His Mistletoe Proposal. Christy McKellen

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СКАЧАТЬ he’d only just got up. He’d laughed it off at the time but, truth be told, he’d found it virtually impossible to drag himself out of bed today.

      They sat in awkward silence for a moment, both sipping from their nearly empty pints.

      ‘It’s no wonder you’re depressed if you spend all your time in places like this,’ Flora said suddenly in a voice that she’d perhaps meant to be jokey but actually came off as a little officious.

      ‘I’m not depressed,’ he stated firmly, feeling discomfort flood through him.

      ‘Really? Are you sure? From what you’ve told me it sounds like you could be.’

      He sighed in frustration, wishing she’d change the subject. ‘If I need a shrink, I promise you I’ll give one a call.’

      She ignored his pointed sarcasm and waved a hand at him, her movements suspiciously exaggerated. ‘You know, it can be a great help to get out and socialise after ending a relationship.’ She took an audible breath. ‘Perhaps if you went on a couple of dates? It might give your spirits a bit of a lift.’

      He stared at her in disbelief. ‘Are you serious?’

      Fixing him with a cool stare, she said, ‘Totally.’

      ‘Yeah, well, I don’t seem to be having much luck in the dating department at the moment,’ he muttered, his mind spinning back to the way he’d crashed and burned last night when he’d drunkenly attempted to chat up a woman at the bar. Not that his heart had really been in it.

      She seemed to be studying him closely now, her eyes narrowed. ‘Is that how you usually dress when you go out?’ she asked after a beat.

      ‘Yes,’ he replied gruffly, guessing where this was going and trying not to grind his teeth.

      ‘Maybe if you smartened yourself up a bit you’d have more luck.’ She waved her hand at his favourite T-shirt. ‘I always find a new outfit and a haircut does my confidence the world of good.’

      He dug his fingers into his thighs under the table. ‘I happen to like the way I dress.’

      She shot him a patronising smile. ‘Well, I don’t mean to be rude but your clothes look so old I suspect they’re about to get a telegram from the Queen any day now.’

      A heavy pulse had begun to throb in his head. ‘Oh, really? Well, at least they have personality. You look like every other fashion victim on the street.’

      She blinked at him in shock before regaining her composure. ‘At least I made an effort with my appearance today,’ she replied tightly, her words sounding more slurred now. ‘It’s clear you couldn’t care less. You didn’t even turn up on time to meet me, just left me sitting there like a lemon on my own for twenty minutes, only to turn up looking like a vagrant.’

      He leaned forward in his chair, aware of his heart thumping hard against his chest, and matched her fierce gaze. ‘Look, I get it. You feel some misplaced obligation to “take me in hand” and alleviate your guilt about not being there at the end for Amy.’ He pointed a finger at her. ‘But I don’t need another sister figure and I certainly don’t need some uptight do-gooder telling me how to live my life!’

      ‘I’m only trying to help, Alex,’ she snapped back.

      ‘I don’t need your help, Flora.’

      ‘Is that right?’

      ‘Yes!’

      ‘Well, you know what? Since we’re being so honest with each other now, perhaps you should know that Amy really struggled with your arrogant determination to keep everyone at arm’s length,’ she bit out, the increased volume of her voice causing the couple at the next table to turn and stare at them. She seemed to have hit her stride though, so didn’t appear to notice. ‘And it was incredibly frustrating for her that you found everything you did so easy when she had to work so hard for success. Then she had to watch while you just squandered your brain and your talents when she would have killed for them!’ she hissed, her tongue obviously completely loosened now by strong cider and frustration.

      Anger and guilt battled inside him. He was acutely aware of what a risk he’d taken, jacking in his steady job to follow his ambition to be a professional musician, but he didn’t need to be reminded of it right now. ‘I think what you really mean is that a slacker like me should have been the one to die, rather than my hard-working sister,’ he bit out defensively.

      ‘What? No!’ She looked absolutely horrified that he could even suggest that.

      He sighed, feeling his conscience prick, then held up a weary hand in recognition that he’d gone a bit too far with that statement. ‘Okay, okay.’ He took a steadying breath. ‘Actually, I did know she felt like that—we talked about it before she died. But she told me to do what made me happy. She realised there was more to life than selling your soul just so you can wear overpriced designer clothes to eat at overhyped restaurants.’

      Her eyes widened as if his words had hit her right in the solar plexus. ‘So now you’re having a go at me for enjoying the fruits of my success?’

      He sighed in exasperation. ‘No, that’s not what I’m doing.’ A voice in the back of his mind pointed out that it was exactly what he was doing.

      ‘Well, it seems like it to me!’ She took a deep, juddering breath. ‘You know what? I’m going home. I know when I’m wasting my time.’ Picking up her drink, she downed the rest of it, then stood up, wobbling a little on her heels. ‘I was just trying to be friendly, Alex!’ she said in a strangled voice. With that parting shot, she spun on the spot and stormed away from him, only just avoiding stumbling into the wall on her way to the door.

      Alex dropped his head into his hands and cursed under his breath.

      He really shouldn’t have had a go at her like that, but when she’d started her character assassination of him something inside had snapped. He’d had just about enough of women telling him what was wrong with him.

      The look of hurt on Flora’s face had brought him up short though. Clearly she was still struggling to come to terms with his sister’s sudden death and was desperately trying to find a way to give her life some meaning—by attempting to fix his.

      Sighing, he got up from his chair and pulled his coat on. He couldn’t just let her storm off in that state. He at least needed to make sure she got home safely, even if she refused to speak to him again.

      After giving the barmaid a wave of thanks he followed Flora out of the pub. It was cold outside and he pulled his lapels across his throat and folded his arms against the icy wind as he trudged after her lone figure, watching in alarm as she swayed along the pavement, almost bumping into a couple coming the other way. He had no idea where she lived, but he hoped it wasn’t far.

      It wasn’t.

      She turned into the next street along, which housed a row of grand terraces, and strode up to a pillared entrance a few doors down. Fumbling in her handbag, she pulled out a key, which she proceeded to stab at the lock.

      He watched her, half amused, half exasperated, as she failed to get the key into the lock over and over again. Shaking his head, he walked up behind her and took the key from her hand, feeling her jump in surprise at his unexpected presence.

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