Page 32 of Must Love Christmas

Simon watched Garen in the center of the warm room, demonstrating release technique to a group of primary-school kids. “It’s like a handshake,” he told them. “Not too hard, not too soft. And when you let go, I don’t want to see any palms facing up—mind, it’s a handshake, not a low five.”

Luca’s niece, Willow, bounced over to Garen, her strawberry-blond ponytail swaying behind her. “Show them the cup trick!”

“Maybe later, lass. I’ve just eaten.” Garen patted his stomach. “No one wants to see my breakfast spewed all over the carpet.” He got to his feet and scanned the room. When he found Simon, Garen gave a reassuring wave and smile.

Simon returned the gesture, then sipped his coffee, willing it to warm every cell in his body. Better to stay here, he decided, rather than risk a solo ride back to Liverpool. Maybe he’d be fine.

And if the worstdidhappen, he thought as he looked at the warm room full of friendly faces…he wouldn’t really be amongst strangers at all.

* * *

Garen and Lucatidied up from breakfast while Simon and the other new curlers played a four-end game. Garen would’ve preferred to be out on the ice coaching, but it was his and Luca’s turn to clean the kitchen. Besides, they’d not seen each other all week, so there was loads of catching up to do.

“Tell me everything about last Sunday’s glorious victory in Edinburgh,” Garen said. “I’ve not had time to watch the livestream.”

“You really want to hear?” Luca zipped a plastic bag of leftover crumpets. “It won’t make you bitter you missed it?”

“I couldn’t be any more bitter.”Hmm, that didn’t come out right.“I mean, I’m over it.” Garen handed him the white-board marker. “Show me how it went.”

Though he was curious to know the details of Team Riley’s victories, Garen mostly wanted to keep their conversation confined to curling so he wouldn’t accidentally reveal Oliver’s plan to propose to Luca. It was all he could think about every time he laid eyes on his best mate.

Luca went to the board on the kitchen wall and erased a crossed-out note about restocking HP Sauce. “So, it’s the seventh end. We’re down two with hammer. Team Boyd are sitting three with only skips’ stones to throw.” He made a rudimentary sketch of the house’s concentric circles. “We’re the squares and Boyd are the triangles.”

“Got it.” Garen watched as Luca reenacted the pivotal end of last week’s final. He tried not to feel jealous at the description of Ross’s sweep call as “pitch perfect.”

As Luca wrapped up his story, Garen glanced out the kitchen door through the warm-room window to the rink, where Simon was standing on the ice ready to sweep his skip’s throw. He was tapping the toes of one red trainer against the heel of the other, each in turn.

“We should tell guests not to wear running shoes,” Garen told Luca.

“Why? They’re comfortable and secure. They’re the closest thing to a curling shoe.”

“But they’re designed to keep people’s feet cool. They’ve got hundreds of wee holes. On the ice that means cold toes.” He gestured toward Simon. “My flatmate’s been stamping his feet nonstop, poor lad.”

“You’ve been observing him closely, eh?” Luca set the marker back on the white board’s shelf. “I don’t blame you. He’s cute.”

“I know, right?” Garen snatched a slice of fried black pudding from its plate before Luca could put the rest in a storage container. “In fact, we’re dealing with a bit of…” He took a bite of the pudding and spoke through the crunch. “Sexual tension.”

“Of course you are.”

“Thursday after work, he went running in the rain. His shirt got dripping wet, clinging to his pecs and his abs and oh my God…” Garen nearly shivered at the image in his memory. “Also, we may have traded a few naked hand jobs the night we met, when we thought he’d be living elsewhere.”

Luca gaped at him. “The night you met?”

“It seemed a good idea at the time.”

“And now?”

“You know I don’t do regrets,” Garen said.

“I mean, would it be a good idea now?”

“Obviously not. Living together, it’d be completely daft.” Garen took another bite of pudding. “Not even sure he’s interested.”

“He was watching you this morning.”

Oh really?Garen tried to sound casual. “Watching me what?”

“Curl. What else?”

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