The Kiss Before Midnight: A Christmas Romance. Sophie Pembroke
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Название: The Kiss Before Midnight: A Christmas Romance
Автор: Sophie Pembroke
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9780008123154
isbn:
“Someone sober enough to pick me up from Lime Street?” Molly asked, without much hope.
“God, no. You’re shit out of luck there, sorry. No, Lara’s here! Wanna talk to her?” He passed the phone over before he could reply.
“Tell me you’re nearly home!” Lara yelled down the phone. “I need my best friend back!”
“Almost,” Molly promised. “Or I would be if I could get someone to pick me up from Lime Street. Are you going to come round tomorrow?”
“Have I ever missed mulled wine and mince pies at your parents’ house on Christmas Eve?” Lara asked, making it clear through her tone that Molly was an idiot for asking.
“Not willingly,” Molly admitted. “Good. I can tell you all about London.”
“Yeah. Great. Here’s Tim.” The phone line went muffled, then crackly, then Tim was back.
“Is she okay?” Molly asked, frowning at her reflection in the window. “She sounded… off.”
“That’ll be the cinnamon flavoured vodka,” Tim guessed. “They’ve got this special offer on tonight. I have to tell you about it—”
“Tim,” Molly interrupted. “I kind of had a reason for calling. The about to be stuck in Lime Street thing? Do you know where Dad is? No one’s answering at home.”
“He’s gone to pick up Dory and whatshisname from Manchester airport. Guess he might be a while if the weather’s bad.”
“Lucas. You know his name is Lucas.” A while, in this case, could mean anything up to a couple of days. Damn it.
“Yeah, whatever. And Mum’s over at Auntie Susan’s at some sort of girls’ party thing. Ann Summers or what have you.”
“It’s a cooking party,” Molly said, finally remembering. “And God, thanks for that image.” She sighed. “Okay, well, if you speak to either of them, tell them I’ll try and get a taxi home, if I can find one in this weather.” She dreaded to think how much it would cost, but she just wanted to get home. It was Christmas, after all.
“No, hang on Moll.” Tim sounded suddenly sober, the big brother swooping in to take care of things again. She should be grateful, Molly knew. After all, hadn’t she called hoping for his help? But the assumption that she couldn’t even be trusted to get a taxi on her own grated.
“It’s fine, Tim. You’ve been drinking, and so has Mum probably.” It was Christmas, after all. Half of Britain was probably plastered. “Dad’s miles away. I can just grab a taxi. It’ll be fine.”
“Just wait a min. I’ll call you back in five.” The phone went dead in her hand. Apparently it was Super Tim to the rescue again.
Fingers still wrapped around her phone, she stared back out of the window. The flakes were bigger, heavier now, like the granddaddies of the little flurries they’d had in London. These snowflakes meant business.
“Well, at least it will be a white Christmas,” she whispered to herself. Dad would be pleased. He always complained that it wasn’t really Christmas without a snowman in the back garden.
She jumped as her phone buzzed, but it was a text, not a call.
Couldn’t get through – are you in a tunnel? Anyway, all sorted. He’ll be there to pick you up at Lime Street when you arrive. See you in the pub! Tx
He? Which he?
Molly felt her breath start to freeze in her lungs as she realised there was only one person Tim would call for a favour like this on Christmas Eve Eve.
Jake Sommers.
Jake ended the phone call with rather more than the required force, cursing hands free technology for the first time in its existence. He’d almost ignored the call from Tim anyway – not because he didn’t want to talk to his best friend, but because he knew Tim was in the pub, probably sloshed, and Jake was going to be there in an hour or so, anyway. What did they need to talk about at this point? They had a whole week of festivities to enjoy together. Himself, Tim and Tim’s family, all pretending that Jake was one of them, even when everyone knew he wasn’t.
He was, as ever, the poor orphan child, given a place out of the snow with mulled wine and mince pies and happy people, for the holidays.
Not that he was complaining – far from it. Without the Mackenzies, he’d have no family at all. He was happy to take what he could get – and grateful that what he’d been able to get was as warm, welcoming and loving as Tim’s family.
But it did come with a sense of obligation – one he suspected was probably entirely in his head. Still, it meant that when Tim called, he answered. And when Tim asked him to pick up his little sister from Lime Street station on a snowy Christmas Eve Eve (as if that were even a real thing) he said yes, no questions asked. Because Molly should be like a little sister to him, too, given everything the family had done for him over the years.
Jake cursed the still falling snow. Because thinking of Molly as a little sister? Practically impossible these days.
He tried. Really he did. In the twelve months since he’d last seen her, he’d listened to Tim and his parents talking about how well she was doing, how her move to London could be the making of her, and all he could think was that she was two hundred miles further away from him now.
He had yet to decide if that were a good thing or not, but he knew his body had very strong feelings on the matter.
His body’s feelings were why he’d been avoiding her. Why he hadn’t even been able to go to her leaving party, making excuses about being away with work instead. Why, whenever he’d been working down in London this year, he’d ignored the scrawled address Tim had given him, tucked in the back of his work folder.
He’d always known that he had an issue with temptation. All the things he knew were a bad idea – one more drink, staying out just a bit later, chasing that girl he knew would break his heart… Jake just wasn’t very good at saying no. As a teenager, he’d spent a lot of time giving in to temptation – especially after his parents died. But, after five years of hard study at university, he hadn’t wanted to jeopardise that during his two years of on the job experience before he qualified as an architect.
So slowly, he’d started resisting. Going home when he’d promised himself he would. Knowing his limits. Turning down the opportunities that looked fun, but he knew would bring more trouble than anything else, in the end.
Which was just as well, really, as it was that year, when he came home for Christmas, that he’d suddenly realised that Molly wasn’t a little girl, or an awkward teen anymore. Away at university herself then, she’d grown into the sort of woman he’d buy a drink in a bar, charm, and take home for the night.
The thought of other men doing that to sweet little Molly Mackenzie made something burn, deep inside him.
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