal.

Her resolve strengthened. Obviously he was still hurting but wasn’t willing to talk about it with her. Well, she could bide her time. Perhaps once they’d got to know each other a bit better he’d soften and let her in. He probably needed to talk it all through with someone he trusted, and she was more than willing to become that person.

If only he’d let her.

* * *

Alex sat back in his chair with a sigh, feeling the burger and beer boosting his blood sugar levels and improving his irascible mood.

When Flora had questioned his relationship status he’d been ready to close her down fast, but had checked himself at the last minute. It was pretty clear she wasn’t the sort of person to take a brush-off lightly—she had fire and determination in those big, bright eyes of hers. He’d decided that an approximation of the truth would be the best course of action.

Hopefully she’d leave it at that now. He didn’t feel like rehashing the pain and misery of the last few months to satisfy the curiosity of a near stranger. Just because she’d been Amy’s closest friend didn’t mean she deserved his total trust and honesty.

Except it sort of did.

He sighed to himself, thinking back to the conversation he’d had with his sister in the hospice, the day she’d passed away.

‘She may seem as tough as nails,’ Amy had said, her voice weak and slurred from the painkillers they’d been pumping into her, ‘but she’ll need a friend once I’ve gone. Promise me you’ll be kind to her, Alex, especially if she comes to you looking for atonement. She’ll beat herself up about not being here to say goodbye.’

And it seemed his sister had been right.

It also looked as though he was going to have to keep the hurried promise he’d made to her as he’d watched her life ebb away.

He remembered now how her request had seemed like the only positive thing at a time when he’d felt so horrifically impotent, unable to do anything to save his sister. It had given him just a little sliver of power over the situation. He suspected Amy might have known that too.

‘I’m just going to the bathroom,’ he said, suddenly feeling an overwhelming need to escape from the poignant memories that were pressing in on his head like a vice.

‘Okay,’ Flora said, producing an overly bright smile, as if sensing his pain.

In the gents bathroom he stared at himself in the mirror, noting the dark rings around his bloodshot eyes and the unhealthy pallor of his skin. He’d not meant to get so drunk last night, but he hadn’t had the willpower to say no when his bandmates had suggested going to the pub after rehearsals. He’d also not been entirely straight with Flora earlier when he’d suggested that someone else had persuaded him to drink whisky until the early hours of the morning.

He’d done that entirely of his own volition.

Yesterday had been a difficult day and he’d felt the overwhelming need to get out of his head for a while and drown his raging thoughts. Music was usually his salvation, but it had become increasingly difficult to lose himself in it over the last few months and it was slowly driving him insane.

He slapped his cheeks, seeing colour bloom on his pale skin. Time to pull himself together.

Returning to the table, he bit back a wry smile as he noted how uncomfortable Flora looked perched on the edge of the bench, as if afraid that sitting on it fully might sully her impeccable image.

‘I swear that’s the last time I drink whisky straight from the bottle,’ he said flippantly as he sat back down, noticing Flora flinch a little. It reminded him of her less than impressed reaction earlier when he’d told her he’d only just got up. He’d laughed it off at the time but, truth be told, he’d found it virtually impossible to drag himself out of bed today.

They sat in awkward silence for a moment, both sipping from their nearly empty pints.

‘It’s no wonder you’re depressed if you spend all your time in places like this,’ Flora said suddenly in a voice that she’d perhaps meant to be jokey but actually came off as a little officious.

‘I’m not depressed,’ he stated firmly, feeling discomfort flood through him.

‘Really? Are you sure? From what you’ve told me it sounds like you could be.’

He sighed in frustration, wishing she’d change the subject. ‘If I need a shrink, I promise you I’ll give one a call.’

She ignored his pointed sarcasm and waved a hand at him, her movements suspiciously exaggerated. ‘You know, it can be a great help to get out and socialise after ending a relationship.’ She took an audible breath. ‘Perhaps if you went on a couple of dates? It might give your spirits a bit of a lift.’

He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you serious?’

Fixing him with a cool stare, she said, ‘Totally.’

‘Yeah, well, I don’t seem to be having much luck in the dating department at the moment,’ he muttered, his mind spinning back to the way he’d crashed and burned last night when he’d drunkenly attempted to chat up a woman at the bar. Not that his heart had really been in it.

She seemed to be studying him closely now, her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that how you usually dress when you go out?’ she asked after a beat.

‘Yes,’ he replied gruffly, guessing where this was going and trying not to grind his teeth.

‘Maybe if you smartened yourself up a bit you’d have more luck.’ She waved her hand at his favourite T-shirt. ‘I always find a new outfit and a haircut does my confidence the world of good.’

He dug his fingers into his thighs under the table. ‘I happen to like the way I dress.’

She shot him a patronising smile. ‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude but your clothes look so old I suspect they’re about to get a telegram from the Queen any day now.’

A heavy pulse had begun to throb in his head. ‘Oh, really? Well, at least they have personality. You look like every other fashion victim on the street.’

She blinked at him in shock before regaining her composure. ‘At least I made an effort with my appearance today,’ she replied tightly, her words sounding more slurred now. ‘It’s clear you couldn’t care less. You didn’t even turn up on time to meet me, just left me sitting there like a lemon on my own for twenty minutes, only to turn up looking like a vagrant.’

He leaned forward in his chair, aware of his heart thumping hard against his chest, and matched her fierce gaze. ‘Look, I get it. You feel some misplaced obligation to “take me in hand” and alleviate your guilt about not being there at the end for Amy.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘But I don’t need another sister figure and I certainly don’t need some uptight do-gooder telling me how to live my life!’

‘I’m only trying to help, Alex,’ she snapped back.

‘I don’t need your help, Flora.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Yes!’

‘Well, you know what? Since we’re being so honest with each other now, perhaps you should know that Amy really struggled with your arrogant determination to keep everyone at arm’s length,’ she bit out, the increased volume of her voice causing the couple at the next table to turn and stare at them. She seemed to have hit her stride though, so didn’t appear to notice. ‘And it was incredibly frustrating for her that you found everything you did so easy when she had to work so hard for success. Then she had to watch while you just squandered your brain and your talents when she would have killed for them!’ she hissed, her tongue obviously completely loosened now by strong cider and frustration.

Anger and guilt battled inside him. He was acutely aware of what a risk he’d taken, jacking in his steady job to follow his ambition to be a professional musician, but he didn’t need to be reminded of it right now. ‘I think what you really mean is that a slacker like me should have been the one to die, rather than my hard-working sister,’ he bit out defensively.

‘What? No!’ She looked absolutely horrified that he could even suggest that.

He sighed, feeling his conscience prick, then held up a weary hand in recognition that he’d gone a bit too far with that statement. ‘Okay, okay.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘Actually, I did know she felt like that—we talked about it before she died. But she told me to do what made me happy. She realised there was more to life than selling your soul just so you can wear overpriced designer clothes to eat at overhyped restaurants.’

Her eyes widened as if his words had hit her right in the solar plexus. ‘So now you’re having a go at me for enjoying the fruits of my success?’

He sighed in exasperation. ‘No, that’s not what I’m doing.’ A voice in the back of his mind pointed out that it was exactly what he was doing.

‘Well, it seems like it to me!’ She took a deep, juddering breath. ‘You know what? I’m going home. I know when I’m wasting my time.’ Picking up her drink, she downed the rest of it, then stood up, wobbling a little on her heels. ‘I was just trying to be friendly, Alex!’ she said in a strangled voice. With that parting shot, she spun on the spot and stormed away from him, only just avoiding stumbling into the wall on her way to the door.

Alex dropped his head into his hands and cursed under his breath.

He really shouldn’t have had a go at her like that, but when she’d started her character assassination of him something inside had snapped. He’d had just about enough of women telling him what was wrong with him.

The look of hurt on Flora’s face had brought him up short though. Clearly she was still struggling to come to terms with his sister’s sudden death and was desperately trying to find a way to give her life some meaning—by attempting to fix his.

Sighing, he got up from his chair and pulled his coat on. He couldn’t just let her storm off in that state. He at least needed to make sure she got home safely, even if she refused to speak to him again.

After giving the barmaid a wave of thanks he followed Flora out of the pub. It was cold outside and he pulled his lapels across his throat and folded his arms against the icy wind as he trudged after her lone figure, watching in alarm as she swayed along the pavement, almost bumping into a couple coming the other way. He had no idea where she lived, but he hoped it wasn’t far.

It wasn’t.

She turned into the next street along, which housed a row of grand terraces, and strode up to a pillared entrance a few doors down. Fumbling in her handbag, she pulled out a key, which she proceeded to stab at the lock.

He watched her, half amused, half exasperated, as she failed to get the key into the lock over and over again. Shaking his head, he walked up behind her and took the key from her hand, feeling her jump in surprise at his unexpected presence.

‘I don’t need your help,’ she said archly, but he ignored her, sliding the key into the lock and swinging the door open for her.

‘After you,’ he said, gesturing for her to go first, then rolling his eyes when she snatched the keys from his hand and swept past him with her head held high. This time, she managed to get the key to the inner flat into the lock on her second try. She barrelled inside, shrugging off her coat and haphazardly kicking off her shoes in the small but elegant hallway. Her whole posture was stiff now as if she was desperately trying to keep her composure under control and as he followed her inside the flat—just to make sure she wasn’t going to walk into a wall and knock herself out—he saw her shoulders slump as if she’d lost the battle.