Once Upon a Christmas

And with that he strolled out of the room with his usual easy confidence, letting the door swing closed behind him.

David stared after him. ‘Don’t you mind the blonde jokes and the fact that he calls you Blondie?’

Bryony shot him an amused look. ‘He’s called me that for twenty-two years.’ She fiddled with the stethoscope that Jack had looped round her neck. ‘He’s just teasing.’

‘You’ve known him for twenty-two years?’

‘Amazing that I’m still sane, isn’t it?’ Bryony said lightly. ‘Jack was at school with my two brothers but he spent more time in our house than his own.’ Mainly because his parents had been going through a particularly acrimonious divorce.

‘He’s practically family. He and my brothers were at medical school together.’

Nicky entered the room in time to hear that last remark. ‘I bet the three of them were lethal.’

‘They certainly were.’

David looked at her in surprise. ‘Of course—why didn’t I realise before? Tom Hunter, the consultant obstetrician—he’s your brother?’

Bryony smiled. ‘That’s right. And my other brother, Oliver, is a GP. When I’ve finished my rotation I’m going to join him in his practice. He’s the reason for the trip to the pub—it’s his birthday today.’

Not that they needed an excuse for a trip to the pub. Most of the mountain rescue team members lived in the pub when they weren’t working, training or on a callout.

David looked at her. ‘I can’t believe that I didn’t click sooner that Tom Hunter is your brother.’

Bryony shrugged. ‘Well, we don’t know each other that well.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ David said in an undertone. ‘I keep asking you out.’

And she kept refusing.

Conscious that Nicky was within earshot, Bryony handed David the last of the charts. ‘Here you go. Everything you need on baby Ella. I hope she does OK.’

‘Thanks.’ He hesitated and then gave her a smile as he walked out of Resus.

‘That man fancies you,’ Nicky said dryly, and Bryony sighed.

‘Yes, I know.’

‘Don’t tell me, you’re in love with Jack, the same as every other woman on the planet.’

Bryony looked at her, carefully keeping her expression casual. She’d never admitted to anyone how she felt about Jack, and she wasn’t going to start now. ‘Jack’s my best friend. I know him far too well to ever fall in love with him.’

‘Then you’re more sensible than the rest of the female population,’ Nicky said happily. ‘Every woman I know is in love with Jack Rothwell. He’s rich, single and sexy as sin. And most of us could scratch your eyes out for being so close to him. According to rumour, he spends half his life hanging around your kitchen.’

Bryony smiled. When she’d lived at home Jack had always been there, and when she’d moved into her own cottage he’d taken to dropping round so often that he was almost part of the furniture. ‘Don’t get the wrong idea. Usually he’s telling me about his latest girlfriend. He’s my brothers’ closest friend, he’s my daughter’s godfather and we’ve been in the mountain rescue team together for years. I can assure you there’s nothing romantic about our relationship.’

Unfortunately.

Nicky sighed. ‘Well, it sounds pretty good to me. I’d love to have him in my kitchen, if only for his decorative qualities. The guy is sublime.’

‘Nicky, you’re married.’

Nicky grinned. ‘I know. But my hormones are still alive and kicking.’

Bryony busied herself restocking one of the equipment trays. Strictly speaking it wasn’t her job but she didn’t want to look at Nicky in case she gave herself away.

Her relationship with Jack was good.

They had a fantastic friendship.

But even the most fantastic friendship didn’t soothe the ache in her heart.

She was about to say something else to Nicky when the doors to Resus opened again and one of the paramedics stuck his head round.

‘Has the baby been transferred to the ward? Only I’ve got her father here.’

‘I’ll speak to him,’ Bryony said immediately, glad to be given an excuse to get away from the subject of Jack. She followed the paramedic out of the room.

A tall man in a suit was hovering anxiously in the corridor, his face white with strain.

‘I’m Dr Hunter,’ Bryony said, holding out her hand. ‘I’ve been looking after Ella.’

‘Oh, God …’ he breathed out slowly, obviously trying to calm himself down. ‘I came as soon as Pam called me but I was at a meeting in Penrith and the traffic was awful.’

Bryony gave an understanding smile and slowly outlined Ella’s condition, careful to be realistic without painting too grim a picture.

‘So she’s on the ward?’ He ran a hand over the back of his neck and gave a shuddering sigh. ‘Sorry. I know I’m panicking like mad but she’s my baby and—’

‘It’s OK,’ Bryony said gently, putting a hand on his arm. ‘You’re her father and you’re entitled to be worried.’

His shoulders sagged and he looked exhausted. ‘You don’t know what worry is until you have kids, do you?’

Bryony thought of Lizzie and shook her head. ‘No,’ she agreed softly, ‘you certainly don’t.’

‘Do you have children yourself, Doctor?’

‘I have a little girl.’

They shared a smile of mutual understanding. ‘And the bond between a little girl and her daddy is so special, isn’t it?’

Bryony tensed and then she smiled. ‘It certainly is,’ she croaked, feeling as though she’d been showered with cold water. ‘Very special.’

She directed the man to the children’s ward and stared after him, feeling sick inside.

She loved Lizzie so fiercely that she rarely thought about the fact that her little girl didn’t have a father. She had plenty of father figures—her two brothers and Jack, and she’d always consoled herself that they were enough. But Lizzie obviously didn’t think so or why would she have asked for a father for Christmas?

Lizzie wanted the real thing. She wanted a father to tuck her up at night. A father who would read to her and play with her. A father who would panic and leave a meeting because she was sick.

Bryony gave a groan and covered her face with her hands. How was she ever going to satisfy Lizzie’s Christmas wish this year?

How was she going to produce a father when she didn’t even date men and hadn’t since Lizzie had been conceived? And not even then, really.

Bryony let her hands drop to her sides, torn with guilt at how selfish she’d been. Because of the way she felt about Jack, she’d shut men out of her life, never thinking about the long-term effect that would have on Lizzie.

It was true that she didn’t want a man in her life, but it was also true that Lizzie needed and wanted a father.

And suddenly Bryony made a decision.

She was going to stop dreaming about Jack Rothwell. She was going to stop noticing his broad shoulders. She was going to stop noticing the way his cheeks creased when he smiled. She was going to stop thinking about what he looked like with his shirt off. In fact, she was going to stop thinking about him altogether and start dating other men.

Finally she was going to get a life.

And Lizzie was going to get a daddy.

CHAPTER TWO

BRYONY paused outside the entrance to the pub, her breath clouding the freezing air. She could hear the muffled sounds of laughter and music coming from inside, and she lifted her chin and pushed open the door.

They were all there. The whole of the mountain rescue team, most of whom she’d known for years, crowding the bar and laughing together. In one corner of the bar a log fire crackled and the room was warm and welcoming.

‘It’s Blondie!’

There were good-natured catcalls from the moment they spotted her and Toby, the equipment officer, slipped off his stool and offered it to her with a flourish.

‘Hi, guys.’ She settled herself on the stool and smiled at the barman. ‘Hi, Geoff. The usual, please.’

He reached for a bottle of grapefruit juice. ‘On the hard stuff, Bryony?’

‘That’s me.’ Bryony nodded her thanks and lifted the glass in a salute. ‘Cheers, everyone. And happy birthday, Oliver.’

Her brother grinned. ‘Thanks, babe. You OK?’

‘I’m fine.’ In fact, she was better than fine. She was brilliant. And she was finally going to restart her life.

As if to test that resolve, Jack strolled over to her and dropped a kiss on her cheek.

‘What did the blonde say when she walked into the bar?’

‘Ouch,’ Bryony answered wearily, rolling her eyes in exasperation. ‘And, Jack, you really need some new jokes. You’re recycling them.’

He yawned. ‘Well, I’ve been telling them for twenty-two years—what do you expect?’

‘A bit of originality would be nice,’ she said mildly, taking another sip of her drink and making a point of not looking at him. She wasn’t going to notice Jack any more. There were plenty of men out there with good bodies. He wasn’t the only one. ‘Maybe I should dye my hair brown to help you out.’

‘Brown? Don’t you dare.’ Jack’s voice was husky and enticingly male. ‘If you dyed your hair brown, you’d ruin all my jokes. We love you the way you are.’

Bryony took a gulp of her drink. He didn’t love her. And he never would love her. Or, at least, not in the way she wanted him to love her.

‘Bry, are you free on Thursday or Friday?’ Oliver leaned across the bar and grabbed a handful of nuts. ‘Mum wants to cook me a birthday dinner, whole family and Jack in attendance.’

Bryony put her glass down on the bar. ‘Can’t do Thursday.’

Jack frowned. ‘You’re on an early shift. Why can’t you do it?’

Bryony hesitated. ‘Because I have a date,’ she said finally, and Oliver lifted his eyebrows.

‘A date? You have a date?’

Jack’s smile vanished like the sun behind a cloud. ‘What do you mean, you have a date?’ His voice was surprisingly frosty. ‘Since when did you go on dates?’

Bryony took a deep breath and decided she may as well tell all. ‘Since I saw Lizzie’s Christmas list.’

At the mention of Lizzie, Jack’s expression regained some of its warmth. ‘She’s made her list already?’

‘She has indeed.’

‘Don’t tell me.’ His voice was indulgent. ‘She wants something pink. A new pair of pink wings for her fairy costume?’

‘Nope.’

Oliver looked at her searchingly. ‘Well? We’re all dying to hear what she asked for. And what’s it got to do with you going on a date?’

Bryony sat still for a moment, studying her empty glass. ‘I’m going on a date,’ she said slowly, ‘because Lizzie wants a daddy.’ She looked up and gave them a bland smile. ‘Lizzie has asked for a daddy for Christmas.’

There was a long silence around the bar and the men exchanged looks.

It was Jack who eventually spoke first. ‘Does she realise that they’re not all they’re cracked up to be?’

There was bitterness in his tone and Bryony frowned slightly. She knew that his parents had divorced when he’d been eight and she also knew that it had been a hideously painful experience for Jack.

But it was unlike him to ever mention it.

Like most men, Jack Rothwell didn’t talk about his feelings.

‘A daddy?’ Oliver cleared his throat and exchanged looks with Tom. ‘Does she have anyone in particular in mind?’

Bryony shook her head. ‘No. She’s leaving the choice up to Santa, but Mum gave me the letter and she’s listed the qualities she’s looking for.’

‘She has?’ Oliver gave an amazed laugh and glanced round at the others. ‘And what are they?’

Bryony delved into her pocket and pulled out a rumpled piece of paper. She cleared her throat and started to read. ‘I want a daddy who is strong so that he can swing me in the garden. I want a daddy who is funny and makes jokes. I want a daddy who lets me watch television before school and who won’t make me eat sprouts because I hate them and I want a daddy who will meet me at the school gate and give me a hug like the other daddies sometimes do.’ Bryony broke off at that point and swallowed hard, aware of the stunned silence around her. ‘But most of all I want a daddy who will hug my mummy and stay with us for ever.’

No one spoke and Bryony gave a small shrug. ‘That’s it.’

She folded the paper carefully and put it back in her pocket, and Jack frowned.

‘I never knew she wanted someone to pick her up from school,’ he said gruffly, glancing between Oliver and Tom. ‘We could do something about that, guys.’

‘Sure.’ Tom nodded agreement immediately and Bryony lifted a hand.

‘Thank you, but no. That isn’t what she wants. In fact, that would probably make it worse because the person who is picking her up isn’t her daddy.’

Oliver frowned and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. ‘So where did it come from, this daddy business?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bryony shrugged. ‘I suppose she’s just getting to that age where children notice differences between themselves and others. Most of the kids in her class are in traditional families.’

‘You’ve been reading her too many fairy stories,’ Jack said darkly, and she shrugged.

‘She’s a little girl, Jack. Little girls dream of weddings.’

Oliver grinned at Tom. ‘Some big girls dream of weddings, too. I find it terrifying.’

‘Stop it.’ Bryony frowned in mock disapproval. ‘How my daughter has ever grown up to be remotely normal with you three around her is a mystery to me. She’s always asking me why none of you are married.’

‘Did you tell her that we’re too busy having fun?’ Tom drawled, and Bryony rolled her eyes.

‘Actually, I tell her that none of you have met the right woman yet, but that it’s bound to happen soon.’

‘Is it?’ Oliver gave a shudder, his expression comical. ‘I hope not.’

‘You’re awful. All three of you.’

Tom lifted an eyebrow in her direction. ‘Well, you’re not exactly an advert for relationships yourself, little sister. You haven’t been on a date since Lizzie was born.’

‘I know that. But that’s all going to change.’ Bryony lifted her chin. ‘I’ve decided that Lizzie needs a daddy.’

‘So what are you saying?’ Jack was staring at her, all traces of humour gone from his handsome face. ‘You’re going to go out there and marry the first guy you meet just so that she can have a daddy?’

‘Don’t be ridiculous. Of course not.’ Bryony lifted her chin and looked around her, her voice quiet but firm. ‘I’m just saying that I’m going to start dating again.’

Oliver glanced at Tom and shrugged. ‘Well, good for you.’

‘Yeah.’ Tom nodded and smiled at his sister. ‘I think it’s great. You’ve locked yourself up in a cupboard long enough. Get yourself out there, I say. Paint the town red. Or pink, if you’re using Lizzie’s colour scheme.’

Some of the other men in the team clapped her on the back and one or two made jokes about joining the queue to take her out.

Only Jack was silent, studying her with a brooding expression on his handsome face, his usual teasing smile notably absent. ‘You really think you can find her a daddy?’

‘I don’t know.’ Bryony gave a little shrug. ‘Maybe not. But if I don’t at least go on dates, it definitely won’t happen.’

When he finally spoke his tone was chilly. ‘So who’s your date with on Thursday?’

Bryony looked at him in confusion, thinking that she’d never heard Jack use that tone before. He sounded … angry. But why would he be angry? The others actually seemed pleased for her. But not Jack.

‘I’m not sure it’s any of your business,’ she teased him gently, trying to nudge their relationship back onto its usual platform, but on this occasion there was no answering smile.

‘I’m Lizzie’s godfather,’ he reminded her, his blue eyes glittering in the firelight and a muscle working in his jaw. ‘Who you choose as a daddy is very much my business.’

‘You want to interview the guys I date, Jack?’ She was still smiling, trying to keep it light, but he was glaring at her.

‘Maybe.’

Bryony gave a disbelieving laugh, her own smile fading rapidly. ‘You can’t be serious.’

‘You know absolutely nothing about the opposite sex, Blondie,’ he said coldly. ‘You’ve always refused to tell us who Lizzie’s father was but he isn’t around now which says quite a lot about your choice of men.’

Bryony gasped in shock. Lizzie’s father wasn’t a topic she discussed with anyone and Jack had never spoken to her like that before. He’d always been totally supportive of her status as a single mother.

‘I don’t know why you’re looking so disapproving,’ she said softly, aware that all the others had long since returned to their conversations and were no longer listening. Suddenly it was just the two of them and the tension in the atmosphere was increasing by the minute. ‘You date all the time.’

His mouth tightened. ‘I don’t have a seven-year-old daughter.’

‘But it’s because of her that I’m doing this!’

Jack picked up his glass from the bar, a muscle flickering in his darkened jaw. ‘That’s ridiculous. You think you can just get out there and produce a happy family like magic?’

She sighed, knowing what was behind his words. ‘No, I don’t think that, Jack. But I think that it’s time to see if I could maybe meet someone who seemed right for Lizzie and me.’

‘Your life runs very smoothly,’ he pointed out. ‘Why complicate things?’

‘Because Lizzie needs something more …’ She hesitated. ‘And I need something more, too, Jack. I’ve been on my own long enough.’

His mouth tightened. ‘So basically you’ve suddenly decided to get out there and have fun.’

‘And so what if I have?’ Bryony looked at him, confused and exasperated. ‘I just don’t understand your attitude! You and my brothers have practically worked your way through most of the females in Cumbria.’

Streaks of colour touched his incredible cheekbones. ‘That’s different.’

Suddenly Bryony decided she’d had enough. ‘Because you’re a man and I’m a woman?’

‘No.’ His fingers tightened on his glass. ‘Because I don’t have any responsibilities.’

‘No. You’ve made sure of that. And there’s no need to remind me of my responsibilities to Lizzie. That’s what started this, remember?’ She glared at him, suddenly angry with him for being so judgmental. ‘Lizzie wants a daddy and it’s my job to find her one. And I’m more than happy to try and find someone I can live with because frankly I’m sick and tired of being on my own, too.’

How could she have been so stupid as to put herself on ice for so long? She should have realised just how deep-rooted his fear of commitment was. Should have realised that Jack Rothwell would never settle down with anyone, let alone her.

It was definitely time to move on.

‘I’m going home,’ she said coldly, slipping off the barstool and avoiding his gaze. ‘I’ll see you at work tomorrow.’

She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that he was going to try and stop her, but she virtually ran to the door, giving him no opportunity to intercept her.

She didn’t want to talk to him. Didn’t want to hear all the reasons why she shouldn’t have a boyfriend when he dated a non-stop string of beautiful women.

She’d call Oliver later and apologise for ducking out without saying goodbye, but she knew he wouldn’t mind. They were a close family and she adored her brothers. At least they’d been encouraging.

Which was more than could be said for Jack.

Why had he acted like that? All right, he was absolutely against marriage, but it wasn’t his marriage they were talking about. It was hers, and Jack was usually warm and supportive of everything she did. They never argued. They were best friends.

She unlocked her car quickly, feeling tears prick her eyes.

Well, if dating other men meant losing Jack as a friend, then so be it. She’d wasted enough time on him. He didn’t even notice her, for goodness’ sake!

And if she’d needed confirmation that it was time to move on, she had it now.

Jack banged his empty glass down on the bar and cursed under his breath.

‘Nice one, Jack,’ Oliver said mildly, clapping him on the shoulder and glancing towards the door. ‘I thought the three of us agreed that we weren’t going to bring up the thorny subject of Lizzie’s father.’

Jack groaned and ran a hand over his face. ‘I know, I know.’ He let out a long breath. ‘It’s just that she knows nothing about men—’

‘She’s twenty-seven.’

‘So?’ Jack glared at Oliver. ‘And we know that she hasn’t been out with a man since Lizzie was conceived. That guy broke her heart! I don’t want her making the same mistake again. She’s obviously never got over him. What if she picks someone on the rebound?’

Tom joined them. ‘I’m not sure you can rebound after seven years,’ he said mildly, and Jack’s mouth tightened.

‘So why does Lizzie never date, then?’

Tom looked at him steadily. ‘I don’t know …’

‘Yes you do.’ Jack’s eyes narrowed as he studied his friend. ‘You think you know. I can tell.’

Tom shook his head and drained his glass. ‘No. I don’t know.’ He studied his empty glass. ‘But I can guess.’

Jack frowned. ‘So what’s your guess?’

Tom gave a funny smile and looked at Oliver. ‘My guess is that she has a particular guy on her mind,’ he drawled casually, ‘and until she gets over him, she can’t move on.’

‘Precisely what I said,’ Jack said smugly. ‘She needs to get over Lizzie’s father.’

And with that he grabbed his jacket and strode out of the pub after her.

Oliver looked at Tom. ‘I always thought he was a bright guy. How did he ever come top in all those exams?’

Tom gave a faint smile. ‘He’ll get there in the end.’

‘Unless Bry meets someone else.’

‘Bryony has been in love with Jack for twenty-two years,’ Tom said calmly, glancing at the barman and waggling his glass. ‘She’s never going to fall in love with anyone else.’

‘So what happens now?’

Tom reached for his wallet. ‘I think we’re in for a very interesting few weeks. Happy birthday, bro. This one’s on me.’

Damn.

Jack strode out to the car park, cursing himself for being so tactless. He couldn’t believe he’d argued with Bryony. He never argued with Bryony. Or, at least, not seriously. Bryony was the nearest he had to family and their relationship was all banter and teasing and a great deal of confiding. Well, on his part at least. He told her everything about his relationships and she was always giving him little suggestions. And that was one of the things he loved about their friendship. Unlike the women he dated, Bryony never tried to change him or lecture him. She just accepted him as he was. He was more comfortable in her kitchen than any other place in the world. And now he’d upset her.

What the hell had come over him?

He looked round the car park, part of him hoping that she was still there, but of course she was long gone. He just hoped she wasn’t driving too quickly. The air was freezing and the roads would be icy.

He gritted his teeth and swore under his breath. She’d been really upset by his comments and there was a very strong chance that he’d made her cry. Despite the fact that she rarely let him see it, he knew she was soft-hearted. He’d known her since she was five, for goodness’ sake, and he knew her better than anyone.

Realising that he had a big apology to make, he ran a hand over his face and strolled to his car, pressing the remote control on his keyring.

He could drive over to her cottage now, of course, but she’d still be mad with him and anyway her mother would be there so they wouldn’t be able to talk properly.

No. The apology was best left until they could be alone.

If he’d been dating her he would have sent her flowers, but he’d never sent Bryony flowers in his life, and if he did she’d think he’d gone mad.