All the talk of the Grinch makes me start humming “Where Are You, Christmas?” from the Jim Carrey film under my breath and I love the feel of his face shifting into another smile through my jumper.
‘You’ve started my un-Grinching early.’ He sounds half-asleep.
‘I’d sing but you’re already in enough pain without adding burst eardrums to the mix.’
‘You can if you want. I’m pretty sure I won’t remember this in the morning. Actually, I hope I won’t remember it in the morning, given some of the things I’ve admitted out loud tonight.’
I squeeze his hand, which is inexplicably still in mine. In any other circumstance, I’m pretty sure this would be weird, but it feels completely natural with him, and I could quite comfortably sit here until we both fell asleep, even though the box of whatever decorations we’re sitting on is getting increasingly uncomfortable and I’m fairly sure I’ve got a nutcracker’s sceptre digging in my backside.
‘Hey, do you have to drive home tonight?’ It’s ages later when the thought occurs to me.
‘Yeah, but I’ve got a few hours of work ahead of me yet. I’ll be fine by the time I’m done.’
‘No.’ I’ve completely lost track of time as we’ve been sitting here and I’m surprised it’s past 10 p.m. when I check my watch. I pull my hand out of his and push gently at his arm so he knows he’s got to move, then I stand up and stretch my legs out, fold my arms and give him my most authoritative look. ‘Just no. Come on, I’m within walking distance – you can come home with me.’
He blinks up at me. ‘I’m not good company. You barely know me and you want me at your house?’
‘Nope.’ I shrug. ‘But you’re not getting behind a wheel in that state – you’ve already been in enough accidents lately, and you’re not staying here working for God knows how many more hours.’
‘I’m not?’
I shake my head.
‘Prevent other shopkeepers from working – one way to get rid of the competition, I suppose.’
‘You can barely stay upright. How much work do you think you’re going to get done in that condition?’ I ask with a raised eyebrow.
He looks down at himself. ‘Fair point, well made.’
‘Good.’ I give him a satisfied nod. ‘I’ve got a veggie hotpot with cheesy dumplings in the slow cooker. When did you last have a proper meal?’
‘Last night.’
‘A proper homecooked meal? Which you cooked to perfection with your one arm?’ I raise the other eyebrow. He does not look like he regularly eats well. He looks like he’s struggling with the injuries more than he’ll willingly let on.
‘Well, no, a Big Mac. But it was a meal and it was cooked.’
I let out another snort. I really am going to have to stop snorting in front of him. He’s going to think there’s pig in my DNA at this rate. ‘Well, Big Macs don’t come with cheesy dumplings. If that doesn’t sway you, nothing will. Can you move yet?’
‘We’ll find out …’ He shifts minutely, edging himself upright.
I hold my hand out to pull him up like I did in the shop yesterday and he grins as he slips his hand into mine again and stumbles to his feet.
‘I’m fine,’ he says eventually, squeezing my hand once before letting it go and stepping back.
I miss the feel of his hand in mine as he moves carefully, stretching slightly and stamping his feet to get feeling back into them. He pulls his black T-shirt down and readjusts the sling while I pick up the nutcracker he dropped hours ago and go to put it back in the box.
‘Keep it,’ James says. ‘I won’t sell him. Or his family.’
I look at him questioningly, and he continues. ‘Because you like him. We’ll find the rest of them and put them out somewhere. Where they’re meant to be.’
‘Thanks. That’s really nice of you.’ I straighten the nutcracker’s white beard and brush his hair down.
‘Maybe I’m not a lost cause after all.’
I grin at him because underneath his sarcasm and quick wit, there’s a softness there too, and I like his kindness and willingness to listen to me talking about Nutcracker Lane tonight, even though he hates Christmas and isn’t going to think about this place again once the festive season is over.
As we walk out of the storeroom and along the corridor, he dodges past me and pulls the door open, and I look up at him with a smile and meet his pale brown eyes as he stands back to let me go through first.
A real Prince Charming.
Chapter 4
‘It’s freezing tonight.’ James holds the entrance door open and lets me through before closing it behind him and pulling his oversized hoody tighter.
I shiver as we step out onto the walkway surrounding the car park. Our car park is on the opposite side of the building to the car park for the nutcracker factory, and now there’s just one solitary car left in it, parked in the end space near the point where I shortcut across the border. It must be his. ‘Can you still drive?’
‘Yeah, without the sling on. Thankfully it’s an automatic and I’m right-handed.’
It’s parked under a lamppost so I can tell it’s blue and looks like a sensible sort of car, and nothing like the flashy and impractical sports car I’d imagined him driving.
There’s a little path through the stubby green bushes and the earth under our feet is crunchy and iced over as I take my usual route across the border and make sure he’s following me.
He’s got his hand shoved into his pocket
