Page 34 of Confessions of a Christmasholic

He raised his hands and mimicked an explosion. Sutton thought it was a perfect explanation.

‘But…’

She knew what he was going to say, she could see it in his eyes. She didn’t need him to explain. ‘But there can’t be anything between us but great sex?’

‘Yeah…that. I’m a single dad with two small kids, I run two businesses, and I have so much on my plate. Even if I wanted a relationship, it’s impossible. Not happening.’

She wasn’t an idiot, she knew a relationship was out of the question.

She had a job to find, and a career to establish. She wanted to be in London and wasn’t interested in living in a small, admittedly pretty village at the arse end of the world. She’d helped raise her siblings, but she wasn’t ready to take on someone else’s kids, as cute as the twins were. ‘Relax. If I did decide to sleep with you, Langston, it would only be for your body.’

He frowned, disconcerted. ‘Sorry?’

She waved at his bed, which was, she noticed, very neatly made, with an aqua bedspread tucked in with hospital corners. His room was functional, minimalistic, and as neat as a pin. Sutton fought the urge to roll around his bed, tugging the bedclothes and tossing his pillows to the floor.

‘I’m just looking for a place to regroup, the chance of earning a little money, a way to get back on my feet. I’m not ready for a serious relationship, either.’

God, between raising her siblings, working and studying, she owed herself the time and space to live life unencumbered, responsible only for herself. She deserved some time to be selfish, to enjoy life on her terms with no reference to anyone but herself. Becoming emotionally attached to Mr Christmas and his four-year-old elves would be a ridiculously stupid move.

She looked at Gus and placed a hand on his chest. ‘I like sex, it’s a fun thing to do. And sex with you would be fun. But I’m scared of adding a layer of complication to what is already a complex situation.’

‘You took the words out of my mouth,’ he said. He leaned his shoulder into the wall and folded his big arms, his expression contemplative. Right, so they were on the same page, reading from the same book. Excellent.

‘So how long do you think we can hold out?’ he asked. ‘I’m betting a week before we crack.’

Aw, shit. He wasn’t wrong. ‘Four days, if you keep looking at me like that.’

But if they didn’t get out of this room, she gave them twenty seconds.

She forced herself to step back, to smile. ‘So…do you want to play Snowman Slam?’

He rubbed his hands over his face. When he dropped them, she noticed his rueful expression. ‘Sure,’ he said. ‘But only if I can use a red pair of socks.’

‘I think I can make that happen,’ she told him. Gus reached behind her to open the door and his hand brushed her hip.Ignore! Ignore!She forced her attention onto what was happening downstairs and heard the distinctive tune of ‘Pink Shoelaces’.

Oh, man, not again! Eli and Will taught her and Moira the TikTok dance craze earlier and Rosie was now obsessed with learning the routine too. She heard Felix groan, and grinned as she walked down the stairs.

‘Daddy!’

Sutton saw Rosie standing at the bottom of the steps, her elf hat over one eye and one ear. Thank God it was Rosie and not one of the adults who saw them walking down the staircase together or they’d immediately suss what they’d been up to. ‘Daddy! Come and do the Pink Shoelaces dance with me!’ Rosie demanded, running up the stairs to grab Gus by the hand.

He threw Sutton an anxious look. ‘Thewhat?’

She laughed. ‘Don’t stress, Eli will show you the moves.’

‘Moves? What moves? I don’t have moves!’ Gus complained as Rosie led him into the kitchen, Sutton laughing as she followed.

ChapterEight

‘Istill don’t know where we are going or what we are doing.’

Gus reversed down the driveway, smiling at the whine in Sutton’s voice. They’d eaten, and instead of sending the kids up for a bath, he’d taken them into the hall and started dressing them in their cold-weather clothes. He told Sutton to do the same, but she’d baulked, saying it was too cold, why leave the warm house, was he mad?

Eventually, she pulled on another jersey, and her boots, and pushed her arms through her new coat. As he did for the kids, he wrapped a scarf around her neck and jammed a beanie on her bright head.

Tonight was Conningworth’s, or Will and Eli’s, version of mumming and, for the first time in ten years, he looked forward to walking through the streets, watching friends entertain the village. There wouldn’t be any battles between St George and the Dragon, no skits, no Turkish Knight or Clever Legs…

Actually, what Will and Eli did had nothing in common with mumming apart from it being a way to entertain the village at Christmas time. Entertainment was, after all, what they did best.

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