Not Another Lonely Christmas Read online

  “For one, you look like you need more than the one drink and secondly, who wouldn’t want to drink with me? I’m amazing company.”

  David slides a short of whisky to my new friend and I’m putting the warm build up in my lower stomach down to the wine I haven’t drunk yet, and not because this delicious guy is sitting here with me.

  “You’re not wrong,” I blurt out for something to say, even though I’m pretty sure the moment has passed. “About needing more than one drink,” I add when he looks confused.

  “Tell me about it, I might be able to help. I’ve been told many times I’m a good listener.”

  He’s forward, and I think I like it, he’s not cocky or patronising with it.

  I go to tell him about the date, and quickly process he doesn’t need to know about the online offer. I can keep it simple. He’s a stranger after all, he doesn’t need to know everything about me like we’ve known each other all our lives.

  “I’ve just been on one of the worst dates in my life and now I’m thinking there might be something wrong with me.”

  His eyes do the whole roaming my body, well, the top half he can see, and he shakes his head.

  “You look perfectly fine to me, what could possibly be wrong with you?”

  Oh god, his voice pulls you in and melts all inhibitions away.

  “I’m starting to think I’m broken inside. I’ve just spent the afternoon and evening in Paris, what’s meant to be one of the most romantic places in the world at what is meant to be regarded as a top-notch restaurant and I felt nothing.” Draining the last half of my wine, I carry on. “Oh, and we flew by private plane. It was nothing special, but it should have been enough to take my breath away. But like I said, I felt nothing and that was before I found out, he only took me there to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.”

  I was right to come for a drink, off loading to this stranger is soothingly making me feel better.

  “Sounds like you were there with the wrong person?”

  Oh god, he’s not wrong. Brody Wright, after tonight, I hope I never hear his name again. I’m sure he’ll be very happy now he has the love of his life by his side.

  “Dinner was bloody awful too, I’m starving,” I laugh, and the rest of the sleaziness flows away from my soul.

  “Bartender!” he calls out for David. “We’ll have another round, and all the chips, um, crisps, whatever you call them here, you have. My new friend needs to forget about Paris.”

  David takes our empty glasses and I manage to grab a decent glance at my new friend while he leans on the bar to point out what flavour crisps he wants.

  His body, under his thick jumper, is slim, and I like the way the material moves as he does. There’s definition in his arms, and again, I like it.

  Oh, fucks sake, stop thinking of that. Most of the guys I’ve been with, I have met in pubs and clubs. Jasper could be no different to them if I wanted but I’m not looking for that in my life anymore.

  “Is that what you usually go for men with money?”

  His insult hits me hard and it takes him only a second to see the impact his question has had.

  “I didn’t mean to offend you, people have types, that’s all.”

  “I don’t have a type, rich or poor. You?”

  If I did have a type, I’m pretty sure it’d be him with a cheery on top. I find myself licking my lips and then bite down on my bottom lip. He’s making me stupid and I don’t bloody know him.

  “I’d have to say funny, strong, brave, daring.” The bar becomes covered in bags of crisps and distracts him for a moment. “She would definitely be able to handle her drink,” he grins, nodding to my newly refilled glass of glorious wine.

  Brave? Strong? Daring? They’re not the normal descriptions one usually mentions. How strange of him. Normally you hear physical traits, always looking for slim, beautiful, big boobs, nice arse, those sorts of descriptions.

  “Are you sure you don’t have a type?”

  I think back to Jacob, he wasn’t my type. Ross wasn’t my type. Brody certainly wasn’t my type. But they all have the fact that I would have slept with them all before I started this mission to be romanced in common. Attention and lust are my type and if you match that criteria, I guess you’re my type.

  “Nope,” I say, lying my arse off.

  I eye the bags of crisps and pick out a bag of sea salted crisps and busy myself eating rather than looking at him.

  “Where are you from?”

  His accent is clearly not British.

  “California,” he says.

  I thought he was American, but I also thought that about someone else and they were Canadian.

  “What are you doing here, so far from home?”

  “I’m here for business but I’m distracted with pleasure.”

  The way he says pleasure has me imagining all sorts and I drain my wine to drown them out. My problem has always been imagining more than what was being offered, but as I sit next to this stranger, I feel more than I’ve ever felt before and I need to get away before I slip into old habits. I only came in for one drink and I’ve had four over a couple of hours.

  “I need to get home, I have…something…I need to go.”

  I need a cold shower, that’s what I need.

  “I’ll walk you home.”

  “You don’t have to do that.”

  Slipping off the stool, my legs wobble and I grab onto the bar rail for help. Whoa. The wine has had the effect I was chasing, and Brody Wright is in the far, far back part of my mind.

  Now we’re both standing, I take his height in and try not to break my neck as he must be six and a half feet.

  I go to put my jacket on, but it’s not there and nor is Jasper. Blinking, I tell myself off for drinking so quickly and then I feel him behind me.

  “Slide your arms in,” he says, and his breath hits my neck. A light shiver runs down my spine and I do as he says.

  A brief pause sits between us and I move away and button up my jacket, just to get some distance from him.

  “It was nice to meet you,” I smile and grab my purse.

  He glances down at his watch and snatches his jacket as I turn around to leave.

  “Seriously, you don’t need to walk me home. I only live three streets away.”

  “And that’s three streets where anything can happen.”

  “Anything could still happen with you at my side, it’s London.”

  A soft laugh bursts from him and he shifts his shoulders and then somehow, he’s a little closer to me.

  “Don’t you think I could protect you?”

  “Please,” I snort. “I know these streets like the back of my hand, I’ve walked them alone for so long I feel like they’re mine to own. If anything, I’d protect you if anything was to happen to us.”

  Bantering with him shouldn’t be so easy, but it is.

  “I’ve never met anyone like you before.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” I mumble and concentrate on my feet hitting the pavement one after the other without falling over.

  “In what way?” he asks, not missing the tone to my voice.

  “Not in the way you’re meaning, I reckon. A lot of people in my life just steer clear because…they just do.”

  I know I’m not making sense, but I’ve said enough tonight. He really doesn’t need to know anything else about me.

  We turn onto my street and the closer we get to my building, the slower our steps become. It’s so weird and yet, whatever is happening feels so right, or is that the wine?

  I’m slowly slipping into old territory and it’s a battle whether to follow my old routines or stick to my guns and keep searching for what I really want.

  “This is me.”

  My building doesn’t look as quirky in the dark, but I don’t care what anyone thinks of it. It’s home.

  “See, it wasn’t so bad letting me walk you home, was it?”

  “I didn’t think it would be,” I smile and then
step back slyly.

  I should not be flirting with this man. I must listen to my head and not the wine ruling my heart, well, ruling my sex drive.

  He steps forward and when I don’t move, he takes it as a good sign and takes another step. I should really move. I should force my feet to walk up the steps and unlock the main door. I should walk through it alone and I should do it all now.

  “I’ve really enjoyed talking to you tonight, I really haven’t met anyone like you.”

  His straight jaw line tenses as he trails his fingers across my cheekbone.

  “Yeah, it was great. Maybe we’ll do it again, if you’re around.”

  Stepping out of his amazing smelling orbit, I take the steps so quickly, I surprise us both.

  “Goodnight, Jasper.”

  After two attempts to get the key in the lock, I let myself in and close the door on him.

  For the first time in my life, I left a guy wanting me, out on the street and didn’t sleep with him.

  Go me! How fucking pathetic.

  Chapter Eleven

  “I must say, Remi. These videos are hilarious, and the men are something else.”

  I focus on the head in front of me and roll my eyes, hoping Gabriella’s mother, Francesca, doesn’t catch it in the reflection of my mirror. Gabs and her mother look very much alike, with their dark hair and olive skin.

  Don’t get me wrong, I love Gab’s mum. She’s a lovely, caring woman and she always thinks of me. But today, I don’t need to hear about that bloody online crap after my date with Brody and then spending time with the mysterious Jasper from the pub.

  “Give her your phone, Rem,” Gabs says, as she works on Mrs Brookes. “Mum, you have to read through some of the offers she’s getting, they are out of this world.”

  I pull my phone out of my back pocket and hand it over to her, if anything, to keep her occupied and for the hundredth time today, I can dwell on the closeness between Jasper and I last night.

  I spent three hours with him, talking, and they whizzed by so fast, but there was something I still can’t put my finger on that has me thinking about him today. Like, where the hell did he come from? I’ve been drinking in the Dark Swan since I was nineteen and I’ve never seen him in there before. I first caught sight of him the other night as I was leaving, and then last night, hopefully I’ll see him again. I want to see him again.

  “Oh my god, this young man wants to take you to a special club he frequents,” Francesca laughs.

  “Special club?” Gabs questions.

  Shaking my head, I press my lips together to keep from showing my amusement and Francesca gasps.

  “You know, one of them sex clubs. Oh my, Remi, darling. He wants to show you who your daddy is.”

  Drawing in a long breath, shock and humiliation burns my cheeks. I swear you could see the glow from space if I stood outside. Gabriella and Mrs Brookes laugh is so loud they can’t control themselves.

  “It does not say that!”

  “It does, look,” she says, coming over to show me.

  Turning my head before I can see the screen, I run the comb through my client’s hair and check what I’ve been doing while I’ve been spacing out. It turns out, I’ve been cutting hair for so long, I can do it while I’m not concentrating.

  “Don’t be so shy, sweetheart, you’re the one who is causing all this kerfuffle.”

  Kerfuffle?

  Wanting to be romanced is hardly causing a kerfuffle.

  “Oh, for the love of god, let me read this guy’s offer,” she continues. “Hi, my name is Rocco and I would love to fly you out to the Bahamas, all expenses paid, I’ll show you just how romantic I can be, you’ll never want to leave.”

  “Wow, that sounds…”

  “Too good to be true?” I add, cutting Gabs off.

  “This is what you wanted, the fucking Bahamas, Rem.”

  I want romance and after leaving the country yesterday, I’m not prepared to do it again. The Bahamas isn’t an hour on the plane like Paris was.

  The shop phone rings and I’m glad for the distraction. Putting my scissors down, I place the comb on the workstation and answer the phone.

  “Hello, Gabriella’s Salon, this is Remi speaking. How may I help you?”

  “Hi, my name is Damien and I’m calling from the Hot Today show. Your video on social media has captured our attention and we would like you to come and share your story this Thursday with Penny and Paul.”

  This has to be a prank call, but who would dream up such a thing? It’s a tad farfetched to make me believe something like this when it isn’t real, however, I need to hear it again.

  “I’m sorry, can you repeat that.”

  Unsure if this is a joke, I put the receiver down and turn on the speakerphone.

  Everyone in the shop quietens and listens to the guy repeat himself.

  “And you’re calling from the Hot Today show?” Gabs cuts in when nothing leaves my mouth.

  “Yes, the show will cover your travel costs and anything else you’ll need. If you agree, would you be free this Thursday?”

  He’s serious and I can’t think straight. In fact, I don’t hear a word he says. Gabriella holds my hand as she comes to stand beside me and takes over on my behalf.

  The spell is broken the moment the call ends and Gab’s arms fling around me, and we end up jumping up and down, well, she does, and my body moves awkwardly against hers.

  “Remi, can you believe this?” she exclaims, pulling away from me.

  “Quite frankly, no,” I mumble around her excitement.

  “We’re going to be on the tv!”

  “We?”

  “Of course, they want to interview us both.”

  That’s not so bad. This time, I jump with her and forget all about my client still waiting for her re-styling to be finished.

  My three next appointments are a haze and I’m glad when I’m finishing up with my last client of the day. She was a simple wash and trim and I was glad for it.

  “We should head to the Dark Swan, have a celebratory drink,” Gabriella suggests, and I agree.

  I head over to the reception desk, so my client can settle up when the doors open and the most muscled guy I’ve seen in real life and not on Instagram walks in.

  “You’re Remi, right?” he asks, taking me in from head to waist, as I’m standing behind the desk.

  I go to say no, when Gabriella magically appears next to me.

  “She sure is, who’s asking?”

  He leans out of the door and puts his fingers to his mouth and lets out an ear-splitting whistle.

  “What’s going on?” I mutter to Gabriella.

  “I have no idea but I’m looking forward to finding out,” she says, fiddling with her phone to record.

  The guy comes back in and puts a sound box on the desk. He finds a song on his phone and then slow sensual music is filling the shop.

  Before I can go to hold Gabs’ hand, he is ushering me to a chair in the middle of the shop, one that wasn’t there a moment ago.

  My last client of the day is sat just as stunned as I am and then the shop is filling up with guys dressed in sweats and vests.

  This must be a dream, a very saucy dream that I swear I’ve dreamt about before. A guy dominating the group comes forward, and his hips are lethal. I hear Gabs losing her mind somewhere near us when vests start to come off and every beat of the music hits their bodies and then ours.

  Every chest I look at while they all dance around me is hard and carved to perfection.

  The guy who stays close to me as the others do their thing to the music, grabs my hand and runs it down his bumpy stomach. I can admire a six-pack but touching his has just repulsed me.

  When he lets me go, I tuck my hands under my legs and keep them there, safe from oily chests.

  The whole time I’m praying the song comes to an early end and this will all be over, but it drags and I’m wondering which version this song is to go on for so long.


  I’m treated to his groin grinding up to me next and I can’t do it, I look away and squeeze my eyes shut. This is so embarrassing and soon enough when Gabriella puts it online, the whole world will see it too.

  The base is dying out but it’s still going on for too long. The guy ends his very well choreographed dance routine and comes face to face with me.

  “Hi, I’m Theo Hughes. It’s nice to meet you,” he pants.

  “Um, hi. I’m Remi.”

  Oh god, he knows who I am. Why do I keep doing that?

  He stands and holds his hand out for me. I take it and I’m swung up on my feet.

  “So, did you like the show? We choreographed it especially for today, for you,” he boasts.

  “Yeah, it was…it…it nearly gave me a heart attack. You definitely surprised me.”

  “But did I sweep you off your feet?”

  He’s not alike the other dates, he’s confident but not arrogant with it, he’s nice but not a suck up. He seems really nice, but still, my feet are firmly planted on the ground.

  “I’m sure many women love your dance, or your act, I’m not sure what you call it, but it wasn’t for me. I’m sorry.”

  Lifting his shoulders, he pulls a hoodie down over his head and his six-pack disappears from my sight.

  “Really?”

  “Really,” I repeat and hope it sinks in.

  One of his friends, or dance partners, whoever, hands him a card and Theo hands it over to me.

  “Well, if I haven’t romanced you and I haven’t won the cash, can you at least spread our name when you post the video. It sure would help us gain more attention.”

  I take the business card and try to count how many naked torsos there are printed across the stiff paper. As Theo and his troupe collect their things, it’s painfully clear to me that the guys I’ve been on dates with haven’t been disappointed because they didn’t woo me, they’re not even that disappointed they didn’t win the money, all they seem to want is the public attention the videos Gabriella records gets them from being posted online.

  “Come on, we need to celebrate scoring an interview on tv, and we definitely need a drink after Theo’s performance with the muscled Gods.”

  I don’t need any persuading to go to the Dark Swan. I agree, a drink is very much needed after today.