Page 57 of Snowflakes at the Little Christmas Tree Farm
I lean over and press my lips gently to his. My long hair falls across his face, surrounding him, and his hand comes up and tangles in it, pulling it back and using the grip on it to tug me closer as the kiss deepens. He sits up straighter and pulls me tighter against him without breaking the connection between us, urging me over until I’m straddling his lap, my knees pressing into the wooden bench on either side of his thighs. Both my hands are so tangled in his thick hair that I might never get them out, one of his is still holding my hair aside, the other is curled into my jacket like he can’t hold on tight enough, his fingers rubbing my back where they touch, constantly pulling me closer than it’s possible to get. I know my whimpers of pleasure are mixing with his moans as we kiss for what seems like ever.
I’m panting by the time we pull back, and he releases his hand from my hair so it falls in a messy curtain around us again, caging us in as I lean my forehead against his and we both try to get our breath back.
I untangle my hands from his hair, fully expecting to come away with a few handfuls given how tightly I’ve been holding it. I go back to stroking it gently, unwilling to remove my hands from him or move from where I’m still straddling his legs. His hands are running up and down my back, his fingers gentle but his wrists are pressing tight, holding me there.
‘I bet a sleigh has never been used for this sort of thing before,’ he murmurs.
‘Oh, I don’t know. Santa and Mrs Claus must have feelings too. Certain … desires … that they feel the urge to act upon. When the reindeer aren’t looking.’
He lets out such a burst of laughter that it reverberates through me too. ‘Ooh, yeah, can you imagine kissing Santa? I bet there are crusty bits of mince pie in his beard and sticky chunks of half-sucked candy cane …’
‘You can’t say that about Santa!’ I kiss him again to shut him up. ‘He smells of sugarplums and washes his beard with the sparkly tears of elves every day.’
‘He probably bathes in reindeer droppings. That’s why no one’s ever seen him – because the stench makes everyone’s eyes water so much that they’re blinded whenever he approaches.’
You’d think it would be hard to laugh and kiss at the same time, but somehow we manage it, and when we pull back to pant for breath this time, I force myself to shift off his lap before this doesn’t end at kissing. Even so, Ilovethe noise of disappointment he makes, and the way his hand clamps onto my thigh, like he can somehow hold onto me for a little longer.
I sink down on the bench, the whole side of my body pressing against his, and he lifts an arm and drops it around me with a heavy thud, tugging me into his side. I drop my head onto his shoulder, feeling lighter than I have in months. Everything feels sorighthere, whether it’s Noel or Peppermint Branches or Scotland in general, or just having a completely fresh start away from the rut I was in back in London.
‘What are you thinking about?’ he asks when we’ve both got our breath back.
‘About fate. About the auction. About my mum and dad and you, and if there was some external influence driving me to win that auction because I was somehow supposed to come here.’
He presses a kiss to my forehead, which makes me melt so much that I nearly slide off the wooden bench. His arm tightens around me and his head dips down to rest against mine.
‘I can’t describe the fog of grief I’ve been living in for the past two years, and the way you talked about it, the way you normalised it and made me feel understood … Having someone that I’m not afraid to talk to makes so much difference. Everything feels different. I love it here. And I’d have run away that first night if you hadn’t found me and made me stay.’
‘Nah, you wouldn’t. You had to stay just to prove how much of a twat I was on that first day.’ He shifts his head and looks down at me. ‘That was my plan all along, you know.’
I reach over and rub along the fraying seam of his butter-soft jeans that are so worn and faded they look like they could fall off at any moment. Andthere’sa thought for another day.
‘You gave me something back too, you know.’ He reaches over with his other arm and lifts my hand, his fingers playing with mine.
‘A second job that you don’t get paid for?’ I ask, because he’s been helping me outsomuch.
‘My heart.’
I try to look up at him but he doesn’t budge so I can’t make eye contact.
‘I’ve been dead for ten years.’
I almost laugh at the deadpan tone in his voice. ‘Well, you’re looking remarkably good on it. Sexiest zombie I’ve ever seen. Do brains taste nice?’
He bursts out laughing again. ‘See? I laugh now. I didn’t laugh before. And I know people around here will tell you that I’m pleasant and friendly and I help them out where I can, but all of my interactions have been superficial. Every time I give them a smile, it’s surface only, inside I’ve felt nothing. I always picture my heart as cold, dark, and hard, like a lump of coal, and the only thing that’s made it glow again in the last few years was getting Gizmo, and then you came along and made me laugh about drunken trees and something lit up inside me.’
‘When did you get him?’ I ask, mainly to distract myself because the idea that I could make anyone’s heart glow when I’ve felt so cold and detached for the past couple of years is making me feel so fluttery and overheated that I might actually be in danger of throwing up, passing out, or both. And that’s reallynotthe way to end this amazing night, with this amazing man who makes something inside of me glow too.
‘I didn’t get Gizmo, Gizmo got me. He picked me out as his new dad the moment we saw each other. Evergreene always donated a tree to the nearest animal shelter, and I went to deliver it. Walked into reception and one of the volunteers was about to take this little Chihuahua out for a walk. I had the tree over my shoulder so she stopped to let me through the door, and he ran over and put his paws up on my leg. It was love at first sight.’ He’s getting choked up as he speaks. ‘I hadnointention of getting a dog, and if I had then it would’ve been a working farm dog, not a toy handbag dog. I used to laugh at little dogs like him walking along the road in their jumpers and coats. But the moment I saw him, I dropped the tree and picked him up, and there was never a moment of doubt that he was coming home with me. I made the woman wait while I registered and reserved him and then went out for the walk with them, and honestly, I was in tears most of the way. It was this wave of emotion that I never thought I’d be capable of feeling again. That was seven years ago and he still makes my life better every day.’
There’s something about a man who isn’t afraid to admit how much he loves his dog that makes him seem like a genuinely good person. And completely irresistible. I squeeze his hand and move until I can get my lips somewhere near his, but I just end up smashing my mouth against the side of his face, halfway between his eye and ear.
He laughs and moves until we can kiss properly again. Time fades away to his mouth, the occasional extra sensation of the cold silver of his lip piercing, his stubble, his hands, how good he makes me feel, and I quickly realise we could sit here all night, completely lost in kissing, and we’ll both regret it when the alarm goes off tomorrow morning.
It must come across in my body language because he pulls back with a reluctant noise. ‘Why do I know what you’re thinking?’
‘Because you helped me stack all those trees on the driveway earlier and you know as well as I do that they’ve got to be loaded into the back of your truck at silly o’clock in the morning, and you’ve got a competition to win, and I care about you too much to not let you get any sleep tonight.’
He sinks back against the bench and lets out a groan. ‘You think I cansleepafter that?’
