Chapter 5
My reluctance to find out what Haley has in store for us today makes me last to join the group—again.
Not that it’s hard to be late in a house with five lounges; I managed to wander into two wrong ones first. By the time I finally stumble into the right room, coffee in hand, they’re all waiting, and I immediately regret dragging my feet.
Two of my long-legged bandmates, Garrett and Ollie, have taken over the couch, their man-spreading leaving no room for me.
The three bridesmaids sit opposite them, all sipping coffee from mismatched holiday mugs.
Rachel catches my eye over the rim of her cup, blue eyes dancing.
The promise of trouble within them makes me want to whip that cup out of her hand and drag her back down to the stables for a roll in the hay.
One look from her is enough to push aside my sulkiness at the lack of seating opposite or beside her. I flash her a smile, and take my place in a large buttoned leather armchair. At least here I can watch her without everyone noticing. She’s the only view I’m interested in today.
“Great, now we can get started.” Haley stands at the front of the room like a conductor poised to unleash the Salvation Army Band in a rendition of ‘O Come All Ye Faithful’.
Her smug smile makes me instantly wary. Last year she made Christian dress up as Santa.
Who the hell knows what she’s planning this time—elves in tights, maybe?
Christian hovers at her shoulder, with that loved-up look in his eyes. He’s always one hundred percent behind his fiancée, so there’s no way he’ll talk her down from whatever crazy scheme she has planned for us.
Their three dogs—practically their children, and sporting Christmas pyjamas as if they are—sprawl on the rug at their feet. A symphony of canine snoring vibrates the room. Loreena sits at the table behind them, eyes sparkling like a kid who’s just spied Santa’s boot disappearing up the chimney.
“Soooo…” Haley rubs her hands expectantly, her mouth curving up in a knowing smile. “I decided, as you’re all here—what are we waiting for? We may as well start the games today.”
Rachel looks at me and rolls her eyes. Haley might be her friend, but I can see it’s the only reason she’s indulging her—that and Haley’s also the bride. Which makes her the boss.
“Games?” I ask, setting my Santa mug on a coaster. “What sort of games?”
“The sort where you compete,” Christian says. “And someone wins.”
There’s a spark in Rachel’s eyes, quick and fierce, and I know exactly what it means—she loves the chase, the contest, the thrill of victory.
She’s the kind who turns even a board game into a battle.
I’m not that guy. Not normally. But if the game is about winning her?
That’s one I’m already playing. And after this morning, I think she knows I don’t intend to lose.
“Five days.” Haley holds up her hand. “Five games. Five Christmas-themed games created by Loreena.”
I groan inwardly. With Haley and Loreena in charge, of course it’s Christmas games. Not that I’ve got anything against Christmas. It holds some of my happiest childhood memories.
My father drifted in and out of our lives, spending months away from us at a time.
Sometimes he was on tour; at other times I preferred not to know where he was, or who he was with.
But he was always home for Christmas. Images flash through my head.
Him at the piano, us gathered around singing.
A normal family, even though we weren’t most of the time.
So yeah, I’m no Grinch. I can get in the Christmas spirit, but after a day in this house where it looks like someone spewed holiday cheer in every corner, I think I’ve had enough to last me a while.
“And what do we win?” Ollie calls to his sister. “A trip to Santa’s workshop? I’ve always wanted to see the North Pole.”
I’m surprised he hasn’t already. When he’s not with the band, Ollie loves to travel to weird places.
“A chance to turn on the Oxford Street lights this year?” Garett suggests with a grin at his wife. “Liv would be up for that.”
“No, they’re already on, love,” Liv says.“I’m betting it’s something like a year’s supply of Christmas cake. Or a limitless coffee card, only valid for peppermint mocha.”
“Wrong on all counts,” Haley says. “You’ll be trying to win something for someone else, not yourselves.” She and Loreena exchange satisfied smiles. “Loreena and Tommy support a lot of charities, especially at this time of year.”
I know that’s true. Last year they helped Haley and Christian’s favourite dog rescue score a hundred grand.
Then there’s the vet scholarship they set up with Haley as the first to benefit.
And now they’re the driving force, and the money, behind a pet refuge for families fleeing bad situations with their animals.
It’s already going up in the old gamekeeper’s cottage on the estate.
I respect that. People who use their good fortune to lift others, not just themselves.
“You must complete all five games. At the end, the pair with the most points wins a ￡20,000 donation to a charity of their choice. You and your partner can decide on the charity.” Haley pauses, as if daring us to look around and claim one.
“Partner?” I ask as my eyes meet Rachel’s. I’m already silently pleading for her to choose me. I’m sure I catch a spark of interest. Or I might just be trying to will it into existence.
“You’ll work in the same pairs as the wedding party: me and Christian, Liv and Garrett, Sam and Ollie, you and Rachel.”
I could kiss Haley for her perfect organisation—although Christian might deck me for that. He’s so damn protective of her. I fight the urge to leap onto my seat in celebration and fist-pump the air. These games have suddenly become a lot more attractive.
Haley waves at Loreena. “Judging duties fall to Loreena and Tommy.”
“Totally impartial,” Loreena grins. “Even the bride and groom can’t sway us.”
“Not open to bribes either.” Tommy Bunt cackles as he wheels in a trolley with four large boxes stacked on it. He places a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “So don’t bother trying it on, yeah?”
I like this guy with his raspy East End accent and designer trainers. Although he owns this mansion, he looks as out of place in it as the rest of us. He hefts the mysterious boxes onto the table.
“It’s nine-forty-five now.” Haley glances at an enormous clock on the wall and, right on command, it chimes a tune—the first bars of ‘Good King Wenceslas’—and a little nutcracker soldier appears, salutes and disappears back behind a door.
“Meet with your partner and decide on your charity. I’ll see you back here in fifteen minutes, and Loreena will explain the first game. ”
We all file out, the other three couples already with heads nestled together in conversation. While I’m buzzed that I’ll get to spend enforced time with Rachel every day for the next five days, we’re at a disadvantage in this competition. The others have a solid track record of working together.
Garrett and Liv met in high school and have been married for over ten years.
Christian and Haley’s relationship survived a difficult start with the whole world looking on.
A year later, anyone can see why they’re making vows for life.
Sam and Ollie have been friends since they were kids.
All Rachel and I have to build on is a bit of flirting and this morning’s horse ride.
There’s no guarantee we’ll make a winning team.
I’ll do my best, but it feels like Rachel may have been saddled with the guy least likely to win as her partner.
Apart from being the band member with the most groupies chasing me, I’ve never been number one at anything.
Last in my family by four years, I was an unplanned afterthought, the result of one of those times when Mum and Dad were together for a while.
Being the only son could mean something, but it doesn’t in my family.
My sisters had already claimed all the medals, all the attention, and what was left for me was being everyone’s kid brother. Loved, sure, but never the star.
And much as I love my bandmates, in subtle ways they let me know I’m the one with the least to contribute.
Just the drummer, even though I know—if I ever grew a backbone—I could offer so much more.
The rare times I’ve hinted I had lyrics, or a melody tucked away, the moment’s passed without anyone picking up on it, and the one time I half-joked about lead vocals, it got laughed off before I could say I was serious.
I should’ve pushed harder. That one’s on me, I suppose.
But the rest? No, I’m just the guy who keeps the band in the headlines. My love life—not that there’s any love involved—splashed across social media. That one’s on me, too.
Rachel oozes competence and confidence, like she was born with an instruction manual for life.
I’m not sure what these Christmas games involve, but there’s a nagging voice in my head reminding me of all the ways I could screw this up.
The thought of letting her down twists something in my chest, which is ridiculous considering I’ve had less than a day to consider the possibility of her as more than a teammate in some stupid contest. I may not have what it takes to win the prize Haley’s offering. Or to win Rachel’s interest, either.
Rachel strides down the hallway, her long legs painted in dark denim, the curve of her arse a feast for my greedy eyes.
Her hair, freed of this morning’s braid, spirals in golden waves halfway down her back.
It hints at something wild and untamed inside this otherwise perfectly-groomed woman.
The smell of her perfume wafts through the air as she moves, decadent sweetness and spice mingling in something that smacks of expensive.