Page 3 of A Festive Surprise

Chapter Two

Holly

The radio crackled and fizzed as Holly sped along the side of Loch Awe, heading west. Tall mountains capped with snow on either side reflected on the glassy surface. She punched the volume down but didn’t switch it off. A call could come through on the handsfree at any time.

The likelihood of reception was verging on zero but work didn’t stop – no, not even in the car. Her software design client waiting list was out of the building and down the street. Ideas and solutions whirred through her mind. Maybe her next project should be to create AI to drive the car for her while she carried on working.

She rounded a corner and slammed on the brakes. ‘Holy shit!’ An ancient low loader had stopped in front. Its hazard lights flashed orange. Lying in the road between it and Holly’s car was a fully decorated Christmas tree. ‘Seriously?’ She gritted her teeth. Was there no escape from the bloody abomination that was Christmas? Why so early? November was too soon. She squeezed the bridge of her nose and groaned. The next month couldn’t come and go fast enough. Roll on January.

The truck door opened. Holly’s jaw almost hit the immaculately clean floor of her BMW X5. A rotund man in a red suit jumped out and jogged up the road, rosy cheeks beaming and belly waggling.

‘No way,’ said Holly. ‘Just no way.’

With a jolly wave, he picked up the tree, hauled it onto the truck and strapped it down. Holly’s mouth hung open as he trotted back to the cab and pulled off. Had that actually happened? She edged into first gear. Yup. There was the badly attached tree ambling around the twisty loch-side road in front of her. And Santa too. She tapped the wheel. If he moved this slowly come Christmas Eve, there would be a lot of disappointed kids in the world. She could relate.

‘Can we get a move on?’ she muttered. The Isle of Mull called – peace, tranquillity and remoteness. She’d had a fleeting visit earlier in the year for her friend’s wedding. Now, it was exactly the place for an island escape. Georgia and her new husband had a big estate with cottages for rent and Georgia was happy to let Holly stay in one as long as she wanted. Friends like that were the best. The ones you didn’t see often but picked up where you left off when you finally met again. Holly had a lot of friends like that… In fact, all her friends were like that. Some she hadn’t met up with for a crazy long time.

The phone rang. Work. She hit the answer button on the dash. ‘Hello… Yes, Holly Devaney speaking…’ That autopilot needed to get bumped up her priority list, then she could take notes rather than trying to remember everything. She committed as much of the client’s request to memory as possible. New software development projects were her favourites. They sparkled, pulling her attention away from current jobs and she couldn’t help taking on far too much. When she ended the call, the radio flipped back on and the opening notes of ‘Driving Home for Christmas’ tinkled out.

‘Oh, just go away.’ She slammed the volume back down. She wasn’t driving home for Christmas for two reasons. One, she hated Christmas. Two, she didn’t have a home.

∞∞∞

Once she’d boarded the ferry, she found a seat and opened her laptop, typing in details from the call and setting up a new folder of ideas for the client’s software brief. Already inundated with projects, she could easily afford to lay off but work was life and she could handle it. People milled around but she didn’t give them a second glance: her latest project was all she had eyes for. She’d barely started considering the features the clients would need in their app when the call came to get back in the cars. That was an hour? There weren’t enough minutes in the day. She slammed her laptop shut, stowed it in her case and returned to the car.

The clouds above parted as she drove off the ship, leaving a pale, wintery blue sky. She followed the road north. It was imprinted in her brain from her last visit. That visit had been an eye-opener. She spent most of her life in cities and never settled anywhere, living mostly out of a suitcase as she had done since she was a child. What was the point of getting stuck in one place? Big open places like this, surrounded by the sea, were novel and fuelled a raw romanticism. Wow. That was new. Where had that notion come from? Practicality and rationality ruled her world. Mostly.

She passed through a village called Salen, then took a road west that cut across the island through rugged hills and woodland, finally descending into the picturesque village of Dervaig. The sea twinkled beyond.

Not too far around the coast, Holly arrived at the pillared gates of Ardnish Estate.

It was eight years since Holly and Georgia’s uni days. They kept in touch through social media but at the wedding earlier in the year, it had felt like no time at all had gone by. Georgia was still her lovely, wacky self. But, eek, how her situation had changed. Who’d have thought she’d be the one to bag the lord of the manor and live in a place like this? At uni, she and Holly had been the life and soul of every party. Georgia hadn’t let the world spoil her. Holly had grown up, got serious in business and made a career. No regrets. The dull ache in her chest was just from sitting too long.

The main house was stunning. Maybe a tad austere and foreboding, like something from an Agatha Christie adaptation. Georgia and Archie rented it out as an island castle for luxury getaways. No doubt it appealed to lots of wealthy holidaymakers. The house they’d taken for themselves was equally gorgeous, perhaps more so because of its quaint location, tucked away on a rugged shelf at the bottom of a hill. Holly drove towards it, mesmerised by the sea as it crashed in from miles off, spritzing and foaming along the garden wall. Monarch’s Lodge was a house from a fairy tale. Her heart curdled at the flicker of a memory. Once she’d dreamed of living in a place like that with a husband and two point four children, after the big white wedding and the exotic honeymoon. She knew better these days. Travelleritus had kicked in. Those dreams belonged to a different life. She had to find Georgia, get her to lead the way to the cottage, crack open the wine and chill. Simple.

Her foot pressed the brake pedal as she approached. A man in a red checked shirt and Santa hat was chopping wood at the front of the house. Seriously? WTAF? Was this Georgia’s idea of a joke? Was that Archie? Had she sent him out to put on a display? Holly pulled up outside the door. It sat ajar and, Jesus Christ! Inside was a giant Christmas tree. She clung to the wheel, her knuckles whitening. Some crazy parties had gone down at uni. A vision of Georgia shimmying in a paper hat with tinsel around her neck flipped to the top of the memory pile… the finer details were lost to alcohol. Had Georgia always been Christmas crazy or was this a new thing?

Holly held her breath. Ok. Grin and bear it. Once she was in her cottage, she could shut the door and pretend none of it was happening. The beaches and hills were safe. No one could decorate them. Shaking her head, she turned her attention to the wood chopper. Her pulse stopped and a mini firework display kicked off in her chest. That wasn’t Archie. Archie was a good-looking guy, edging to the better side of refined, but this man… Holy crap, this man was a drool-inducing Adonis. Dark curls swept around his forehead and a neatly trimmed beard accentuated his chiselled jaw. His shirt gaped open, displaying a wedge of gloriously golden-brown skin, gleaming with beads of sweat.

Holly rubbed the underside of her chin. Close mouth now. He was heading her way. Uh-oh. He tickled every fancy she’d ever had. No one had ever struck her like this with just one look. No way. If the house was empty, she’d drag him upstairs this minute. Jesus, shit! What was she thinking? Behave. Bloody behave. She pushed open the door and jumped out.

The man detoured towards the house, leaned inside and pulled out a large carrier bag stuffed with brightly coloured fabric. Clothes of some kind?

‘Marhaba… Hello. I have here your elf costume. You can put it on and when it fits… er… ya’ni…’ His eyes skimmed over her and he ran his hand through those lush curls. Holly would happily help. ‘You wear it to Santa’s grotto, yes?’

‘Pardon?’ Forcing her attention out of her imagination, Holly frowned. ‘Why do I need an elf costume? Is this a joke?’ Honestly? Did people want to shove Christmas down her throat and up her backside at the same time?

‘No… I don’t know. Georgia said I give you this and you can wear it.’ He held out the bag.

‘I’m not wearing that.’ Her gaze locked with his. Oh my god. She might collapse. His eyes. How were they so blue? Not just blue but piercing and gorgeous. Elf costume be damned. If he wanted her to wear it, she would. Jeez, she’d do anything for those eyes. She was melting into a pool of liquid caramel and he could mould her into anything he wanted. Lick her up, eat her, literally anything.

He swallowed, rubbing his Adam’s apple, and she blinked, reprimanding her wayward mind and putting herself on a short leash. This had to stop. She was thirty-two, successful and altogether sensible. This guy looked younger and she’d always disliked younger men. Just because. At least older guys had a chance of being more mature. The man lowered the bag and continued to stare.

‘Why does Georgia think I want an elf suit?’ She was the last person on the planet who would put on an elf suit. You wouldn’t get her within ten metres of the ridiculous thing or anything else Christmas related either. Not one single snowflake’s chance in hell of that.

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