Page 61 of The Secret Mistletoe Promise
‘Imogen?’ he prompted.
‘I don’t want to hurt Lucy,’ she blurted. ‘Or you.’
‘Why would you hurt us?’
Whoooosh.
Someone skated past Imogen, fast and far too close, and she jolted sideways, catching the end of her blade in the ice. Dexter grabbed her waist and slid so he was in front of her, facing the wrong way. They came to a juddering halt.
‘We’re in the way,’ she said, and he tugged her to the edge of the rink. He stood so his back was against one of the foam posts, and she stopped in front of him, her skates bracketing his.
‘Why would you hurt us?’ he asked again.
‘Because I don’t know what I’m doing. I came here to escape, to hide, but I’ve found a whole lot more than a hidey-hole.’
‘Ahidey-hole?’ His lips twitched.
‘Shush. I’m being serious.’
‘I know you are. And I know that Mistingham isn’t your home, and that you’re still figuring out what you want, but Imogen …’ Dexter ran his thumb gently along her cheekbone. Her face was cold and his leather glove was warm, but she wanted it gone: she wanted his skin against hers. ‘I have spent a long time putting Lucy first, and I will always,alwaysdo that, but for the first time in ages, I have met someone who I want to spend time with, who is worthhaving those difficult conversations with my daughter, and she likes you too.’
Imogen opened her mouth to speak, but he kept going.
‘One of the conversations will be about how things aren’t always for ever, and how that doesn’t have to be a bad thing; that good things can be temporary, too.’ He shook his head. ‘What I’m trying to say is, you can’t hurt us if we go into this with our eyes open. I will look after Lucy, I’ll always protect her, but I would never forgive myself if I let you go back to London without kissing you again.’
Imogen’s nose tingled. She leaned into him; let him wrap his arms around her waist and pull her close. ‘Oh.’
‘Does that help?’
‘Yes, I think so.’
‘Good.’ He brushed his lips over hers. ‘You look amazing on skates.’
She laughed, the sound breathless as he brought his mouth to hers again. ‘I don’t, I—’
‘You’re always amazing, Imogen.’
Then the teasing was over, and so was the talking, and despite their incredibly public location, Imogen let herself be kissed, thoroughly and completely, by Dexter, and she returned it with all the enthusiasm, all the longing, she held inside her. The way he’d said it;you’re always amazing, Imogen, she recognized the reverence, the weight of his words. They spoke of something deeper than fun, and flirting, andtemporary. She’d been feeling the same thing for a while, now; the way Dexter crowded her thoughts and made her breath hitch and had her smiling even when she wasn’t with him. She should be ecstatic that he felt it too, but it scared her.
Dexter slid his hand into her hair, and she gripped his shoulders, and they kissed like teenagers at the winter fair, high on candyfloss. When they finally broke apart, breathless and dizzy, Dexter’s eyes shining brighter than the fairy lights draped overhead, they were met with wolf whistles and applause, and Imogen turned in his arms to find Lucy grinning up at them, her hands clasped in front of her, like the happiest angel on top of the Christmas tree.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘Why aren’t we rehearsing in Mistingham Manor?’
Valerie asked as Imogen stepped into the village hall, reluctant to take her coat off because the cold was everywhere, now. ‘How are we meant to hear each other with that racket outside?’ The old woman gestured to the ice rink just beyond the window, with its festive soundtrack, the whoosh of skates and excited squeals.
‘It’s not that loud,’ Jazz said, which was what Imogen had been thinking.
‘It’s our little four-leaf clover,’ Fiona said, beaming. ‘Come in, Imogen.’
‘Sorry I’m late.’ She’d got distracted helping Birdie make one of her medicinal concoctions, something herby and spicy that would probably end up in a tincture bottle and get passed around the village.
‘Is anyone going to answer me?’ Valerie crossed her arms, and Imogen edged around the hall to where Dexter was standing.
‘Hey,’ he murmured.
‘Hi.’ It was fine that she was grinning idiotically, because so was he.
