Chapter 4 #2
In a few moments, they’re gone, the jukebox shifts into another light instrumental, and the pub feels very peaceful.
Intimate…
“Fancy a glass of water by the fire?” Olly suggests.
“Sounds good,” I agree, grateful for a few more minutes to gather my one-night-stand courage.
We claim a cozy spot on a worn leather sofa, and Reggie appears with waters and two steaming mugs.
“Mulled wine on the house,” he announces. “The least I could do for the entertainment you two have provided tonight.” He nods over his shoulder as he backs away. “We’re starting closing duties, but you’re welcome to stay until we head for the door.”
“Thanks, Reg,” Olly says. “Appreciate it.”
I take a sip of the wine and moan. It tastes like Christmas in a cup—cinnamon and cloves and a citrus explosion. “Oh my God, this is so good. Where has this been all my life?”
“You don’t do mulled wine in New York?” he asks, scooting closer.
“Not really, no.” We’re still not touching, not quite, but he’s close enough that I’m keenly aware of the centimeters between his thigh and mine.
“What do you poor Yanks drink at Christmas?”
“Eggnog mostly. Which now seems completely inferior.” I take another sip, sighing as the warmth spreads through my chest. “Though honestly, I don’t do much holiday drinking. I’m too busy with work. I did ten parties in six days last December.”
“That’s criminal.”
“That’s business.” I tuck my stocking feet underneath me, wondering if I have the guts to pull off a Sarah from Love Actually and make Olly stand by the entrance to my room while I quickly change into something sexier.
I’d really rather not face my first one-night stand in a wrinkly, coffee-stained suit and my everyday underwear.
“This year was supposed to be different,” I continue. “I was going to take a week off for the holidays, then head down to New Jersey to spend time with family. But then this opportunity to pitch Fletchers came up, and…”
“And you couldn’t say no,” he finishes.
“Couldn’t afford to say no,” I counter. “My business partner and I just lost our biggest client, right after signing the lease on a fancy new office space we can now no longer afford. Money is tight, and if I don’t land this contract…
” I sigh. “If I let Maya down after I promised I could handle this…” I trail off again.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring down the vibes. ”
I really didn’t. Ugh. So far, I suck at transitioning from flirting at the bar to sealing the deal.
“You didn’t,” Olly assures me gently.
I glance over to see a serious expression on his face for once.
“I get it,” he says. “I work a lot, too. And there’s nothing worse than feeling you’ve let a friend down.
Or family.” He glances toward the fire as he adds, “My father used to say that as long as you’re trying your best, with integrity, there’s no need to worry about things like that, but…
” He turns back to me with a wry smile. “He wasn’t a man who often made mistakes.
He always seemed to know exactly what to say, what to do.
Navigating a position of great responsibility and public scrutiny came easily to him. ”
“He sounds like a wonderful man,” I say, sensing there’s a reason for the grief lingering beneath Olly’s words.
It’s a hunch he confirms when he adds, “He was. And very wise. I miss his wisdom the most, I think. And his laugh. This is our first Christmas without him.”
I cover his hand, giving it a squeeze. “I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine how hard that must be.”
“Thank you.” He turns his hand over, threading his fingers through mine, sending a fresh tingle of awareness across my skin. “Now who’s harshing the vibes? Can you forgive me?”
I nod, my gaze locked on his, trying to pin down the exact color of his oh-so-magnetic eyes. They’re not purely blue or purely gray, but a mixture of the two, like the River Thames in winter.
It’s a romantic thought, not a sexy one, but I can’t help it. Sometime in the past hour, a part of me has started to wonder what it might be like to have more than a one-night stand with this man.
“Can I escort you to your hotel on the subway, Emily Darling?” he asks.
“Not to be a cad, of course. I’ll behave myself.
I just want to make sure you get home safely.
The subway’s likely the only form of transport still operational in this mess, and it can be a little tricky if you’re new to the tube and had a few. ”
“That’s very kind of you,” I murmur, knowing it’s now or never. I gather my courage, suck in a bracing breath, and add, “But what if I don’t want you to behave yourself?”
“No?” His eyes darken. “You don’t?”
I shake my head slowly back and forth, hyperaware of every point where we touch—hands, knees, the side of my thigh pressed against his. “No. I don’t.”
“Well, in that case, I—”
Reggie clears his throat nearby, making us both flinch. I glance up, shocked to see the bartender standing just a few feet away.
I was so locked in on Olly, I didn’t hear him coming…
“Sorry, folks,” he says, looking nearly as embarrassed as I feel. “Hate to interrupt, but I’ve got to lock up. Wife’ll have my head if I’m any later. We’re getting up at the crack of dawn to finish the holiday shopping, and her mum’s coming by to watch the kids. You know how it is.”
“Of course, thank you so much for letting us stay,” I say, bolting to my feet, wondering where my shoes have gotten off to.
“Absolutely, Reg, no trouble at all,” Olly says. Then, as if reading my mind, he points beneath our card table. “I think your shoes are under there, Em. If you want to fetch those, your purse, and your coat, I’ll rescue your suitcase from the manger, and we’ll be off. You said you’re in Mayfair?”
I nod. “Yes. At the Winthrop Mayberry.”
“That’s quite a jaunt,” Reggie says, concern in his voice. “And I haven’t seen a cab in hours.”
“I’ll get her home safe on the subway,” Olly assures him, the protective note in his voice melting the last of my hesitation.
Yes, he was a sarcastic ass at first, but only for like five minutes. Then, he apologized and has been completely lovely and funny and charming for…two hours? Three?
I suddenly realize I have no idea what time it is.
I fetch my cell from my purse as I stuff my feet into my ruined shoes.
Midnight.
The witching hour.
Not a good time to make big decisions of any kind, but as we bid Reggie farewell outside and toddle off in the direction of the closest tube station, I can’t help looping my arm through Olly’s.
The last thing I want is to say goodbye.
The storm has gentled into a dreamy, cinematic snow. Fat, lazy flakes drift down from the gray sky, catching the light from the street lamps. The city is covered in a pristine coat of white, the streets are empty, and it feels like we’re the only two people in London.
“God, it’s beautiful,” I breathe, lifting my face to the sky.
“You’re beautiful,” Olly murmurs, summoning a fresh flush to my cheeks. “Very beautiful, but there’s no pressure. If you’ve changed your mind about me behaving myself, I can see you home and take my leave.”
As we stop at the corner, I glance his way, deciding he’s even sexier in the snow. “No,” I whisper, heart galloping in my chest. “I haven’t changed my mind. Unless…you’ve changed yours.”
“No, I haven’t. Not at all.” He clears his throat, looking almost as nervous—and exhilarated—as I feel, making a foolish part of me hope this isn’t something he does every weekend, either.
Yes, he’s a gorgeous, classy, funny, likely-wealthy man if his leather Crockett and Jones Oxfords are anything to judge by.
But he’s also been grieving his father.
And he said he works a lot, too.
In the name of bolstering my confidence, I let myself believe we’re in the same boat as he threads his fingers back through mine.
“So, the tube station is about a ten-minute walk this way.” He nods in the direction we’ve been going.
“And then we’ll have a transfer to get to Mayfair. Or…we could go to my guest place.”
He turns, pointing across the street. There, on the other side of a small, open square, is one of those beautifully redesigned structures they’re turning into luxury apartments all over the city.
“I keep a flat in the building for family and friends when they’re visiting,” he continues. “All the comforts of home and, best of all, we could be warm and dry in two minutes flat.”
Two minutes…
I could be alone with Olly in two minutes.
I mean, I’m already alone with him, but we could be alone alone. In a place with a door, we can close to shut out the world.
A place with a bed…
I should say no. I shouldn’t go home with a man I barely know, who I haven’t even kissed yet. I should tell him I would be more comfortable if he came to my hotel, where there will be plenty of people around to hear me scream for help, on the off chance I need it.
Even better, I should march my frozen feet to the tube all by myself, go back to my sensible hotel room where I can make sensible lists and stay focused on salvaging my professional reputation.
That’s what Responsible Emily would do.
But Responsible Emily would have left hours ago and missed out on the best night she’s had in years. And then I wouldn’t be standing in the snow with a beautiful man looking at me like I’m the only thing he wants under his Christmas tree.
So, really, there’s only one thing left to do.
One obstacle left between me and a steamy night with the sexiest man I’ve ever met in real life.
“I think the guest place is a no-brainer, but there’s one thing I need first,” I say, my voice wobbling as I step closer, bringing my hands to his chest.
“What’s that, love?” he asks, the huskiness in the words giving me the confidence to slide my arms around his neck.
“A kiss, silly,” I whisper.
His lips curve as he cups my face in one big hand. “Of course. You’re right, how silly of me.”
Then his lips are on mine, and I instantly know that the world will never be the same.
My world, anyway…
I’ve been kissed before, obviously. And in my share of romantic places.
I’ve been kissed at a swanky rooftop party on New Year’s Eve and on the Brooklyn Bridge at the end of a hazy summer night.
I was once even kissed at the top of the Empire State Building by a man who’d just said he loved me for the first time.
But I’ve never been kissed like I’m something worth stopping time for.
Like I’m a treasure a man can’t bear to think of sharing…
Olly’s teeth graze my bottom lip, and I gasp, my fingers tangling in his hair as the kiss grows hotter, deeper.
All of a sudden, something inside me cracks.
All the grind of the past year, all the nights choosing working over living, all the times I’ve watched other people heading out for fun on the weekend, only to feel I didn’t deserve fun until I levelled up.
Until I proved that I could be as exceptional as the rest of my family.
As exceptional as Dad is as a history professor and Mom is at selling real estate, and Isabelle is on the ice.
But right now, I don’t care about being exceptional; I just want to feel.
Exceptionally.
I want to drown in this man’s kiss, melt beneath his touch, get lost and found in the electrical field we create together, and finally feel what it’s like to throw caution to the wind and burn.
I’ve never burned before, but tonight…
I’m already on fire, and we’re still completely clothed in the middle of a snowstorm.
When we finally break apart, we’re both breathing hard.
Then, I grin.
And he grins.
And then we’re kissing again with even more wild abandon than before, giggling and moaning and exhaling eager, can’t-wait-to-touch-you sighs as we stumble back the way we’ve come.
Back toward his guest flat.
Where we’re going to be alone.
Finally, alone.
A very happy Christmas to me…