Page 41 of Christmas in Mistletoe
When they fell in the snow? Maybe.
In The Bar? Perhaps.
Eventually, Ruby broke away. This time, her smile was so broad, Fran thought it might break her face.
“You look pleased with yourself.” It wasn’t Fran’s best line.
Ruby grinned a little more. “I am. I wasn’t sure we were going to kiss, but I’m glad we did.”
Fran nodded. “Me, too. I could kiss you all night.”
“I’ll hold you to that one day.” She glanced upwards. “But right now, as much as your kisses were perfect, you think we can get out of this snow?”
Fran looked into Ruby’s gorgeous eyes and nodded. “Walk me home?”
Ruby leaned in and kissed her lips again. Her touch was feather-light, but its effect was anything but.
Fran shivered once more, as the reverberation landed in her core. “You’re going to be trouble, aren’t you?” She put a hand on Ruby’s cheek as their gazes connected.
Ruby supplied a smouldering look. “I guarantee it.”
Chapter 17
Fran wokethe following morning before her alarm went off. Despite her thick, cream curtains, she could still sense the winter wonderland beyond, its power strong. When she got up and pulled back the curtains, she wasn’t wrong. A fresh duvet of snow had fallen overnight, now at least 20-tog. If their old dog, Rhubarb, was still alive, she’d have run outside and disappeared. In Mistletoe, every December day was served chilled. However, red-hot nights could also be ordered, as Fran had experienced last night.
That kiss was still alive in her blood stream, in all her senses. Perhaps because it had been so unexpected.
The fourth quarter was for work, for the Christmas sales surge. Everyone knew that.
It wasn’t for kissing folk singers on moonlit lanes.
At least, it hadn’t been until Ruby O’Connell came along.
From the time they’d left the bar together, there had been something inevitable about the evening. Something film-worthy.
When Fran licked her lips, she could taste Ruby’s lips all over again. Her body shook as she remembered its full force.
She’d kissed Ruby. It was going to be at the forefront of her mind for the rest of the day.
Fran turned to grab her phone. Today was Saturday. If she wanted to get back to London next week, she needed to book a train. Only, she didn’t want to, did she? Maybe she could buy a day or two working from here. With a sick parent, she had the perfect excuse. Today was about them spending time as a family. Something she should have put to the top of her list a long time ago.
Fran scrolled through her phone to get the ball rolling with Damian: her absence affected him the most. If he could cover a couple of meetings and gigs, she could phone in to the rest. So long as Fast Forward stuck to their task and performed with no hiccups. But that would also depend on the outside world playing nicely, too.
Fran composed an email to Damian, then clicked send.
It bounced straight back. Mistletoe reception had struck again: hadn’t Mary said it was better this year? Hollybush Cottage appeared to be a blind spot. Fran sucked air through her teeth. She’d have to try again later.
She pulled on some jeans and a sweatshirt with a reindeer on it — a present from her parents — then strolled downstairs. When she arrived, she found Pop sitting at the round wooden table in the country-style kitchen, reading a cookery magazine. His plastered leg rested on the tiled floor, his crutches within easy reach. Dad was at the hob making pancakes.
When he heard her, Dad turned. “Good to see your ability to sniff a pancake at 100 paces hasn’t changed.”
Fran grinned. “It’s my superpower, you know that.” She kissed both her parents good morning, then flicked on the kettle, and grabbed a mug and teabag from the cannister on the side. As the water heated, she glanced out the window, her breath still taken by the snowy scene beyond.
“Is this cheering you up?” She motioned out the window as she addressed Pop.
He nodded. “I know I wasn’t in hospital for long, but the view was rubbish. This is much better.”
“It’s cracking,” Fran replied. “I was just thinking about Rhubarb. How she’d have run outside in this snow and disappeared.”
