Snowflakes on Silver Cove: A festive, feel-good Christmas romance (White Cliff Bay Book 2) (3 page)

‘What about the suit?’

‘You look fantastic, really suave, really sexy, but a tiny bit overdressed for a pint down the Bubble.’

He arched an eyebrow. ‘Sexy, eh?’

She smiled. ‘Yes, if we were going to Royal Ascot together, I’d be proud to have you on my arm.’

‘Right, I’ll remember that next time I get offered free tickets for Royal Ascot. You can be my date.’

‘Definitely, though you should know I’m a terrible loser and a really bad gambler.’

‘I’ll hold the purse strings that day then.’

She nodded. ‘Probably wise.’

‘Shall I try on something else?’

‘Yes, please do.’

‘Good, this collar is killing me.’

‘I’m impressed that you can do up a bow tie though, it’s not something many people can do.’

He took it off to show her it was a clip-on. She laughed, as she closed the door.

She walked back to the computer, her fingers hovering over a rather bland description of the sea. It wasn’t just romance scenes that were taking a battering, all of her latest writing lacked sparkle. Because she had no enthusiasm for the romance, the rest of it hung limp and flaccid on the pages too.

There was another knock on the door just as she was poised to write something descriptive and wintery about the trees that lined the beach.

This time George was dressed in a black suit, with a black shirt and tie.

‘Going to a funeral?’

‘Right, of course,’ he said, looking a little apologetic.

‘How about something that shows your sporty side?’

‘Right, OK.’ He trudged off.

She closed the door again – not that it normally stopped George, but making him knock was all part of the role-play.

She went back to the computer, looked over the last paragraph she had written and sighed.

Another knock on her door. She doubled over with laughter when she opened it.

‘What?’ mumbled George, though she could see that he was trying not to laugh as well. He was dressed in a skin-tight wetsuit which accentuated every gorgeous curve of his strong body, with a mask and snorkel in his mouth and flippers on his feet.

‘George, it’s perfect,’ she said, clapping her hands together, trying really hard to keep her eyes above his waist. ‘Now let me see you manage the stairs in those things.’

He waddled carefully to the foot of the stairs and carefully placed his left flipper sideways on the step. With great effort he managed to put his right flipper sideways on the next one up, looking like a very bizarrely dressed Charlie Chaplin.

It was at this moment, as he struggled to move his left flipper up onto the third stair, that Giselle came running down the stairs towards him.

G
iselle stopped
when she saw George, a shocked expression on her face. He quickly wrenched the snorkel out of his mouth. A thin string of saliva still connected it to his mouth and draped across his face like a rather attractive nose chain.

Libby snorted with laughter as Giselle, obviously deciding that ignoring this was the best tactic, tried to get past him, but the stairs were not quite wide enough to let this happen. George clearly wanted her to be gone almost as quick as she wanted to get away; there was something that actually looked like fear in her eyes. With some effort, he managed to turn sideways, though as his flippers were too long to fit on the steps this way, he had to stick one leg out. It struck Libby, as he held on to the banister with one hand, that he now looked like a scuba diver attempting to perform ballet. She wondered if Giselle would be impressed if he executed a pirouette. With just enough space for her to squeeze past, Giselle quickly ran out the main front door.

He pulled his mask off and looked after her sadly.

‘It’s OK, George,’ Libby said, putting a hand on his arm, ‘this will be something you can laugh about on your first date, it will be one of those funny things you can tell your grandchildren.’ She pulled her sleeve over her hand and gently wiped the saliva off his face.

‘I suppose,’ he said, directing the words at his flippers.

Unable to bear seeing him so humiliated, she took his hand and led him back towards his flat. ‘Come on, why don’t I pick something from your wardrobe?’ He flapped despondently after her and she shuddered with suppressed laughter.

While George got out of his wetsuit, she flicked through his clothes – he certainly had a unique style. There was nothing drab in here apart from the black funeral suit he had tried on moments before. And she liked his style – it matched his personality, loud and colourful. She smiled when she remembered how it had been mainly George’s clothes that had led her to believe he was gay in the first place – a completely wrong stereotype anyway, seeing as most gay men dressed unbelievably well. She concentrated on finding something for him that made him look lovely and endearing.

‘Ah, this shirt is perfect.’ She selected a pale blue long-sleeved shirt, and held it up to George’s chest. ‘Yes, it brings out your tan. Wear it loose over jeans.’ She flicked through his pile of jeans and picked out a dark blue pair. ‘These, they’re smart, and with the shirt you’ll look casual but suave at the same time.’

He took the offending items. ‘Are you sure? Just the shirt and jeans?’

She nodded.

‘Tie?’

‘No.’

‘Right.’

‘And what are you going to say? Ask me out,’ she insisted.

He took a deep breath, closed his eyes for a second. ‘Libby, would you like to go for a drink with me tonight?’

‘Perfect,’ she said. ‘Except for one tiny detail.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Make sure you get the name right.’

He grinned. ‘Yes, of course, Giselle, Giselle, must remember, must remember.’

She looked round his room. It was perfectly tidy – another reason why she had thought he was gay. Perfectly tidy that was, apart from one thing.

‘And you might, if the date gets as far as your bedroom, want to remove Candy.’ She gestured at the mannequin in the corner. ‘She’s a bit freaky.’

‘I can’t get rid of Candy,’ he protested, slinging a protective arm round the mannequin’s shoulders. ‘I’m still waiting for her to change.’

‘Honey, you can wait all your bloody life, she is never going to change into Kim Cattrall from
Mannequin
.’

‘I can hope. Besides, she looks after my ties.’ He gestured towards Candy’s arms, draped in his tie collection, like a very bizarre clothes rack.

‘Anyway, stop trying to distract me. Are you going to ask Giselle out now?’

He sat down and sighed heavily. ‘In a few days, I need to psyche myself up first. I’m not sure how to do the whole dating thing. I don’t know what to do or what to say. I think I need to practise first. Me and Josie never really dated, we were just together and then we were married and now we’re not. The divorce only came through earlier this year, just before you arrived, and well, I haven’t had the heart to date anyone since. Josie put me down, she shattered my self-esteem and I’m only just picking up the pieces.’

She sat down next to him. ‘I hate that she destroyed the confidence you have in yourself – you look at yourself now as if you’re not good enough any more.’

‘For the last two years of our marriage she went elsewhere for sex. I clearly wasn’t good enough for her.’

‘What did you see in her? She sounds vile.’

‘As loath as I am to defend her, we had some really good years. She was a lot of fun when she was younger but so much of that disappeared after we had been married for a few years. I think she grew bored of me.’

‘She was an idiot. Any woman would be lucky to go out with you, exactly as you are. You’re sweet, funny, incredibly sexy. If I wasn’t leaving I’d go out with you in a heartbeat.’

He stared at her. ‘What?’

She swallowed. Where the hell did that come from? She rarely dated, she’d never had someone she could call her boyfriend and she had no desire to either.

Suddenly his phone erupted in his pocket. Fishing it out, he looked at the caller ID. ‘Sorry, it’s my mum.’

‘No worries, I have to get on with some work anyway, send her my love.’

He answered it. ‘Hey Mum, hang on a sec.’ He covered the speaker. ‘Pub tonight?’

She nodded.

‘I’ll see you at six.’

She left him chatting to his mum and headed over to her flat. She needed to make sure George was going to be OK when she left. She couldn’t bear the thought of him being too scared to date anyone, either from the fear of getting hurt again or the fear that he wasn’t good enough. She had to do something to show him how wonderful he was – but how would she change his mindset in just two weeks?

She sat down in front of the computer, staring at the screen with no enthusiasm for writing. She had struggled recently, in the last few months. She had never before had any kind of writer’s block. But she had never thought about staying somewhere before and she wondered somehow if the two were linked. She had lived in some of the most beautiful places in the world but none had sucked her in like White Cliff Bay.

The weird thing was, Libby Joseph had almost been wiped from existence fourteen years before. Eve Loveheart, her pseudonym, had been a character in a little known children’s book, one who had adventures and travelled the world, and at the time it seemed fitting that Libby would assume that identity. She’d even managed to get fake IDs with her new name, assuming that if her dad ever came looking for her she could never be traced. Every place she went she always gave her new name. While her publishers and agent knew her real name, no one else in the world was privy to it.

But on her first day in White Cliff Bay, when she had met George with his friendly eyes and huge smile, she had introduced herself as Libby Joseph without any thought. Maybe it had been the recent news of her dad’s death, maybe it had just been George and subconsciously she had known that she could trust him, but it had been as if a shield had been lifted and she didn’t have to hide any more. For the first time in a very long time, people were allowed to see the real her. It had felt a wonderful relief at the time, but now she wondered if not living behind the façade meant she had lost the character she became when she wrote. The one with sass and all the moves. The one that knew about mind-blowing sex and heart-warming love stories, when really she had no knowledge or experience of any of that. How many times could she write a love story with a happy ending when that had always passed her by?

Although she had been on a few dates over the years, there hadn’t been anyone that had really grabbed her attention and she realised now that part of that was the men had probably dated Eve Loveheart not Libby Joseph. Writing devastatingly sexy heroes who were super romantic had ruined her for men. She wanted what she wrote about in her books and she wasn’t going to settle for anything less. Unfortunately the perfect man didn’t exist. The men she had dated had never held her hand or danced with her, they’d never made love surrounded by candles or in front of a log fire but, most importantly, there had been a complete lack of spark or even any fun. She never stayed anywhere long enough to develop any kind of serious relationships and truth be told she liked it that way. Well, that was until she had come to White Cliff Bay, when an inexplicable ache had settled in her heart. It was something she had never felt before and she was having trouble recognising what it was. Loneliness perhaps, or maybe an affection for the people and the town. A huge part of her wanted to stay to explore these feelings but she had never stayed anywhere before. The thought of staying in White Cliff Bay filled her with fear and joy all at the same time. But now, for the first time, she feared leaving almost as much too. Six months was always her limit before she moved on. She told herself or others it was to do with her work as an author but in reality there was so much more to it than that.

She stared at the story she was currently working on,
The Long Winter
, and flicked through to the bit she had written last. To say it lacked some of her usual sparkle would be an understatement.

She needed some romantic inspiration and right now she had none. She needed to date someone. If she was going to write as Libby Joseph and not Eve Loveheart, then she needed to date someone as Libby too. It didn’t have to be anything serious, just a few dates to get her head back into the romance zone again. It would give her something to write about, the romantic gestures, the little looks.

Suddenly she had an idea and it might actually kill two birds with one stone. She smiled, pushed back from the keyboard and stood up. This could actually be a brilliant idea.

G
eorge’s
front door burst open, just as he’d got out the shower and was standing naked in his bedroom.

‘George! George!’ Libby called, running from his lounge towards his bedroom.

He threw himself across the bed and slammed the door, just as she was about to come in.

‘Bloody hell, George, a second later and you’d have smashed my face in. Do you have a woman in there, is that what you’re hiding?’ She rattled the handle mischievously.

He quickly pulled on some clothes. ‘Yes, we’re having mad passionate sex, go away.’

‘I can’t, I have something brilliant to tell you, could you not stop just for a few minutes? Knowing your sexual prowess I’m sure she could do with a breather.’

He smirked as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and opened the door.

‘OK, Libby Joseph, you have two minutes, but then I have to go back in there and finish what I’ve started.’

‘I’ve had an idea. You should take
me
out on a date.’

His heart leapt. That
would
make sense. She loved talking to him, thought he was funny and sweet. It had only taken her six months to see that they were perfect for each other and now…

‘Then you can practise what you would say to Giselle, what little anecdotes you could use on her to make her laugh. I can give you some advice on the things to do and avoid on a first date. We can help each other out. I need some romantic inspiration for my book and you need to practise dating again before you ask out Giselle. I want to help you – you deserve to have someone wonderful and I will be so happy if I leave here and you’re with Giselle. It can be my goodbye gift to you, get you back into the saddle again.’

He tried to hide the disappointment from his voice. ‘Now, that is an excellent idea. You can be my guinea pig. Wait, does that mean I have to take you to some fancy restaurant?’ He hated fancy restaurants. He never knew what to order, which fork to use first, which glass the red or white wine went in, and felt that the waiters knew as soon as you walked in that you weren’t a regular to such establishments. They would always give you that look, the look you would give a piece of turd when you had accidentally stepped in it.

‘Perhaps you should just take her to the Bubble and Froth,’ she said. ‘It’s your favourite pub, she’d get to know what sort of things you like and you’d be more relaxed. Besides, if you take her somewhere posh it gives her false illusions about what sort of person you are.’ She hesitated. ‘But then again, George, taking her to a restaurant rather than your local
would
show that you’re making a bit of an effort. So maybe a compromise? Oooh, how about that new Indian that’s opened on the far side of White Cliff Bay on the road to Port Cardinal – The Cherry Tree? We could go there. Then it’s not posh, but it’s somewhere a bit special… plus,’ she grinned, cheekily, ‘I really fancy a curry.’

‘OK, sounds good, and then after we can watch
Psycho
. I’ve just got a digitally remastered version of the original.’

‘Ooh, I do love a good thriller. So tomorrow night?’ Libby asked.

George nodded, unable to hide the grin from his face. He was going to take Libby out on a date. His day had suddenly got a lot better.

A
s they walked
to the pub later that night Libby glanced over at George, trying to conceal her smile. He was wearing a green jumper with a huge reindeer face smiling out from the middle of it. He looked ridiculous but somehow utterly adorable. When he found a girlfriend she hoped with all her heart that it would be someone who would appreciate George exactly how he was, stupid jumpers, silly sense of humour and all his wonderful quirks.

He saw her smiling at him. ‘You admiring my jumper?’

‘I love it. It’s so you.’

He smiled and as she looked away over the sea, she felt his hand slip into hers. She looked up at him in confusion, her heart stuttering with this sudden show of affection. They had an incredibly close relationship but it had never progressed to hand-holding before.

‘If we’re dating we probably should…’ He gestured to their entwined hands, a look of mischief on his face.