Just for Christmas - Emily Harvale Page 0,10

Terry the reason why he wanted it to be ready by then. She wondered why he had told her. Perhaps it was because of the misunderstanding. Maybe he wanted her to know he was taken and that she didn’t have a hope in hell of getting as much as a kiss from him, let alone full-on sex.

And she had hoped. Just a little. Oh okay. A lot. She’d had a crush on Chance for years and tonight, for just one brief, magical moment, she thought he was actually saying he felt the same. Or at the very least, that he wanted a holiday fling with her. But nope. That wasn’t what Chance wanted at all. All he wanted from her was her time and her talent for design.

Oh well. That was better than nothing. Wasn’t it? And Chance was an old friend. The least she could do was help him out in his time of need.

Besides, she didn’t really have a choice, did she? If she wanted to keep a roof over Miracle’s head – and she definitely did want that – she’d have to find somewhere else to stay. Chance’s offer was the best she was likely to get.

Asher would probably take her in if she asked him to, but he was expecting his sister and their parents for the holidays. He’d told her that today. His cottage wasn’t exactly huge, especially as his veterinary practice took up part of it, so it wouldn’t be fair to dump herself on his good nature. Although, if the weather continued as it was, his family might not make it.

No. It was mean-spirited to even think those thoughts. Asher deserved a good Christmas. He was such a lovely guy.

And so was Chance. In fact, Chance was more than lovely. Chance was positively gorgeous. Chance was almost god-like. Chance was … a problem.

Could she really stay with him and not be tempted to climb into his bed? Or flirt with him? Or try to get him interested in her?

Of course she could. She was annoyed at herself for thinking otherwise. She was a grown woman in her thirties, not some silly, fifteen-year-old. And she wasn’t so desperate for love that she’d actually try to ‘steal’ another woman’s boyfriend. Even if it had been a couple of years since she’d had a boyfriend of her own.

She simply wasn’t thinking straight right now. Today had been weird in so many ways, what with driving all the way from Bristol and arriving in the snow, saving Miracle, only to discover there was no room in a shelter, and inflicting mayhem and madness on her brother and Sarah one week before Christmas.

She and Miracle would go and stay with Chance. She would ensure his cottage was worthy of the cover of the best house-style magazine. She would give his girlfriend – and soon-to-be fiancée, a dreamlike place to live. She would enjoy a lovely, relaxed Christmas with her brother and Sarah, and she would find Miracle a home before she returned to Bristol in the New Year.

And she would finally get over her childish crush on Chance Warren. He was now taken, once and for all.

There were plenty more fish in the sea. She simply needed to find some new waters to swim in because all she had found up to now, was a lot of frogs.

Five

Wishing Well Cottage wasn’t at all as Molly had imagined.

For one thing, it already looked as if it had won first prize in a home refurbishment competition, and wasn’t even slightly run-down in any way. She knew Chance had been doing it up but for some reason she had assumed that would still be ongoing. She hadn’t expected the pristine, blank canvas she saw when Chance opened the newly-painted, warm-grey, front door and switched on the light in the hall.

For another thing, the place was exactly that: a blank canvas. As Chance led the way she noticed there wasn’t a stick of furniture to be seen, apart from one battered and paint-splattered wooden chair, looking somewhat lost and lonely in the middle of the sitting room.

‘It’s gorgeous, Chance. It really is. I’m truly impressed.’

He beamed at her. ‘Thanks. That means a lot.’

‘Just one tiny question.’

‘Shoot.’

‘Er. Where is the furniture?’

‘There isn’t any.’

‘None at all?’

‘Nope.’

‘None upstairs, either?’

He shook his head and his chestnut hair shone beneath the bare lightbulb hanging above his six-foot frame.

Why didn’t that seem to bother him?

‘Er. Isn’t that a problem?’

‘Yep. But that’s where you come in. I told you.