Page 63 of The Christmas Catch
Ali’s cheeks flushed. She shook her head. “I don’t, either.”
And then Morgan didn’t care how she came across. She needed a kiss from Ali, and only her lips would do. She leaned down and acted on impulse. Just like that, she was transported back to last night. To how right it felt, to the bliss of getting to know Ali up close and personal. This morning’s kissing mirrored last night. It was too perfect. Also, far too fragile. She wanted to tiptoe around it, but also to show them off to the world.
Moments later, they came up for air, but stayed within striking distance. The only sound their shallow breathing, plus the thud of Morgan’s heartbeat in her chest. If she leaned forward, she bet she’d hear Ali’s heartbeat, too. Was she wondering where this went next?
There was, of course, an easy way to find out. Morgan could just ask. But it wasn’t that easy. ‘Hey, was this just a one-off thing for you, or could you see us repeating?’ Morgan had no idea what this was herself, so it was unfair to ask Ali. Even if she desperately wanted to.
Do not be needy.
Instead, she focused on Ali’s lips. It was so much easier to kiss them, and leave the talking to another time.
Ali had thought so last night, too, when Morgan had asked about her dad.
Sex was always easier than talking.
Morgan ran her fingertips over Ali’s slim waist.
Ali shivered.
Outside, a door slammed.
Ali cleared her throat, but held Morgan’s gaze. Morgan could almost see the thoughts racing through Ali’s mind, because they were racing through hers, too. Even if they both wanted to talk, get answers to their questions, they didn’t have time.
Morgan blinked, then stretched her arms above her head. “I guess we should get up. It’s Christmas Eve, and we need to drive home, hope our luggage arrives, and turn up at our childhood homes before Santa does.”
“Do you think we’re on the naughty list?” Ali raised a suggestive eyebrow.
“After last night, I certainly hope so.”
* * *
The hire carcompany called soon after to let them know they’d meet them at Christmas Court at midday. All of which meant they had some time to kill before they had to leave to drop off the bike and pick up the car. Jamie shooed them all out, telling Helen to drive Ali and Morgan to the nearest village to do a spot of last-minute Christmas shopping.
“Are you sure? We’ve got guests to check out and the rooms to clean.”
“It’s four rooms. I’ve done it before. Plus, when do you ever get to spend time with your cousin otherwise?” Jamie flapped his hands at them all. “Go, before I change my mind and have you all cleaning the loos.”
That brought a smile to Helen’s face. “You heard the man.”
They parked the car at the top of the main street, and Ali pulled her mustard scarf tight. She was in clean clothes for the first time in a few days, which felt amazing. She wasn’t sure how the chat was going to roll once she was alone in their car with Morgan, but she’d worry about that when she got there. For now, she was going to revel in what was in front of her. And that was a picture-perfect Christmas village.
The main street swept down before them, a blaze of independent local shops selling gifts, plants, clothes and walking gear, along with a variety of pubs, cafes, restaurants and bakeries. The streetlamps were hung with festive lights, the snow cleared and the pavements gritted. However, even with the morning sun low in the milky blue sky, the cold still lingered in the brittle air.
“I want to show you these gorgeous gingerbread houses they do at the bakery. I always thought gingerbread was for American Christmas movies, but it turns out, rural Cumbria is mad for them too!” Helen walked them over to the bakery, its windows covered in glittery Christmas signage. But what truly drew the eye were the gingerbread houses on display in the window. Not just houses, but also shops, hotels, and even a gingerbread pub.
The pub was named The Rising Sun. Just like hers back home. Ali’s eyes filled up when she saw it. She could still picture her dad behind the bar, even though she knew he wasn’t there anymore.
Morgan pressed her nose to the shop’s glass. “Does that pub sign say what I think it does?”
Ali went to nod, but only smacked her forehead against the glass as she peered too close. She let out a yelp and held her head.
“Are you okay?” Helen asked.
“You should ask the glass that.” Ali gave a wry grin as she took her hand away. Her forehead still smarted. “But it says The Rising Sun, doesn’t it?”
Morgan nodded. “You think it’s a sign?”
“That there are a lot of pubs called The Rising Sun?”
