Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘Listen, about last night…’

‘Don’t worry about it,’ I interrupted ‘You wanted the engagement ring, didn’t you? I’ll just go and get it.’

‘Okay, but Rachel…’

I walked past him out of the kitchen and went upstairs.

‘Rachel, I want to apologise…’ he said, following me. ‘I know you’re angry with me.’

‘No, I’m not.’ I went into my bedroom and picked up the jewellery box from my dressing table.

‘You are. I know you are, and that’s perfectly understandable. I should have told you straight away that I was investigating Patrick.’

‘Why didn’t you?’

‘Because I wanted to make sure you were telling the truth about not being with him any more. I wanted to hear what you had to say about him without thinking it was some kind of police interview.’

‘It was, though, wasn’t it?’ I looked at him accusingly. ‘That’s exactly what it was: a police interview.’

‘Well, not really.’ He scratched his neck awkwardly.

I shook my head. ‘It would have saved a lot of bother to just ask me down to the police station to interview me there. I mean, I wouldn’t have thrown myself at you for a start.’

He tutted and looked down at the carpet. ‘You didn’t throw yourself at me. Don’t be silly.’

‘Silly? Yes, I suppose that sums me up nicely, doesn’t it?’ I snapped, thrusting the black-velvet box containing the engagement ring into his hand.

‘No, don’t say that. I didn’t mean it like that!’ he said, following me back out of the room and down the stairs. ‘I just meant… listen, Rachel…’ He caught my arm and turned me to look at him. ‘I really enjoyed your company last night and I’m more than a little disappointed you’re still part of this investigation. I would have loved to get to know you better.’

I looked away, unwilling to trust him.

‘Rachel, please… I’m sorry.’ He let go of my arm and sighed. ‘I know I haven’t behaved in the best possible way. If you want to make a formal complaint, I’ll completely understand.’

‘I don’t want to make a complaint. I’m not that vindictive.’

‘You’d be within your rights to do so.’

‘They know anyway, don’t they? I thought you’d told them this morning?’

He winced slightly. ‘Well, I err, kind of left out the bit where I kissed you.’

‘Technically, I kissed you first,’ I said, then promptly wanted to kick myself for reminding him. I closed my eyes and pushed a hand through my hair, digging my fingers into my scalp. ‘Look, let’s just forget last night happened, shall we? I don’t want it to be awkward between us and I’m sure you’re…’

The warm pressure of his lips on mine cut off the rest of my sentence and made my eyes flicker open. Butterflies swarmed in my belly.

‘Now we’re even,’ he said, his voice husky. He kept his head bent close to mine, our noses almost touching. ‘I wasn’t exactly fighting you off last night, was I? I’m pretty sure I did my fair share of kissing you too. How about we find Patrick so I can take you on a proper date?’

I looked up at him through my lashes, my heart thumping. My instinct was to grab him and kiss him passionately, but I didn’t completely trust that this wasn’t another trap. He seemed like a perfect gentleman, but I couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t be laughing about this tomorrow with his colleagues. I’d already proved myself to be a gullible fool where Patrick was concerned. I didn’t need to do it again with the detective who was investigating him.

‘Anyway,’ he said, clearing his throat and backing away a little. ‘I’ll probably see you tomorrow. Will you have made that list of dates and places by then?’

‘Yes, I should have.’ I followed him to the front door, knees slightly wobbly from the kiss.

‘Great!’ He turned and smiled. ‘Goodnight, Rachel.’

‘Goodnight.’

I watched him walk down the dark path to his car. Rain slanted sideways in the glow of the streetlamp, and he pulled up his collar as a gust of wind shook the bushes at the side of my garden. I told myself I was watching him leave out of politeness, but I couldn’t take my eyes off him as he unlocked his car door and climbed inside. He raised his hand and I shut the door, pressing my back to it and touching my lips, which still tingled from his kiss. Oh God, what was happening to me? What was I doing? I felt like a hormonal teenager with a raging crush. This wasn’t like me at all.

Chapter Four (#ubfd5aa5b-d344-5dcd-a87b-360f986167ef)

‘So you’ve had to make a list of all the places you went with Patrick?’ Bobbi said as she arranged a bouquet of pink roses and cream stocks. ‘I bet that didn’t make you feel very happy, did it?’

‘Not really, but what’s done is done.’ I tapped a pen on the order pad and stared out of the window at the drizzly rain. It was only just after lunchtime, but the cars driving past already had their headlights on. My mood was as gloomy as the weather.

‘I’m really rather proud I’m the only one who got to meet Patrick,’ Bobbi went on, wrapping a cream ribbon around the base of the stems.

‘Only briefly. You didn’t even speak to him, did you?’

‘I know, but I still got to see him. Your mum was so jealous, do you remember?’

I grunted, feeling guilty again. Patrick had caused a lot of resentment between me and my parents. ‘When was that, anyway? It was quite early on, wasn’t it? Back last winter?’

‘Yes, January, I think. It was really cold and rainy, and I’d already left to get my bus, but I’d forgotten my bag so I had to come back. He’d parked his big, posh car outside the shop and was holding an umbrella over your head as you locked up. I remember thinking it looked really romantic, like something off one of those old-fashioned romantic postcards.’

I scowled, not wanting to remember details like that. Better to remember him as a selfish bastard who never turned up or called than a romantic hero, protecting me from the rain. All the same, memories of that night bombarded my brain, with Patrick being at his most charming and funny. We’d eaten dinner at a country pub a few miles away and then he’d stayed at mine until Sunday afternoon. It was only one of a handful of times we’d spent the whole weekend together. Usually he’d have to leave the day after, or even the same night on one occasion. I pulled the piece of paper I’d noted down the dates on from my pocket to check it was on the list. The date was there but the details of where we’d been were missing. The trouble was, I’d spent the last few months trying to forget him, so wilfully remembering every detail and writing them down in chronological order was quite an effort. With a sigh, I noted down where we’d been and the fact he’d stayed all weekend.

‘If I tell Anthony I met him, do you think he’d take me for dinner, too?’ Bobbi asked.

I laughed. ‘You could give it a try. He’s a bit old for you, though.’

‘Oh yeah, he’s way too old for me. What is he, like, forty or something?’

‘He’s thirty-five, I think.’

‘He’s not too old for you then?’

‘No, but I’m part of the investigation, depressingly enough, so even if we wanted to be together, which we don’t,’ I lied, ‘we couldn’t anyway.’

Bobbi looked at me in surprise. ‘But you do want to be with him, don’t you?’

I thought about last night’s kiss and tried to remember my reasons for not wanting to be with him. I’d give myself a stern talking to last night, after he left. He’d already mislead to gain information about Patrick and I needed to protect myself. ‘Not since I found out he lied to me.’

‘He didn’t really lie, did he? He told you he was a detective.’

‘Yes, but he left out the bit about how he was investigating my ex-boyfriend and then proceeded to ask me questions about him.’

‘That’s quite clever, though, isn’t it? Because then he’d be able to gauge how you felt about the police and if you had any idea Patrick was up to no good.’