Chapter 30
In the end, Marc didn’t leave Lauren’s table and join his brother and friends; once he started talking to Lauren, he found the conversation flowed as easily as the honeyed notes of the cider they were both drinking.
Mindful that he’d need to get back to his boys by ten o’clock, he switched after one pint of Carter’s Gold to the just as palatable Zero version of their cider, and by the time the hands on the pub clock were edging past nine forty-five, he felt a great reluctance to end the evening.
‘This has been lovely,’ he said as he finished his pint, ‘but I promised Thea that Cora would be back home at a reasonable hour, so I’d better make a move.’ He went to stand up, and as he did, his knees knocked against Lauren’s again. ‘Sorry,’ he murmured, his face growing warm.
Lauren stood, too. ‘I’ve really enjoyed talking to you.’ She fumbled with her bag, which she’d stashed under the table. ‘Would you, er, like to do it again, sometime?’
‘I’d like that a lot,’ Marc replied. He moved out of the way so that she could get past him without bashing into the table.
As she did so, her body brushed up against him, and a sudden bolt of desire took him by surprise.
It had been so long since he’d reacted that way to anyone.
He tried to shrug it off. He mustn’t read too much into this, precisely because it had been so long.
‘Er, can I give you a lift home?’
Lauren laughed. ‘You can literally see my house from the pub!’
‘Oh yeah.’ Marc blushed. ‘Can I walk you home, then?’
‘I’d like that.’
They wandered out of the front door, waving goodbye to Noah’s group, and Paddy and Jen, who were still busy behind the bar, and the cold December air contrasted sharply with the warm atmosphere of the pub.
Above them the stars that Lower Brambleton was so famous for shone pin-bright in the deep blue night sky.
Marc glanced up at the cloudlessly vast expanse above them and let out a low whistle.
‘We certainly didn’t get night skies like this where we used to live. That’s another thing to be thankful for.’
‘It makes up for the dreariness of winter!’ Lauren replied.
‘Sometimes you can’t see the hills for the mist.’ Somerset was renowned for its ‘mizzle’, that odd combination of mist and rain that blanketed the landscape in the cooler months.
It could make Lower Brambleton feel even more remote and cut off than it already did, when it descended.
But tonight, the sky was clear, and the only mist was their breath as they walked from the pub back to Lauren’s place.
Twinkling fairy lights in the shop windows gave the main street a festive glow, and as they drew closer to Lauren’s front door, Marc’s hand brushed hers. This time, there was a definite jolt.
‘Well, this is me,’ Lauren said, and Marc heard the nervous tremor in her voice. ‘Thank you for walking me home.’
‘My pleasure.’ God, it had been so long since he’d done anything like this. The hand that had brushed Lauren’s started to shake. ‘See you again soon?’
‘I’d like that.’ Lauren turned away from him and fumbled in her bag for the key. With a tumbling clink, it fell from her grasp and hit the stone step outside the front door.
‘Bugger,’ Marc heard her mutter.
‘Let me,’ he said quickly, ducking down to pick it up. Unfortunately, just as he did so, Lauren, who was quicker, straightened up, catching his right eye with the top of her head.
‘Oh shit!’ she exclaimed. ‘I’m so sorry! Are you all right?’
Marc shook his head to clear the stars from his vision. ‘I’m fine.’ His right eye started to water, and he brushed it impatiently.
‘Come in, quickly. I’ll get some ice.’
‘Honestly, it’ll be fine,’ Marc protested, but he wondered if he was going to be safe to drive back to the lake house. His eye was already starting to throb.
‘Don’t be daft – it won’t take a sec.’ Crisis, or embarrassment, seemed to make Lauren more assertive, and she hurried through the front door, calling over her shoulder to him as she went. ‘Go into the living room – it’s first on the left – I’ll sort the ice.’
Feeling as though he had little choice in the matter, and despite the throbbing headache, Marc did as he was told.
It was only a quarter to ten; he had a few minutes to spare before he needed to be home.
He sank onto the squashy, patchwork-patterned sofa and tried to focus on his surroundings.
All around the walls were paintings, some large, some smaller, but all in the same distinctive style.
He wondered if they were Lauren’s work, or she had an artist she particularly admired.
‘Here you go.’ Lauren handed him a tea towel full of ice cubes. ‘This should help.’ He gingerly placed it onto his rapidly swelling eye.
‘My kids are going to think I got into a bar brawl!’ he quipped.
‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry.’ Lauren wrung her hands, clearly still embarrassed and upset. ‘Now you’re going to have a right shiner in the Christmas Day photos.’ The soft Lancashire accent that Marc had noticed during their conversations rose to the fore when she was emotional.
Marc gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘It was an accident, Lauren. Don’t worry about it. I’ve had worse – I’ve got two brothers, remember?’
‘I’ll get you some paracetamol.’ Lauren dashed back to the kitchen and returned a minute later with some tablets and a glass of water. Marc, whose head really was aching now, accepted them gratefully.
‘It’s all right,’ Marc said, when he’d taken the tablets. ‘I’m not going to pass out, I promise.’
‘I hope not!’ Lauren sat down gingerly on the sofa beside him. ‘Can you see out of your eye all right? Will you be able to drive?’
Marc nodded. ‘I’ll be fine. The swelling’s not too bad, and I don’t feel dizzy.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I’d better get off in a minute – I’ve got the babysitter to relieve.’
‘What a way to start Christmas.’ Lauren shook her head.
Marc knew Lauren, with her tendency to worry, would spend far longer brooding on this than he would.
He didn’t want her to ruin her own Christmas Day by overthinking things.
‘It’s all right, Lauren, I promise. Don’t give it another thought.
’ He turned towards her and, before he could think twice, he reached out a hand and touched her cheek, tacitly asking her to look at him.
Her face felt warm under his fingertips, and her skin was soft.
Kissable lips weren’t too far away. Maybe it was the effect of the knock on the head, but for the first time this evening, he wasn’t feeling awkward or nervous.
‘Do you know what I think would really help me to feel better?’ he asked softly.
‘What?’
‘If you’d let me kiss you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I was trying to pluck up the courage while I was walking you back, but then you thwacked me in the eye, and that made up my mind.’
Lauren’s brow wrinkled. ‘About what?’
‘That anyone who can deliver a blow like that definitely needs to be asked before I’d even attempt to give them a kiss!’
Lauren giggled. ‘Well, when you put it like that… but you know I didn’t mean to hit you, right?’
Her tendency to have to clarify and double-check things was both infuriating and adorable.
Marc took a breath and moved closer. He was relieved, as he closed his eyes and his lips met hers, that not only did she kiss him back, but that the only dizziness he felt was from excitement.
The kiss, sweet, gentle, tentative, only lasted a few seconds, but when they broke apart again, they were both smiling.
‘See?’ he said softly. ‘No harm done.’
A ping from the alarm on Marc’s phone brought them both back to reality. ‘I’d better go,’ he said. ‘But I’d love to do that again sometime.’
‘I’d love it, too.’ Lauren stood up and Marc followed, a respectable distance between their heads this time. ‘Are you sure you’re all right to drive?’
‘I’m fine, I promise.’
As she walked him to the door, Marc hesitated, even though he knew he needed to get a move on. ‘I had a great time tonight. Thank you.’
‘Me too.’ Lauren’s smile would keep him warm in the chilly air, he knew.
As he walked back to retrieve his car from the pub, Marc felt a lightness he hadn’t experienced in a very long time. This was a start, a tentative one, but it felt right. And he was sure it wasn’t just Christmas Eve magic that had affected him.