‘You can say what you want, but you’re not getting out of wearing it, Grinch.’ I grin at him and he grins at me and I know he’s trying to be annoyed but it’s just not working.
‘Just so you know, I have never worn something that flashes before. You must have magical powers to talk me into this.’
‘It’ll be a Christmas jumper next.’ I pull my own jumper down, this one navy with snowflakes and a large polar bear wearing a blue fluffy scarf on it.
He goes to protest but Stacey clears her throat and points to one of my plywood cut and hand-painted bunches of mistletoe, something I’d thought the stems would be too flimsy to cut but seems to have worked so far and has had lots of comments from customers. ‘That could be termed “standing under the mistletoe”.’
I give her a look because it’s on the wall behind his head and there’s no way it counts. He turns around and looks too and then laughs because he’s a good few feet from it, and instead of stepping further away like I thought he would, he sidesteps until he’s standing next to it and beckons me closer.
I’m blushing furiously as I go over. Thank God I didn’t choose a red jumper today because I’d be completely camouflaged.
The advent calendar bag is still hooked over his little finger as he holds his hand out, inviting me to slot mine into it.
His eyes don’t leave mine as his fingers fold around my fingers and he lifts my hand to his mouth, like a prince would greet a princess, and his lips press gently against the back of it. Heat flares from my hand outwards, his stubble sending sparks zinging across my skin, followed by a trail of goose bumps, and the most delicious shiver goes down my spine.
How can he have that much of an effect on me with one innocent touch? Well, maybe not quite so innocent, judging by the twinkle in his eyes when he pulls back.
He’s smirking like he knows exactly what he’s done to me. ‘I figured that was the most I could get away with considering the position of the mistletoe. Solely to say thank you for the advent calendar, obviously.’
After lingering for an absurd amount of time, my fingers finally slip from his, his thumb closing over them to hang on for every moment longer, and everything feels faraway and hazy, even the carol singers on one of their trips up the lane, singing “This Christmas” by Brian Alex, a beautiful, haunting melody about Christmas wishes.
‘And on that note, I should probably open up.’ At least his cheeks have gone as red as mine must be, judging by the pulsing heat I can feel pumping from them. He backs out of the shop without dropping my gaze until he nearly falls down the step and quickly grabs the doorframe to stay upright.
‘You bought your own advent calendar!’ I call after him when I come to my senses. He stops in the middle of the lane and turns around to wink at me.
When he’s disappeared inside his shop, I sort of collapse against the counter and look up at Stacey who’s fanning a hand in front of her face.
‘Never mind a nutcracker prince, you are sure he’s not actually Flynn Rider in real life, right?’ She looks across the lane as the Santa starts up his Macarena dancing. ‘Because he seems more and more like he belongs in a Disney movie every time I see him.’
‘Maybe that’s the problem.’ I push myself upright. ‘Either he is a magical answer to a wish I made on the nutcracker, or there’s something wrong with him that hasn’t come to light yet, because men like that don’t exist in my life. He’s single, he’s gorgeous, he’s sweet, charming, and chivalrous, and so far his only flaw is that he hates Christmas. And he’s here because he wants to find some Christmas spirit … So what’s wrong with him, Stace?’
‘Do broken bones count as a character flaw?’
I laugh. ‘No. And that means there’s got to be a catch somewhere else.’
‘Or maybe it means that you’ve dated your fair share of complete prats and now the universe has finally thrown you into the path of Prince Charming.’
I give her such a sceptical look that she giggles. ‘Or maybe he is a wooden doll come to life. Maybe he is going to turn back into a nutcracker on Christmas Day and you’ll wake up and this will all have been a dream.’
‘Maybe,’ I say, but from what I know of men and dating, it’s a far more likely scenario than James actually being as perfect as he seems.
Chapter 7
It’s a couple of days later as I lug my granddad’s old hand truck trolley up the hill to work. Lily’s got a parents’ assembly in school this morning so Stacey won’t be in until later, and it feels odd and lonely to be walking to work on my own. I hadn’t realised how much I’d got used to not being alone. James was visiting his parents last night and I missed him a truly ridiculous amount for my seventh day of knowing him.
I hadn’t realised how lonely I was until now. Even though I’ve dated, it never felt any less lonely. None of those men have ever come to my house. Never eaten my food. Never watched movies with me. I’ve realised how much I tend to put off going home, and how much I work in my shed with Christmas music playing from my phone to drown out the silence, and how nice it’s been to go home with James, and how warm and cosy and Christmassy it’s felt to sit in the living room with him, get the log fire going, and a bowl of something hearty and warming and a Christmas film on the TV, even without the tree up.
