Page 84 of Only for Christmas

He climbed off the bed and went to open the curtains, letting in a wintery shaft of sunlight. The sight almost made her groan. Bathed in sunlight, and wearing only his shorts, she was subjected to the full force of Lucas Moore. Tall, wide, smooth. He was too big and too masculine for her dainty room, with its period furniture and satin cushion covers. The sight of him yawning and stretching out his back sent a wave of longing coursing through her and she had to look away. Her resistance had been weakened by recent events and she needed to tread carefully. One false move and she’d be dragging him back to bed. She focused on petting Fred instead.

‘Back soon.’ Lucas left the room and she almost felt the warmth leave with him.

Sarah rubbed her eyes. ‘What am I going to do, Fred?’

Fred tilted his head, his tail thumping against the bedcovers.

In among the images flickering through her mind from last night’s ordeal was a faint recollection of Lucas telling her he loved her. It had been fleeting. A brief comment that had disappeared on the breeze, drowned out by police sirens and traffic noise, to the point where she wondered if she’d imagined it.

Even if she hadn’t, he couldn’t have meant it. It was a throwaway remark. A flippant comment people used without true thought or meaning: See ya. Bye. Love ya. It was something she overheard all the time, especially on the phone. It seemed to be people’s default way of ending a call these days.

There was no point getting in a flap about it, or overthinking its meaning. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Lucas was leaving on Tuesday. Dwelling over an isolated comment he may or may not have said was a waste of time. She had bigger issues to focus on.

Lucas returned with a mug of tea and handed it to her. She tried not to look at his bare chest and held her breath so she wouldn’t breathe in his musky scent.

‘I added sugar. I figured you’d need the energy.’

‘Thanks.’ She appreciated the gesture.

‘There was an envelope pushed under the door,’ he said, waiting until she’d drunk a few mouthfuls before handing it to her. ‘It looks official.’

‘Surely it’s not from the police already,’ she said, placing her mug on the bedside cabinet. ‘We’ve only been home a few hours.’ She tore open the envelope and read the short letter. Her head began to thump as the words sank in. ‘And I didn’t think anything could be worse than last night.’ She handed the letter to Lucas. ‘It’s from the landlord. He knows about Fred. I’ve been given seventy-two hours to rehome him. There’ll be an inspection on Wednesday to ensure he’s gone.’

Fred’s ears pricked up, as if he knew they were talking about him.

Sarah couldn’t face looking at him. ‘I’m guessing this is Stephen’s doing. He certainly knows how to land a blow.’

‘Oh, honey, I’m sorry.’ Lucas sounded genuinely upset.

Whether it was Lucas calling her ‘honey’, or the realisation that her time with Fred was over, she wasn’t sure, but she needed to be alone.

‘Excuse me,’ she said, climbing out of bed and heading into the bathroom.

Turning on the shower taps, she used the sound of the noisy pump to drown out her tears. There was no point trying to hold back. She’d learnt enough about grief to know sometimes you just had to succumb, and she had a lot to be sad about. The Stephen situation, losing Fred, her career being put in jeopardy. Not to mention falling for a man she couldn’t have. That was the real icing on the cake. She’d tried so hard to protect herself from further heartbreak, and it had all been for nothing. Here she was sobbing over the exact thing she’d been so careful to avoid.

She had no idea how long she stood under the shower crying, but it was long enough for the water to have run cold.

Dousing her eyes with eyedrops in an effort to reduce the redness, she wrapped her hair in a towel and fastened her dressing robe. Exiting the steamed-up bathroom, she padded into her bedroom, noticing that Lucas was in her lounge opening curtains and lighting Christmas candles.

‘Let me know when you’re ready and I’ll make a fresh cup of tea. The previous one’s gone cold,’ he said, striking a match. ‘I’ve taken Fred out to do his business, so he’s all sorted.’

‘Er… thanks.’

‘Happy to help.’ He smiled and the ache in her heart pinched a little tighter.

He was dressed in jeans and his green sports hoodie, his hair was damp and his skin fresh. It was as though he’d had twelve hours’ uninterrupted sleep, not a fitful few minutes. He must have gone down to his flat to shower and change.

She closed the bedroom door so she could get dressed in privacy. She was about to unearth her leggings, when she remembered she was off to her brother’s later today to spend Christmas with her family. She chose smart jeans and a red wrap top instead – another purchase from her shopping trip with Harper – adding some much-needed colour to her wardrobe.

‘Very festive,’ Lucas said, as she came into the lounge.

He was smiling, but she suspected he felt as awkward as she did. She hadn’t noticed it before as she’d been too preoccupied with her own troubles, but he wasn’t his usual attentive self. He looked uncomfortable and was keeping his distance. Was he worried about freaking her out after her encounter with Stephen last night? Or maybe he was regretting telling her he loved her? A far more likely scenario. He’d blurted out the words in the heat of the moment. His brain had been distorted from heightened adrenaline and fear, but sanity had returned this morning, and he was retreating at a rapid rate.

A knock on the door startled them both – especially when Fred started barking and raced into the hallway.

‘It won’t be Stephen,’ Lucas said, trying to cover his uncertainty. ‘He wouldn’t be that stupid.’

‘Maybe it’s the landlord checking I received his letter?’

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