It Started With A Kiss. Miranda Dickinson

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ but the sudden arrival of this kind stranger after the utter awfulness of the afternoon felt like a blissful reprieve – as if everything I had experienced was merely instrumental in bringing me to this moment, this meeting.

      Once we had retrieved all of the toys from the wide circle they had been flung to, I turned to the stallholder and apologised again.

      ‘Whatever,’ he shrugged, disappearing inside his wooden stall and slamming the door.

      Spectacle over, the onlookers dispersed back into the crowd and the stranger and I were left alone by the stall.

      ‘Thank you,’ I said.

      ‘You’re welcome,’ he replied, pushing his hands into his coat pockets. I noticed tiny crinkles appearing at the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

      For a moment, we stood in silence, our breath rising in puffs of Christmas-light-washed steam. It was clear that neither of us knew what to say and the awkwardness of the silence brought my earlier humiliation flooding back.

      He’s obviously just being polite, I reasoned, my heart sinking, and now he’s looking for an excuse to leave.

      ‘Well, I’d better …’ I nodded in the direction of the Town Hall behind us, as though this would be some universal indicator of the Christmas shopping I still had to do before I could go home. Thankfully, he seemed to understand, nodding and looking down at his feet.

      ‘Of course.’

      ‘Thanks again.’

      He raised his lovely eyes once again to mine. ‘No problem. Merry Christmas.’

      As I hurried away, I felt like screaming. Not content with merely ruining my friendship with Charlie and making a complete idiot of myself in full view of a large section of city shoppers, I had now embarrassed myself in front of a really good-looking bloke. Nice work, Romily.

      My shoulder was complaining vociferously as I reached into my coat pocket again for the list. At times like this, practicality was the only way forward. I headed towards the white lights of the craft market section. My aunt loves hand-painted glass and I vaguely remembered seeing a glass ornament stall earlier that day. Forcing my conflicting thoughts to the back of my mind, I wove my way through the dawdling shoppers until I found it.

      Two middle-aged ladies wrapped up against the bitter December air were chatting animatedly behind the stall, oblivious to everything else. The voice of Nat King Cole was crooning from the speakers of a small CD player on the counter.

      ‘Gotta love a bit of old Nat, eh?’ the taller of the two was saying.

      ‘Tell me about it. Our Eth won’t listen to anything else at Christmas.’

      ‘Not even Bing or Frank?’

      ‘Nope. It’s Nat or nothing. Him and his chestnuts roasting on an open fire.’

      ‘Always thought that sounded a bit painful myself,’ the taller lady sniggered as the shorter one giggled.

      I relaxed a little as their jovial banter continued, casting my gaze across the glass baubles of all shapes and sizes, suspended on delicate silver thread from white-painted twigs set in plant pots. A gentle breeze had sprung up, making the hanging glass shapes shiver and spin slowly, so that they caught the light from the white fairy lights woven around the stall edge and the coloured strings of Christmas lights swinging high over the market. One particular bauble near the front of the display immediately caught my eye: a large, teardrop-shaped ornament adorned with tiny painted silver stars – delicate brushstrokes that sparkled from the glass surface. It was beautiful, a real work of craftsmanship, and I knew my aunt would adore it. I reached out and felt the icy coolness of the glass against my fingers.

      ‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ a deep voice said behind my right ear, making me jump and only just manage to save the bauble from falling from its twig. Leaving it safely spinning, I turned, my eyes first meeting a green, brown and cream striped scarf and then heading north to reach the shy smile of the stranger who had helped me. My breath caught in the back of my throat and I nodded dumbly at him.

      ‘I’m sorry to … er … I just wanted to check you were OK?’

      ‘I’m fine. Thanks again for helping me.’

      ‘You’re welcome. I couldn’t believe all those people were just watching.’

      I smiled, despite the blush I knew was glowing from my cheeks. ‘I think they thought I was part of the entertainment.’

      ‘Some entertainment,’ he laughed, almost immediately hiding his amusement when he saw my expression. ‘So – you’re OK? I mean, you aren’t hurt or anything?’

      His concern was touching but bearing in mind the afternoon I’d had, the last thing I needed was the pity of a gorgeous man. ‘All good. Nothing broken.’

      ‘Good.’ He stared at me and this time there was something more in his eyes than concern. ‘Look, this is going to sound mental, so I’m just going to say it. I couldn’t let you go without telling you that you’re beautiful. That’s why I followed you here. Please don’t think I’m a psycho or that I do this a lot: I don’t. But you’re beautiful and I think you should know that.’

      Stunned, I opened my mouth to reply, but just then a shout from behind us caused him to turn.

      ‘Mate, we’ve got to go … Now!’

      What happened next was so fast that even now the details remain frustratingly sparse in my mind. But here’s what I know.

      When he turned back to face me, the way he looked at me took my breath away. It was the kind of look you see in movies when a bridegroom turns to see his bride walking towards him for the first time: a heady, overpowering mix of shock, surprise and all-encompassing, heart-stopping love. It was the look that Charlie should have given me when I told him I loved him. But this wasn’t Charlie; and that, in itself, was part of the problem. Because – apart from not being the man to whom I had publicly expressed my undying love not half an hour beforehand – this person was almost perfect: from his wide, honest eyes and shy smile, to the woody scent of his cologne now surrounding me.

      But most of all because of what happened next …

      He took a step back and I could see a battle raging in his eyes as the voice behind him called again, more insistent this time.

      ‘We have to go – come on!’

      ‘One minute,’ he called back, just as a hurrying shopper crashed into his shoulder, momentarily throwing him off balance – and straight into my arms.

      In utter surprise, I held on to him and his strong arms reached round to cradle my back. The shock of it blew all thoughts of Charlie instantly from my mind. Heart racing, I gazed up into his eyes.

      ‘I’m so sorry, I have to go,’ he whispered, his lips inches from mine. ‘But you’re beautiful.’

      And then, he kissed me.

      Although our lips touched for the smallest of moments, it was unlike anything else I’ve experienced. It was the type of kiss you only expect to see in Hollywood films, finally uniting the two leads as the credits start to roll over the delicious tones СКАЧАТЬ