Page 82 of The Twelve Dates of Christmas
“Don’t worry about it.” Richard laughed. Then he leaned in closerto Kate again. She could smell his cologne. He was looking straight at her. “I’m not interested in talking about my ex-wife,” he said quietly. “I want to know more about your past sexual encounters.”
He was so close to her now that his lips brushed hers as he spoke.
“Tell me what you like, Miss Turner,” he breathed. “Tell me what makes you scream.”
•••••
It was still dark when Kate got up at five a.m. and set back to work. Her head spun lightly but not unpleasantly, with a dash of hangover and a heavy dose of last night’s memories: Richard’s mouth on hers, the taste of him, the feel of him pressed up against her, the cold hard of a tree at her back and the hot hard of Richard to her front.
He hadn’t booked a room—more’s the pity—and eventually the subzero temperature of the forest had enforced a literal cooling of their ardor, so that the evening ended on warm terms but minus consummation. In some ways Kate was pleased not to have had sex with Richard yet. What was her hurry? She always bowled into things without thinking and ultimately ended up single again. It was good to wait. It was good for her to wait.
Kate washed the brush out and blew on the red-painted toadstool to quicken its drying. She wanted to get the winter fabric designs ready to submit for approval today. The spring designs were already neatly stacked in her portfolio.
By seven forty-five a.m. the sun was just beginning to rise and the gray morning light spilled in through the kitchen windows. It hadn’t snowed overnight but a thin dusting began to fall now, the flakes lightly scratching at the windows. Kate made herself another coffee and two rounds of hot buttery toast and ate them standing by the French doors.A robin nibbled at the bird feeder and the sky looked low enough to bang your head on.
She’d just finished when Patrick knocked at the door with her car keys, her Mini safely restored to its spot outside the front gate. Kate thanked him and paid him cash.
“Evelyn tells me you’re out on a date in London tonight,” he said.
Honest to goodness!Kate thought.Even the farmer knows about my love life.But she smiled and said, “Yes, I am.”
“You’re not thinking of taking that, are you?” he asked, motioning with his head to her Mini.
“Not a chance,” said Kate. “I don’t think the old girl would make it in the snow.”
“Well, I’m taking Evelyn up to Covent Garden market tonight to pick up a load of fresh Christmas trees,” said Patrick. “So, if you finish late and you fancy a lift home, give us a call.”
“Thanks, Patrick,” said Kate. “I might just take you up on that.”
By ten a.m. Kate was packed up and ready to go. She was taking a small pull-along case so that she could fit in her portfolio and a change of clothes for her date tonight; she could change at work. If she caught the half eleven train, she could be in the office by one o’clock and work until she needed to be at the restaurant by seven p.m.
She carried the case through Potters Copse, as the ground was too uneven to wheel it. The trend for decorating the trees in the copse had caught on and it didn’t end with the trees. The hedgerows and brambles were dripping with baubles, and even the tree stumps were wound round with fairy lights. She determined to press Evelyn again about rerouting the caroling through this way.
Kate stopped in at the Pear Tree for a takeaway coffee, and Matt insisted on driving her to the station in his 4×4.
“There is no way you’re going to get down that hill, in the ice, with a suitcase, and not fall arse over tit,” he said.
Kate conceded that he was probably right.
“I need to go to the cash-and-carry anyway,” he said. They left Carla and Petula holding the fort.
“So how is work going?” Matt asked.
“Good, thanks,” said Kate. “I’ve got the first batch of spring designs ready and a last-minute winter one ready to submit.”
“I’d like to see them sometime,” said Matt. “I feel like I’ve been so busy recently, I haven’t seen your work for ages.”
“Well,” said Kate. “It’s good that the café’s doing so well. And fabric’s not greatly interesting to you, is it.”
“I’m always interested in what you do,” said Matt. He seemed strangely offended. “You’re really talented, Kate. I’ve always admired your work.”
Kate was a little taken aback.
“Oh,” she said. “Thank you.” She changed the subject. “How’s Sarah?”
“She’s great!” said Matt. “She’s so busy with work at the moment, but the schools break up soon, so she’ll be around a lot more.”
“That’ll be nice.”
