Tic-Tac-Mistletoe - N.R. Walker Page 0,16

I wanted him to know about that part of me.

I couldn’t tell you why I wanted him to know, apart from the honesty thing. But why divulge this part of myself to him? A passing stranger who would, in all likelihood, be gone the next day. And it was a secret some guys didn’t take too kindly to hearing. I wasn’t naïve enough to know that it could have ended badly. He could have ranted some homophobic tirade at me and walked out into the snowstorm.

But my heart told me to tell him. I almost couldn’t get the words out, but thankfully it wasn’t like I had to spell it out for him. He got it, because he understood.

Seriously, it was just good to speak to someone who was gay. I wasn’t kidding when I said it had been a long time for me. But talking about things that I couldn’t talk about with anyone, like boyfriends or dating, felt so damn good. Things that didn’t need explaining, things he understood.

That felt like a tiny piece of home.

It made me realise I did miss being part of the LGBTQ community. As much as I loved my life here in Hartbridge, there would always be that part of me here that was missing.

And now that I knew it was missing, I had to wonder what that meant for me. After Hamish was long gone, where did that leave me?

Maybe I could start making an effort. Maybe I could find some groups that met in a nearby town. Bars and clubs weren’t my style, but maybe there was a monthly meet-up or book club or something.

Maybe.

Maybe it was all too hard.

Maybe if Hamish was staying with his sister we could catch up on a weekend every now and then and just talk. It was only a ninety-minute drive.

God, was I that desperate?

The CB radio startled me from scrubbing the sink and I ducked out into the mudroom to grab it. It was Ronny letting me know he’d got hold of the local guys in Mossley and they sent out word to Hamish’s sister. She was very relieved and burst into tears at the news, apparently, but she knew he was alive and he was safe.

I thanked Ronny and turned the radio off, amazed at how stupidly relieved I was for Hamish. He would be so happy to know his sister had been told. I wondered if he was still awake and poked my head into his room. It was dark, obviously, but I could see he was sound asleep. All tucked in warm, breathing deep, and I didn’t have the heart to wake him, so I found my notepad and wrote him a quick note. Given he was asleep before six o’clock, if he woke up at three in the morning, he’d want to know his sister had been told.

Hamish, your sister knows you’re here and that you’re okay. Thought you’d want to know.

I tiptoed into his room and slipped the note onto his phone on the bedside table. He’d see it first thing.

After that, I parked up on the couch with Chutney and settled in for a movie. It had been my sole intention for my three days off—to watch movies and read books—but I found my mind wondering. Not even The First Wives Club could hold my attention.

All I could think about was dark brown eyes, the longest eyelashes I’d ever seen, and a cute-as-hell Australian accent.

So I apologised to Diane Keaton and watched Hugh Jackman in the movie Australia instead.

I woke up, and for a few seconds I’d forgotten there was someone else in the house. I couldn’t hear anyone up, and Chutney was still asleep on my bed, so I assumed Hamish hadn’t surfaced yet.

I’d heard jetlag could really mess some people up, and without knowing if he’d be awake any time soon, I figured I’d just get on with my day. I gave Chutney some breakfast, stoked the fire, and filled the coffee machine before I grabbed a quick shower. I was hoping the noise would wake him, as selfish as that was.

Then I set about making some breakfast. Coffee, toast, eggs, and bacon, and sure enough, the smell brought him out of his room. Or maybe it was me accidently being the noisiest cook on the planet.

He was all sleep rumpled, one eye half-closed, his dark hair was flat on one side, sticking up on the other, and he might have been the cutest thing I’d