Page 18 of Away With You
“Yes?”
He takes a small step towards me, encroaching on my space, leaning over to say in a low voice. “Please change into another shirt.”
I let out an audible gulp and nod, stumbling back on numb feet to my bedroom, feeling the heat of his stare as I go.
“And expect a delivery sometime tomorrow. You’ll look so much better in navy blue, I’m sure.”
Navy blue. The colours ofRedline Racing. His team. He’s sending me his shirt, and it sounds like he wants me to wear it.Oh boy, my thumpity heart is thumping even harder now. And it’s only going to get worse.
Because in a few minutes, that gorgeous man out there is taking me Christmas tree shopping.
CHAPTER 6
KATIE
Nathan’s car is the opposite of what I’d expected. It’s big and manly, like him, but not flashy. Not a car that screams ‘Look at me! I have lots of money.’ It also smells incredible, and as I sink into my passenger seat, I run my hands over the soft leather seats and take in rapid but discreet breaths. So that I don’t seem like I’m a stalker obsessed with smelling him.
Because I’m not. Much.
“I’ve found a place on the High Street that sells Christmas trees. I googled it, and they have the best reviews. Not that a Christmas tree shop could get bad reviews, you wouldn’t think, but anyway. This one looks good.”
I stare at his profile as he rambles on. Is it possible that he’s nervous? Is that where this verbal diarrhea is coming from?
“Sounds good to me. I mean, as of twenty minutes ago, I wasn’t even planning on getting a tree, so anything we get will be fine.” I clamp my lips shut, pretty sure I’m chattering nervously, just like him.
We sink into silence, both done with banal monologues, and my eyes stay glued to his left hand on the wheel. He’s at completeease in this car, his posture relaxed, his right hand resting on the gear stick. I wouldn’t have thought this before this moment, but a man driving a manual car is sexy. Or perhaps it’s justthisman driving a manual car that has me all tingly. But either way, I don’t hate it.
“Here we are,” he says.
We’ve been driving for a grand total of five minutes and are stopped in front of the cutest Christmas-themed shop I’ve ever seen. It’s quaint, brightly decorated in shades of red and green, and has an outdoor area chocked full of trees the perfect size for a London flat. When Nathan offered to go tree shopping, I’d been concerned about finding one small enough to fit my shoe-box flat, but these trees are miniature and like Goldilocks said, ‘just right.’
“Mistletoe and Pine,” I read the sign out loud.
He reverses into a parking spot out front, not bothering to use his camera to guide him, and as someone with little to no spatial awareness, I’m impressed. Given I was born and raised in London, I’ve never needed or wanted to drive a car. I don’t even have a licence, so watching Nathan do something that looks complicated to me, so easily, has me a little mesmerised. Or again, maybe that’s just him.
“Ready?”
He is out of the car and opening my door before I can blink, extending a hand out to help me out of the car. I accept, ignoring the frisson of electricity shooting up my arm from the brushing of my skin on his, and focus on the task at hand. Nathan was correct in remembering I used to love Christmas. When I was growing up, my mum made it into a whole big thing. We had advent calendars and a blackboard where we counted down the days until Christmas. Every inch of the house and most of the outside was decorated in coloured Christmas-themed cheer. We baked gingerbread biscuits together and would go for walks inthe evenings to check out the neighbourhood lights. She’s what made Christmas special for me, so once she was gone, the holiday lost its appeal.
Until now.
“Any tree catching your eye?” he asks.
We’re standing in the middle of a mini forest, turning in a slow circle to take in all the trees on offer. It’s the second week of December, so we’re not down to the slim pickings or the rejects, but we also don’t have the best of the best. They are long gone by now.
“I’m not sure.” I rub my hand over the pine needles of the tree next to me. It’s only a bit taller than my small-ish height, a little scraggly, and it has some brown patches. The tree looks like it’s been through a lot, and that resonates with me.
Me and this tree? We’re both survivors.
“This one.” I point to the half-dead tree next to me, and Nathan frowns.
“Are you sure? What about this one instead?” He points to one further down the back. It’s a strapping-looking tree, with thick branches and voluminous pine needles. It’s the tree you should want to get if you’re an emotionally stable person without deep-seated issues that flare around the holiday season.
I shake my head, patting my tree. “Nope. This is the one.”
He steps in closer, his distinct manly smell overpowering the scent of pine needles. Instead of tree-shaped car fresheners, they should make one in the shape of him; have his smell lighting up the interiors of cars the world over. Instant best-seller.
“Okay, if you’re sure…?”
