Chapter 15 #2
Jake paused. His eyes tracked slowly over Ru’s face, down to his mouth, then back up in a way that made Ru’s heart rate accelerate. “Might have something,” he said, setting aside his just finished garland. “Give me a minute.”
He disappeared upstairs, returning several minutes later with a battered cardboard box that had seen better days.
“I found these in the attic when I moved in. I’ve only used them once or twice before.”
Inside were several strands of fairy lights, old-fashioned with large coloured bulbs rather than modern LED strings.
“These are perfect.” Ru lifted one strand. “Do they still work?”
“Don’t see why not. They’ll look best hanging from the mantlepiece in the living room.” Jake gathered them up, along with the garland, and Ru followed him out of the kitchen.
In the living room, Jake knelt by the side of the big, brick fireplace and pressed the plug into the socket.
The lights didn’t even flicker. Instead, they lit up in a warm glow of red, green, blue, and yellow, transforming the room. Monty, stretched out on the rug in front of the wood burner, wagged his tail in approval.
“They’re beautiful,” Ru said softly, watching as Jake draped them along the mantelpiece, weaving them around the garland he’d created.
The lights cast both highlights and shadows along Jake’s cheekbones, making Ru’s stomach tangle and tighten.
He looked away. What the hell was wrong with him?
He was running away from complications, not running to them.
Hadn’t he told Antonia, when he’d shocked her by wanting to stay in the cottage at Bobblecombe, and as far away from London, double shot macchiatos and biscotti as he could get, that he was for the sake of his sanity and dignity distancing himself from men who only ever wanted him before someone, or something, better came along.
Guilt pulsed through him. Jake wasn’t like any of the men he’d known.
No glossy veneer, what you saw was what you got.
And what you got may have been grumpy and terse sometimes, but it also came with a healthy dose of care, consideration, and protection.
A sour taste filled Ru’s mouth. He’d been shortchanged on all three by his lousy ex.
All he was doing was responding to the difference that was Jake, and the situation, the pair of them marooned in a sea of snow.
It was… Ru searched for the word. Projection.
That was it and it was all it was. And he’d better remember that.
“Think I could do with a drink. What about you?” Jake quirked a brow.
“Erm, yes please. Wouldn’t say no.” A drink to settle him down, that was exactly what he needed.
Jake disappeared into the kitchen, returning with a bottle of something dark. But that wasn’t all. He was also carrying a wicker hamper and a couple of plates.
“I’d forgotten about this.” He set the hamper down on the coffee table and sat next to Ru. “My neighbour Barbara, who makes the bread, gave this to me. I put it aside and kind of forgot about it.”
Ru looked at the hamper, decorated with ribbons and bows. The way you’d forgotten all about Christmas.
Jake opened it up, and Ru leant forward. His arm bumped against Jake’s and he told himself it was no more than an accident.
“Wow, that looks good. Like one of those fancy hampers you get from posh grocers.” Ru went to pick up a cellophane bag filled with mini mince pies, rustic enough to look appealingly homemade but not quite a mess.
His hand brushed Jake’s, who was reaching for a beribboned box of chocolates.
They both pulled their hands back, as if the touch had burnt.
“Sorry,” Ru muttered. “It’s your hamper, and here’s me diving in head first.”
Jake unpacked the contents, spreading the sweet and savoury items on the coffee table.
Cheese and biscuits. A selection of fancy nuts.
Tiny Christmas puddings, bite sized pieces of stollen, a mini Christmas cake covered in thick layers of marzipan and icing, chunky bars of chocolate stuffed with cranberries, chocolate covered brazils, and a box of squidgy sweet dates.
“God, I haven’t had these since I was a kid. My nan used to love these, but they played havoc with her dentures.” Jake picked up the dates and grinned.
Ru couldn’t help but smile, the memory wiping away the guarded look that so often hung around Jake, making him seem both younger and more at ease.
Jake looked up, catching Ru’s gaze before Ru could look away.
He’d been caught staring, but as the firelight played across Jake’s face, highlighting the firm line of his jaw, casting shadows beneath his cheekbones, and glinting in his auburn hair, he looked like everything Ru quietly yearned for: strong, sure, and steady.
“Quite the feast.” Ru’s voice was loud, bouncing off the walls. But it wasn’t loud enough to drown out the thud of his heart.
“Which you’re going to help me eat. Come on, let’s have that drink we promised ourselves. Sloe gin. It’s good stuff, and sweet on the tongue.”
Sweet on the tongue… Oh, god…
Ru accepted the glass, and hoped Jake didn’t notice the slight tremor in his hand.
The sloe gin was a deep, dark colour that caught the firelight, making it sparkle like rubies. He sipped. Sweet, just as Jake had said, not cloying but rich, with a warming depth that spread through his chest and lower, adding to the heat already building there from Jake’s proximity.
“That’s really good. It’s like summer berries and winter warmth combined.”
Jake nodded, taking his own sip. As he swallowed, Ru found himself watching the movement of his throat. He looked away, not wanting to be caught gawping again.
They shared most of the hamper’s contents, Ru nervily, almost painfully, aware of every movement, every seemingly accidental touch.
The light press of Jake’s knee as he leant forward, their fingers brushing as they both reached for the same mince pie, or chocolate, or morsel of stollen, and the way Jake’s eyes darkened when Ru licked a crumb from his lower lip.
Monty whimpered, and sat up on his hind legs as he begged for cheese, the dog’s antics providing a few moments’ distraction from the tight coil of warm, delicious tension deep in Ru’s stomach. Jake poured more ruby red sloe gin, and Ru closed his eyes as he savoured its warm richness.
Jake’s deep chuckle snapped his eyes open.
“You look very content.”
“I am.” It was the truth, plain and simple, yet it had little to do with the festive feast they’d shared, or the sweet alcohol. Jake was his contentment. “Thank you for this.” Ru gestured around at their decorations. “I know Christmas isn’t your thing anymore.”
“It’s not so bad.” Jake shifted, the movement bringing him even closer, his arm now pressed fully against Ru’s. “It’s different, doing it like this. Nothing gaudy or commercial about it, just simple and natural.”
“That’s the best kind of Christmas.” Ru fought to focus on Jake’s words, despite the distracting heat of the man’s body against his.
“Without all the commercial pressure and forced cheer. Keeping it stripped back and acknowledging the light in the darkness. Like we are here, miles from anywhere with the storm raging outside. All the greenery, showing there’s life not just surviving but thriving in the depth of winter.
Embracing the energy of the darkness whilst waiting for the return of spring, and the rebirth it brings.
” He found himself leaning slightly into Jake’s solid warmth, drawn to him like a plant to sunlight.
Jake studied him with that direct gaze that made Ru’s pulse quicken, that made him feel both exposed and sheltered.
“You sound like you’ve given it some thought.” His voice held a rough quality, like gravel wrapped in velvet, that sent shivers down Ru’s spine.
“Art school. I had a professor who was obsessed with the symbolism of midwinter festivals across cultures. Some of it stuck, I suppose.”
Jake noddded. “The primitive aspects. Light, warmth, shelter against the elements. Connecting with the ancestors and the old gods, seeking their help to ensure survival. It’s what the midwinter rituals and celebrations were all about, before they got bent out of shape by the church.”
“Is that what Christmas means to you?” Ru asked, his voice softer, more intimate than intended.
The corner of Jake’s mouth lifted in that almost-smile Ru found increasingly addictive, that made him want to press his lips to it, to feel if it was as warm as it looked.
“Something like that.”
A sudden harder, more violent gust slammed against the window. Monty, dozing in front of the wood burner, jumped up and barked.
“Storm’s building again. We were lucky we were able to get out when we could.”
“Will we lose power?” Ru asked, finding himself leaning further into Jake’s warmth as if in anticipation of the cold.
Jake tilted his head in that way he did, Ru had noticed before, when he was assessing conditions or risks. “It’s possible, though the generator should cut in if we do. But we’ve got the fire, either way. And plenty of emergency lighting if needed.”
There was a reassurance in his calm assessment that Ru found more than just comforting.
Jake’s competence, his preparedness, his absolute confidence in his ability to handle whatever situation arose, all of it combined into something that made Ru feel safe and protected in a way he’d not experienced before.
His throat thickened and a weight pushed against his chest. Better not get too used to it…
Jake poured them both another drink. Their hands touched again as Jake handed him the refilled glass, the brief contact sending a now-familiar jolt of awareness through Ru’s body.
Did Jake feel it, too, or was it all him, imagining something that maybe existed only in his head?
No. The charged atmosphere between them, the way the air itself seemed to thicken when their eyes met, he knew, in every bone in his body, he was imagining none of it.
“To a different and unexpected Christmas.” Ru raised his glass.
“An unexpected Christmas.”
Their gazes locked in the softly lit room. Ru’s fingers tightened around the glass as Jake set his own down. His breath stilled as Jake leant forward, his skin tingling with the anticipation.
Outside, the storm intensified, battering the old farmhouse. The fairy lights flickered once, twice—and plunged the room into blackness.