Page 11 of A Cosy Christmas with the Village Vet

10

BROGAN

Brogan hadn’t expected today to turn out quite the way it had. Getting a phone call from Ciara (who she knew from when she used to live in Skeltwick) a few weeks ago with a last-minute invitation to her wedding had been a big enough surprise, but this situation with Nick had capped that. Big time. To think her initial feeling had been to turn Ciara down, but she’d been persuasive. ‘I’ve checked and the hotel’s still got a couple of rooms available so you could stay over, wouldn’t have to drive,’ she’d said. Feeling at a low ebb, the prospect of spending the rest of her life alone taking up way too much of her headspace recently, and thinking it would be a change of scenery at least, Brogan finally agreed. Her best friends, Anoushka and Kristy had encouraged her too, telling her she could slip away to her room if she felt things were getting too much for her, treat herself to a luxury bubble bath using the specially created toiletries the hotel was noted for. And now she was really rather pleased she’d taken their advice.

Nick was easy to talk to. They’d connected straightaway; it felt like she’d known him for years, which was bizarre because she was usually quite reserved with strangers, not letting her guard down until she felt comfortable with them. But with Nick it felt different. She felt like she could be herself with him, didn’t need to put her barriers up. And it was nice flirting with him too. She thought she’d forgotten how – not that she’d had much practice! She hadn’t dated anyone since her split with Archie three years earlier. He’d been the last man who’d had the full extent of her flirting repertoire, and she’d been with him for four years. Yep, in any ordinary situation, chatting and getting flirty with a bloke, she would, without a doubt, be as rusty as an old garden gate. But it didn’t feel that way with Nick. It helped that he had the most gorgeous clear blue eyes; she’d found it hard not to gaze into them. His fringe was cute too, with its cow lick that made it stick up no matter how many times he tried to flatten it down. She’d never been a big believer in fate, and would probably call herself a sceptic, but something deep inside her told her he was the reason she was meant to be at the wedding. She didn’t question how she knew; she just did. Which was why she didn’t hesitate when he asked if he could kiss her; she wanted it more than anything else in the world at that moment.

Feeling Nick’s lips on hers was utterly mind-blowing. They were warm and soft and… boy, did he know how to use them. She’d never been kissed like that before; the surge of feelings it aroused were all-encompassing. With a groan, she pushed her fingers into his hair, kissing him harder. She was tingling all over, including the places she’d forgotten could tingle! Before she knew it, they were making their way back to his room, and the door had hardly clicked shut behind them before they were tearing each other’s clothes off, their kisses growing more urgent by the second. The thought that she was glad she’d treated herself to some new lacy underwear flitted through her mind. She was relieved that she wasn’t wearing her usual misshapen belly-whackers.

Afterwards, they lay in a tangled mass, sheets knotted, legs entwined, clammy skin against skin, a warm, sultry glow around the room. Brogan’s head was resting on Nick’s chest; she could hear the solid thud, thud of his heartbeat, feel the warmth of his toned body as he absently ran his fingers over the top of her arm. How was it possible she’d only known him for a few hours when it felt like she’d known him for years? She’d never felt such contentment, as if this was exactly where she was meant to be.

Nick pressed a kiss to her head before tucking his fingers under her chin and tilting her face to his. He kissed her again, rolling onto his side, propping his head up on his hand. ‘I just wanted to look at you again, remind myself how beautiful you are.’

Brogan felt her face burn crimson. Feeling suddenly shy, she pulled her gaze away from him. ‘Don’t be daft. I’m not beautiful, I’m ordinary; you’ve got beer goggles on.’

‘I have not! And you are most definitely not ordinary. I couldn’t stop looking at you the moment I first set eyes on you.’

‘I think that’s called morbid fascination,’ she said, self-deprecatingly, following her words with a giggle. ‘I’ve got wild red hair that I can’t tame no matter how hard I try, more freckles on my face than any person needs, there’s a bump on my nose, I’ve got pasty skin, oh, and a big bum for good measure. And that’s just for starters.’

Nick leant down and kissed her tenderly. ‘I think you must look at yourself through some sort of wonky comedy mirrors. I can’t see anything of the person you’ve just described. Like I said, you’re beautiful, and your hair’s stunning.’ He ran his fingers through it. ‘It’s your crowning glory.’

‘Hang on a minute, are you sure you’re a northern man? ’Cos if you are, you should know that’s not the way northern blokes are supposed to talk. I was led to believe it was more comments like, “By ’eck, you scrub up well, lass”, that kind of thing. And if you don’t mind me saying, you’re in danger of sounding a little bit cheesy.’

Nick threw his head back and laughed. ‘Point taken. And, yes, I’m very definitely a northern man – born in York actually, got the birth certificate to prove it – and I have to confess, I’ve never spoken to a woman like this before. Not that I’ve told any of my girlfriends they “scrub up well”, but nor am I the caveman type with a habit of clubbing any woman who takes my eye over the head and dragging her off to the nearest cave. But in truth, I’ve never had the compulsion to say the things I’ve said to you.’ He took a moment, as if considering this. ‘Which can mean only one thing: it’s your fault, you’ve brought it out in me. I hold you entirely responsible.’

‘It that right?’ She smiled, gazing up at him.

‘’Fraid so.’ His eyes twinkled.

‘Well, you don’t want to let your mates hear you talking like that, or they’ll be chasing you out of town and confiscating your flat cap.’

‘Hmm. Good point.’ He grinned down at her and kissed the tip of her nose. ‘How did you know I have a flat cap?’

Brogan found this banter enjoyable; it was far easier to navigate than having compliments bestowed upon her. She wasn’t good at accepting them, didn’t know how to respond to them. She snuggled into Nick. He felt solid and safe and warm. She didn’t ever want this night to end.

Nick flopped back on the pillow, pulling her closer to him. ‘Don’t know about you but I’m not in a hurry to re-join the celebrations downstairs. I’d much rather stay here with you.’

Brogan’s heart swelled with happiness and she sighed contentedly. ‘I’d rather stay here with you too.’Is this really happening? How is it possible to feel this happy with someone I barely know?She closed her eyes, savouring the moment. Much as it felt surreal, it also felt intrinsically right.

‘In that case…’ he said, leaning over her and pressing a tantalizing kiss to her lips, ‘I’ve got a very good idea of how we can spend the rest of the evening.’ He kissed her again and she felt her insides dissolve into a puddle.

11

BROGAN

The first thing Brogan became aware of when she woke the following morning was how warm and comfy the bed was, the duvet soft and puffy. She blinked drowsily. The room was in darkness but for a shaft of light reaching in from the ensuite bathroom.Ensuite bathroom?Her bedroom didn’t have an ensuite bathroom the last time she looked. Was she still asleep? Was she dreaming? Her feeling of disorientation was exacerbated by what appeared to be an arm covered in dark-blond hair thrown across her. Brogan blinked, trying to make sense of this. The owner of the arm stirred, making small murmuring sounds as he snuggled into her. Slowly, she turned until her gaze landed on…Nick!She froze momentarily, the events of the previous evening rushing back at her. ‘Oh, my God!’ She mouthed the words silently, clamping her hand to her forehead. She squeezed her eyes tight shut, trying to calm her stampeding heart.What have I done?

As carefully and stealthily as she could, Brogan began the delicate process of extricating herself from Nick’s embrace. Each minuscule movement seemed to take forever but the last thing she wanted was to disturb him. How could she face him afterthat? She’d only just met him, for goodness’ sake, and she’d spent the night with him. What must he think of her? What if his words of the previous night meant nothing and he wanted her gone as soon as he woke?Oh, jeez!How humiliating would that be? She needed to get out of there, get back to her room, and quick.

Holding her breath, she eased herself off the bed, her pulse thrumming loudly in her ears as she crept around the room in the semi-darkness in search of her clothes. They’d been scattered far and wide and, as she scooped them up, she felt herself blush at the memory of how urgent things had been once they’d arrived here the previous evening. She remembered Nick’s hot kisses travelling down her neck…Arghh! Don’t go there!

After wriggling into her dress, she tiptoed across the floor, her shoes in her hand, and very slowly pressed down on the door handle, hoping with all her might the door wouldn’t squeak when it opened. She felt a huge surge of relief as it clicked shut on the other side, and she scurried silently back to her room.

She flung herself down on her neatly made bed, the sheets unruffled, unlike the one in Nick’s room – they’d had a bloomin’ good ruffling if her memory served her right. With a groan, she clapped her hand over her eyes as if to erase the images that had forced their way into her mind. Why did she have to go and remind herself of that? She pushed herself up on her elbows. What should she do? There was no way she could go down for breakfast later, risk seeing him there. That would be way,way, too embarrassing. He probably wouldn’t want to have anything more to do with her now that they’d…No! Stop thinking about that!He might even ignore her, which, when she thought about it, would be excruciatingly awful. The feelings that had encompassed her body and mind last night hadn’t simply withered and died; she hadn’t imagined them. They were still surging round her but, in the cold (almost) light of day, she felt exposed and foolish. Foolish for letting herself get carried away with them. Foolish for believing his words – those wonderful things he’d whispered in her ear, the way he'd made her feel.Oh!She felt the memory rush over her in a shimmer. There was no way that could be real, no way he could have meant it; it was just part of his repertoire to get a girl into bed with him. That was all. But in the moment, with all the heady emotions flying around, it had made her feel so incredibly good. ‘Ah,’ said a little voice, throwing cold water over her memories, ‘you know what your grandma used to say: if something feels too good to be true, you can usually guarantee it is. And she was hardly ever wrong.’

With all these thoughts whirling around her mind, Brogan leapt to her feet. She glanced at the illuminated numbers of the clock on the phone by the bed. It was five-past-six. There was only one thing for it. She had to get away from here and, if she was quick, she’d could be changed and gone before he surfaced.

Hurriedly, she peeled off her dress and pulled on her jeans and jumper. Then she grabbed her overnight bag and threw her things in with little regard to how badly they’d be crumpled and creased which went against her usual “everything had to be folded neatly” way. She had no time to waste on that; she could sort it out when she got home.

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