Just for Christmas - Emily Harvale Page 0,19

she’d done that. But it was too late to take it back.

Thankfully, Vicky seemed pleased, and as Chance was smiling at them both as if he approved, no harm was done.

But Molly would have to be careful. She was forgetting the reason she was here. And she kept forgetting Chance was as good as engaged, even though she tried to remind herself every fifteen seconds.

‘Oh,’ she said, suddenly stopping at the door and turning to face Chance. ‘I can’t believe I haven’t asked, but what’s your girlfriend’s favourite colour?’

Chance blinked a few times and frowned, casting his eyes down towards the table. A second or two later he shook his head and met Molly’s look.

‘Er. I have absolutely no idea. I’ll call her today and ask.’

Molly hesitated for a moment, before nodding and dashing off, calling out a final goodbye as she grabbed her coat from the hall, even before she had called Sarah.

Ten

Chance cursed under his breath as he tramped through the snow, virtually dragging two reluctant dogs behind him.

What the hell was the matter with him? Ever since he’d seen Molly at Terry’s house last night, he’d been behaving like a teenager with a crush.

It must be because he was tired. Exhausted, in fact. He’d been working on the cottage almost non-stop, between spending time with his mum and worrying endlessly about her. He needed a rest.

Perhaps it was because he was missing Jolene.

Except he wasn’t.

He did think about her from time to time, mainly after she had called him for a chat, or after they had Face Timed, but other than that, he rarely thought of her.

That was a bit worrying, wasn’t it? Shouldn’t you be constantly thinking about the woman you loved? The woman you were about to propose to. The woman you’d be spending the rest of your life with.

But what was even more worrying was the fact that when Molly had described her vision for the kitchen this morning, it was her he had pictured sitting on a stool at the end of that island while he poured them glasses of wine and the pendant lights lit up the hints of red in her golden apricot hair and the flecks of green in her beautiful, hazel eyes.

He entered Easterhill Park, part of the Easterhill Estate that was left to the town by the former owners. The Easterhill Estate had been huge and in addition to this park there was also an air club and a small air strip just outside of the town. Lord Easterhill had a bit of a penchant for planes but when he and his wife died, leaving no heirs, they left the airstrip and the planes to the town of Easterhill and it was turned into an air club, open to anyone and everyone who lived in Easterhill or the nearby Seahorse Harbour.

The modest stately home of Easterhill was sold to a developer and in addition to converting that into a luxury hotel and equally luxurious spa, he eventually managed to obtain permission to use part of the grounds for a golf club. So now the grounds of the Estate were divided between that and the air club and this part of the grounds formed the public Easterhill Park.

Chance let Beauty and Miracle off their leads. The snow here was pristine. They were clearly the first to venture into the park, which was a bit surprising for a Saturday morning, especially as it was almost ten o’clock. But the heavy snowfall had no doubt kept many in the warmth of their homes, probably sitting by the fire with a mug of hot chocolate, or a cup of coffee.

‘Shit!’

He cursed out loud. Why did he have to think about coffee? Now all he could picture was the glimpse he’d had of Molly’s breast when her PJs had popped open that morning. And the feel of her silken skin as his hand had brushed against it.

He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

Worse still, when she’d spoken of her vision for the bedroom, and lying on that bed looking up at the stars, it was Molly he’d seen lying naked beside him beneath the duvet. Not Jolene.

What would Molly look like naked?

What would it feel like to kiss her and run his hands all over…?

This was bad.

This was serious.

This was stupid.

‘Stop it, you utter jerk.’

‘I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?’

An elderly woman stood a few feet away, a shocked expression on her kind-looking but wrinkled face. He hadn’t noticed her