Page 23 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

‘I suppose I am,’ she admitted. Would he understand if she told him she was emotionally tired? Mentally wiped? Maybe. But he’d never know how relieved she was to feel safe, to be warm, to know she had a place to stay for the next few weeks. She was also grateful for any money he’d give her for looking after the twins…she just needed to earn enough to survive until Layla repaid her. But would she? She didn’t know. The thought of losing all the money she’d saved terrified her.

Gus dropped his hand. ‘I still, occasionally, see fear in your eyes,’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘You’re safe here, Sutton, I promise. I’m not going to change my mind and kick you out. You can relax.’

Maybe she could. Just a little.

‘After you take the dogs for a walk, can you walk up the road and pop in at the Sunshine Cottage? Will borrowed a charger cable from me and I need it back. And they owe me a bag of coffee.’ Gus seemed to have an innate understanding of when to back off and she sent him a grateful smile, happy he’d changed the subject.

Sutton nodded. If Will and Eli invited her in for coffee, she could kill an hour, maybe two.

‘In between your Christmas adventures with my kids – I think you’re mad, but I would be stupid to say no to your offer – if you need to fill some hours while the kids are at school and if you want to earn some extra money, I could use some help,’ Gus stated, looking thoughtful.

She owed him so Sutton didn’t have to think twice. ‘Sure. When and what do you want me to do?’

‘We have a coachload of tourists coming in to visit the Christmas shop tomorrow, so it will be a crazy morning. I also need to make a lot of calls chasing up loose ends – lighting suppliers, vendors, permits – for the Christmas market. You can do one or the other.’

She wouldn’t mind doing both. ‘I can help out with both.’

He leaned back, his head against the wall. ‘I don’t know how I managed to get myself roped into this,’ he told her, sounding exhausted.

‘How did you?’

Gus took his time replying. ‘About ten months after Kate’s funeral, I joined Moira, my mother-in-law, for dinner at the hall. She invited a few family friends. I was furious – if I’d known she’d invited other people, I would’ve stayed at home. Anyway, during the meal, the Christmas market came up, and it was on hold. It was Kate’s baby, she was organising it and nobody wanted to take it on. Someone, either my mother-in-law or someone else, said it would be wonderful if the market went ahead, to honour Kate. Everyone looked at me, and I felt under fire.’

He was so capable and confident, and she found it hard to imagine him being less than together. But grief, and pain, had a way of ripping a person apart. She’d seen it when her dad and stepdad left, and had a taste of it from Layla recently. ‘So you agreed to organise it?’

He pulled a face. ‘Agreed is the wrong word. They assumed I would do it and the next day Moira handed me a file with Kate’s notes. Kate kept files on everything, the kids, the Christmas shop, the events at the hall, everything. I’m surprised I never found a file on me, detailing my likes, dislikes, how to handle me, my favourite sexual position –shit.’ He looked aghast. His cheeks turned ruddy and Sutton, taking pity on him and a little charmed by his embarrassment, moved their conversation along.

‘So you took over the Christmas market,’ she prompted.

He sucked in a deep breath and managed a quick smile. ‘Yeah, I figured the more I had to do, the less I’d think, the better I’d be.’

He rubbed the back of his neck as waves of tension rolled off him. He was floundering, and Sutton sympathised. She hated talking about her past and she suspected he did too.

‘I’m happy to help you however I can, Gus,’ she told him, keeping it simple. Helping him would make her day go faster, always a good thing. She was in a strange village, she knew no one, and she knew that if she was alone for too long, she’d start brooding about her best friend and her betrayal.

How could they have gone so off track? Had everything they shared been a lie?

‘And there’s some money within the budget to pay for casual labour so I could swing some money for you.’

She wanted to wave his words away, but she was too broke to be generous. ‘Thanks. I appreciate your offer.’ The extra cash would be extremely helpful. ‘I’m pretty broke.’

‘I figured. The lone fiver in your wallet and the bank machine slip showing a balance of thirty-something quid were big clues.’

Sutton threw her hands in the air. ‘How many times did you go through my backpack?’ she asked, pretending to be peeved. She understood why he did it and she didn’t mind, she had nothing to hide.

‘Only once.’ He lifted his eyebrows. His eyes settled on her face and he looked puzzled, and she knew he was still wondering why she was broke and homeless.

Sutton rubbed her throat and stared at a spot past Gus’s right shoulder. Strangely, she found herself wanting to explain, maybe he could make sense of the madness. But the words stuck in her throat, and she shook her head.

Gus lifted his hand and his warm fingers curled around the back of her neck. Sutton, desperate to lean into him, closed her eyes, wishing she could rest in his arms, suck up his strength. He’d have an unsentimental, thoughtful view of what happened, an unemotional take on what was one of the defining situations of her life.

Her eyes landed on his mouth, wishing he’d kiss her. How would he taste? Would his lips skim across her mouth, would she feel it in her toes? Her ovaries perked up, interested.

He’ll do, they insisted. He’ll do nicely. He’d be an excellent distraction and a couple of hours spent in the company of a sexy man would make her feel a lot better. And quickly. He could be a temporary salvation, a way for her to step outside of herself and her memories.

Except…no.She stepped back, and he dropped his hand. He was the owner of the roof over her head, the provider of early morning liquid motivation, also known as coffee and her source of badly needed cash. Yes, he made her feel squirrelly and swirly, but sleeping with him, even kissing him, was stupid. In capitals and italics. She was not a stupid girl.

Tequila aside, she tried not to be.

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