One More for Christmas(46)

“Phone call?” He stepped closer to her, his broad shoulders protecting her from the worst of the wind and the curious gaze of her family. “Oh, you mean that phone call.”

“I thought you were—”

“Someone else. I gathered that.” There was a gleam in his eyes. “Do you ever get the person you actually want to speak to on the phone?”

She probably should have laughed, but right now she couldn’t handle teasing.

“Those things I said—again, I can only apologize.”

“For wanting good sex?” There was a hint of color on his cheekbones. “That doesn’t seem to me like something you should apologize for.”

Her face was probably redder than his.

It was all so unprofessional, but she’d beat herself up about that later. Right now she had more pressing reasons to apologize.

“I’m so sorry for mentioning your father. For not knowing.”

“I like talking about him. Keeps him alive.” He held the door open for her and she climbed in next to him.

He wiped the snow from his glasses and glanced in his mirror. “Everyone doing okay back there?”

She was glad he hadn’t asked her, because she definitely wasn’t doing okay.

It might have been easier had she not had such a clear recollection of all the things she’d said to him.

I want to have a love affair so passionate that I forget to go to work,

I want to sneak off in my lunch break and buy sexy lingerie,

I want to drink champagne naked in bed.

“We’re great,” Ella said, and Brodie gave a nod and drove away from the airport.

The car was warm and the roads empty.

“Is it always this quiet?”

“No, although I doubt it’s ever as busy as the place you’ve come from.” He drove steadily, his headlights cutting through the swirl of snow. “They’re forecasting heavy snow tonight, so plenty of folks have made the decision to stay home.”

On the floor of the car by her feet was a discarded newspaper, open to the business pages. Tucked into the pocket of the door was a dog lead and a book. She tilted her head to try and see the title. A biography of someone she hadn’t heard of.

“Have you always lived up here?”

“Me?” He glanced at her. “No. I was working in London, but after we lost Dad I came back here to help my mother and my sister.”

She looked at the snow-dusted fields, and the mountains beyond.

This place had to be a shock to the system after London, surely?

Behind her Tab woke up, sleepy and disorientated. “Is it Christmas yet?”

“Not yet.” Ella pulled Tab’s wool hat down over her ears to keep her warm. “But soon.”

“What if Santa doesn’t know we’re not at home? He might leave all our presents in the wrong place.”

Samantha glanced nervously at her mother, waiting for her to inform her granddaughter that Santa didn’t exist, but Gayle didn’t appear to be listening. Or maybe she was trying very, very hard not to say the wrong thing.

Ella tucked the blanket round her daughter. “He’s going to know you’re staying here.”

“How will he know?”

“He just will.”

“Will there be a Christmas tree where we’re staying?”

“We are surrounded by Christmas trees.” Brodie kept his eyes on the road, but he was smiling. “Do you like Christmas trees?”

“They’re my very favorite thing.”

“Good, because so far we have five in the house, but there are thousands in the forest, some of them hundreds of years old.”

“Five?” Tab almost bounced out of her seat. “Five trees in your house?”

“Five. We need another one for the library, but I thought you might like to help with that.”

“You mean help decorate it?”

“I mean help me choose one from the forest.”

“I can choose it? An actual tree growing in the forest? Can we go now?”

“It will be dark by the time we get home. Tomorrow you’ll probably be tired. Maybe the day after? We’ll find a tree and see the reindeer.”

“Reindeer?”

Brodie nodded. “We have our own small herd. They like the climate up here.”

“Do they fly?”

Samantha tensed and waited for him to fluff his response.

He took his time. “Can’t say I’ve ever seen them fly,” he said finally, “but that doesn’t mean they don’t.”

Good answer, Samantha thought, and Tab seemed to agree.

“Look, Tab, there’s snow on the mountains.” While Ella pointed out the scenery to her daughter, Samantha glanced at her mother. Her lack of response to the Christmas conversation was surprising. Or maybe she knew that the one sure way of killing this reconciliation dead from the beginning was to expose the myth of Santa.

Gayle was staring out the window. She was slightly hunched in her seat and she’d wrapped her arms around her upper body as if she was protecting herself.

Had she found the journey stressful? Was she regretting joining them? Was she dismayed by how remote it was?

Samantha realized how little she knew about her mother other than her business achievements. The McIntyres of Kinleven were obviously a close family. What would they make of the fragmented, dysfunctional group who were their guests?