Meet Me Under the Mistletoe Read online

  It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas at the little flower shop…

  Florist Rachel Jones might spend every day making beautiful bridal bouquets at her little flower shop, but her own love life is wilting as quickly as a bunch of dead roses.

  Luckily, the arrival of handsome detective Anthony Bascombe, the new tenant upstairs is the perfect distraction! Although there’s a catch, Anthony isn’t looking for love – he’s looking for her ex-fiancé, Patrick…

  But as the snow begins to fall and her little shop fills with mistletoe ready for Christmas, will Rachel manage to melt Anthony’s heart?

  Fans of Debbie Johnson, Holly Martin and Christie Barlow will love this heartwarming read from the bestselling author of Marry Me Tomorrow.

  Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

  Carla Burgess

  ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

  Contents

  Cover

  Blurb

  Title Page

  Author Bio

  Acknowledgements

  Dedication

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt

  Endpages

  Copyright

  CARLA BURGESS

  was born in Solihull and now lives in Chester with her husband, three children, dog and bearded dragon. Her love of books was sparked when she borrowed Ghost Ship to Ganymede by Robert Swindells from her primary school library and devoured it in one night. It was just after this that she started writing her own stories and inflicting them on family and friends. She began her working life as an editor on a trade magazine where she dreamed of writing about romance instead of tubing, but still felt privileged to be working with words. She has a degree in English literature and psychology, and loves animals, the countryside and the sea. Carla’s debut novel, Marry Me Tomorrow, released in 2016, became a bestseller. For more information about Carla, you can follow her on Twitter @MsBear123 and on Facebook at www.facebook.com/carlaburgesswriter/

  A big thank you to my lovely editor Charlotte Mursell and the HQ Digital team for all of their hard work in the making of this book.

  Thank you to my family for putting up with me during the writing of this book, and also to all my lovely author friends who are always on hand with advice and support.

  For Ian, Isobel, Tom and Cassie – with love.

  Chapter One

  Anthony Bascombe walked into my life one Thursday afternoon in the middle of November. The bell above the door tinkled violently and a gust of wind accompanied him into the shop, making the flowers quiver in their buckets and the fairy lights shiver on the shelves. The shifting air carried the scent of his aftershave as it lifted my hair from my shoulders, and I had to place a hand on the sheets of wrapping paper on the counter to stop them flying away.

  ‘Sorry!’ he said, shutting the door behind him quickly. ‘It’s a bit blustery out there.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ I laughed and tried to ignore the fizz of attraction that surged through my veins as he smiled across at me. All kinds of customers came into my flower shop, including plenty of attractive men buying gifts for their loved ones, but it wasn’t often that they were dressed so well or had such lovely, twinkly blue eyes. He wore a beautifully cut navy suit and his short, dark-blond hair was styled into a neat little quiff at the front. Self-consciously, I smoothed down my flowery tea dress and tried to remember if I’d applied my winged eyeliner straight this morning. ‘How can I help you? Are you looking for anything in particular?’

  ‘I’m looking for you, actually,’ he said, still smiling as he walked towards me. ‘If you’re Rachel Jones, that is?’

  ‘Oh! Yes, that’s me. What can I do for you?’ I cleared my throat, mortified that my voice had gone all squeaky when his was so pleasantly deep.

  ‘I just came in to introduce myself. My name’s Anthony Bascombe.’ He extended a hand to shake. ‘I’m the new tenant in the apartment upstairs. I believe your parents are my new landlords.’

  ‘Oh!’ I gazed at him wide-eyed, delighted that I was going to be seeing him around a lot. He had such a lovely warm smile; it lit up his whole face. I couldn’t take my eyes off him. ‘Of course! You moved in on Sunday, didn’t you? I was wondering when we’d get to meet. Have you settled in okay? Is everything to your liking?’

  ‘Yes, everything’s perfectly fine, thank you. The apartment’s lovely.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it?’ I said, eager to keep him talking. ‘We had it renovated recently so it’s all fresh and new. I’m quite jealous you’re living there, actually. I felt like moving in myself.’

  Raising his eyebrows slightly, he looked at me with interest. ‘Why didn’t you then?’

  ‘I have my own house already. It’s only a ten-minute walk down the road and over the river. Close enough.’ Realising I was on the verge of giving him my home address and inviting him round for tea, I shut up and then noticed my fingers were still wrapped around his big, warm hand. Trying to pretend it was normal to hold a handshake for this long, I let go and tucked my hands into the pockets of my cardigan instead. To his credit, Anthony pretended not to notice and turned his attention to the shop.

  ‘It’s lovely in here. I love the whole vintage vibe.’ He turned around slowly, taking in the shelves of flowers, the display of scented candles on the shabby-chic Welsh dresser in the corner and the floral birdcages hung at different levels from the ceiling. ‘I like the fact you haven’t got any Christmas decorations up yet.’

  ‘Oh, they’ll be going up this weekend, don’t worry.’

  He glanced back over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow. ‘Still too early.’

  I laughed. ‘That’s the way it is in retail, I’m afraid. Some shops put them up as soon as Halloween’s out of the way.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, grudgingly. ‘So, why’s this shop called The Birdcage, then? You’re not trapped here, I take it?’

  ‘No, it was my Mum’s shop. Her name’s Birdie. I take it you haven’t met her yet. She’s on holiday with her sister at the moment. Dad won’t fly.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve only met your dad. Nice man.’ He turned back to face me and smiled. ‘Well, if you’re not trapped here, perhaps you’d like to take pity on the new boy in town and come out to dinner with me?’

  ‘I’m sorry?’ I blinked in surprise, thinking I’d misheard him.

  He smiled. ‘No pressure or anything. I just can’t stand the thought of spending another night sitting in the flat sorting out boxes and I’d quite like to see a bit of Chester. That’s unless you already have plans, and only if your boyfriend wouldn’t object, of course?’

  ‘Oh! No, not at all. What time is it now?’

  He looked at his watch. ‘Half past five. What time do you close?’

  ‘Half past five.’ I smiled, suddenly excited. This was a vast improvement on my original plans for the evening, which involved a microwave meal for one in front of Emmerdale and a bubble bath. ‘Let me bring the flowers in from outside and then I can lock up.’

  ‘Oh here, I’ll help you,’ he said, following me out of the shop to where more buckets of flowers stood just outside the door.

  ‘You don’t have to. It’ll only take a minute,’ I said, bending to lift a container of roses.

  ‘No, here, pass it to m
e.’ He held the door open with his back and took the container out of my hands. ‘Do I just put them in front of this shelf?’

  ‘Yes, please. That’s perfect,’ I said, passing him another container. There were only half a dozen or so containers of flowers out today. It had been too windy and cold to risk more. Leaves scuttled along the pavement and my skirt flapped around my legs, lifting and billowing ominously as I passed Anthony the last container. I clamped it down with my hand, pink with embarrassment, but Anthony either didn’t or pretended not to see to spare my blushes. ‘Thank you,’ I said, as he stood back to let me through the door. I caught another waft of his aftershave and resisted the urge to sniff him all over like my parents’ spaniel. ‘I’ll just lock the back door and get my coat,’ I said, breathlessly, walking through the archway into the back of the shop where we created the flower arrangements. I’d intended to clear the stalks and leaves from the large wooden table before I left tonight, but it could wait until the morning. Locking the door, I set the alarm and grabbed my blue pea coat from the peg. Anthony turned the sign to closed as I dashed round switching off fairy lights and blowing out candles, and then held the door open for me when we were ready to go. I was seriously impressed by his manners. I wasn’t used to such gentlemanly behaviour.

  ‘So, where have you come from, Anthony?’ I said, as we walked up the street towards the city centre. I raised my voice over the sound of cars and buses rumbling past, and he bent his head closer so he could hear.

  ‘I’m originally from Shropshire, but I’ve just moved here from Manchester.’

  ‘So, not too far away then.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Why Chester? Do you have a new job here?’

  ‘No. I just like to move around. See new places’

  ‘Really? Blimey, I don’t think I could be bothered with all the hassle of moving my stuff from place to place.’

  He shrugged. ‘I choose furnished rental properties and keep my belongings to a minimum.’

  ‘Oh, okay.’ I raised my eyebrows, a little surprised by his answer. I couldn’t imagine a life where I moved around from town to town. The only time I’d left Chester was to go to university in Liverpool for three years, then I’d moved straight back home. Presumably, that would seem boring to a man like Anthony. I remembered my dad saying he’d only signed a three-month contract. Dad would have preferred six but Anthony had seemed like the ideal tenant so he’d gone along with it. It was a shame he wouldn’t be sticking around for longer. ‘So, what do you fancy to eat? Anything in particular?’

  ‘Mmm, something with potatoes and gravy. Preferably a pie.’

  I looked up at him in surprise. He was so posh, I’d half expected him to say venison or something, although to be fair he hadn’t specified what type of pie. It could well be a game pie he was craving. He looked at me and laughed. ‘What?’ he said. ‘I’ve been starving all day! Don’t tell me you’re one of these women that nibbles on lettuce leaves and calls it a meal.’

  ‘Not at all. I just… I don’t know.’ I laughed and peeled a strand of hair away from my face. I didn’t know him well enough to start joking about how upper class he was. ‘There’s a pub up here that serves nice food. We’ll go there.’

  It was only a few minutes’ walk, which was a relief because the cold wind was making my eyes water and I didn’t want mascara all down my face. I couldn’t believe I felt so nervous and excited about going to dinner with this man I’d met less than half an hour ago. This wasn’t me; I didn’t go all fan-girl crazy over men I’d just met. I was sensible and practical. The fact that I’d got engaged to my last boyfriend rather too quickly was beside the point. That had been a big mistake and one I would not be repeating any time soon.

  Anyway, this wasn’t a date. I was just being neighbourly, that’s all, and taking care of my parents’ new tenant. It wasn’t nice to be all alone in a new city, especially with Christmas approaching. No matter how much he liked to move around and be in new places, he was bound to get lonely sometimes. And he might even have a girlfriend already. Just because he lived alone didn’t necessarily mean he was single.

  I breathed the cool night air deep into my lungs as we approached the pub to try and calm my nerves. Anthony opened the door and stood back to let me enter first. The pub was quiet so finding a table was no problem. We sat at a table for two next to the window. He smiled as he passed me a menu and my stomach fluttered.

  ‘See, they have pie,’ I said, pointing at the menu.

  ‘Mmm, so they do,’ he smiled.

  A waitress came over and took our drinks order. I noted that he spoke just as courteously to her as he had to me and it made me like him even more. I found myself watching the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled up at her. At a guess, I’d have said he was about ten years older than me. Probably thirty-five, or thirty-six. The waitress jotted down our order and walked away.

  ‘So, I take it your boyfriend won’t mind you being out with me tonight?’ he said, turning back to me.

  ‘I haven’t got a boyfriend.’

  ‘You haven’t?’ He raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘I find that hard to believe.’

  I narrowed my eyes at him to hide the fact I was flattered. ‘What about you? Will your girlfriend mind that you’re out with another girl?’

  ‘I haven’t got a girlfriend.’ He rested his chin on his hand and smiled.

  I raised my eyebrows. ‘Wife?’

  ‘Absolutely not.’

  ‘Boyfriend or husband?’

  ‘Nope.’ He shook his head, slowly.

  I sat back and looked at him. ‘I find it hard to believe no one’s snapped you up yet. A handsome, eligible man like you? You must have hordes of women after you.’

  ‘Not so far as I’m aware, but thank you. I’ll take that as a compliment.’ His cheeks flushed slightly and he laughed as he fiddled with his menu with his long, elegant fingers. Realising I’d embarrassed him, I blushed and glanced down. Maybe that had been a bit much. I’d have to watch myself; I hadn’t even had a drink and I was showering him with compliments. ‘I’ve been single for quite a while, actually,’ he went on. ‘I’m not very good at relationships.’

  ‘Really? Why not?’

  He shrugged. ‘I work too much. So, what about you? How long have you been single?’

  ‘Four months or so. We broke up in July.’

  ‘What went wrong?’

  I smiled ruefully. ‘He worked too much.’

  Anthony laughed lightly. ‘What did he do?’

  ‘For a job, you mean?’ I winced slightly. ‘I was never completely sure, to be honest. He ran an IT company or something. Whatever it was required him being out of the country a lot.’

  ‘Where did he go?’

  I shrugged. ‘Places with no phone signal, usually.’

  Anthony raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘Surely if he worked in IT he’d be going to towns and cities that had good network coverage?’

  ‘Exactly. I’m quite ashamed at how long it took me to realise he was stringing me along, but at least I got there in the end.’

  ‘How long were you seeing him?’

  ‘Just over seven months, but if you condensed that into the time we actually spent together, it would probably be more like one or two. He lived in London, so even when he was in the country it was difficult.’

  He wrinkled his nose. ‘London’s not exactly the end of the earth, is it. There are fairly regular trains, for a start. Did you go and visit him or did he come here?’

  ‘He came here.’

  ‘Always?’

  ‘Yes, apart from when we went to Paris one weekend.’

  The waitress appeared with our drinks and took our food orders. He thanked her before turning back to me. ‘You never got to see where he lived? Did that never strike you as odd?’

  I shrugged. ‘I was more concerned with when I was going to see him again. If we’d spent more time together, then
maybe I would have. I suppose it doesn’t matter now anyway.’

  ‘You’re over him, are you?’

  ‘Yes.’ I reached for my drink and took a sip.

  ‘You don’t miss him at all?’

  ‘Not really. We didn’t spend enough time together for me to really miss him. I suppose I missed the idea of him at first. The possibility that he would come and visit me. But it didn’t take too long for me to realise that my life was pretty much the same as it had always been. If anything, it was easier because I didn’t have the agony of waiting for the phone to ring or the disappointment when he couldn’t see me, yet again.’ I sighed heavily and shook my head, more at myself than anything else. ‘It’s strange because, at the time, I was mad about him, but he feels like some kind of dream now.’

  ‘Dream? Or nightmare?’

  I laughed. ‘Oh, he was a dream. When he was around he was lovely. It’s just that he had no substance. He just came and went like some kind of stray cat. Anyway, let’s not talk about Patrick. What about you?’

  Anthony’s eyes flickered and he shook his head. ‘Nothing much to say really. I live a very boring, simple life. I run, work, eat and sleep, and that’s the way I like it.’

  I cocked my head to one side. ‘What job do you do?’

  ‘I’m a detective.’

  ‘You are?’ My eyebrows shot up in surprise. ‘Wow! I didn’t expect that.’

  ‘What did you expect?’ He laughed as he took a sip of his beer.

  ‘I don’t know.’ I shrugged. ‘Just not that.’

  ‘Does it bother you?’

  ‘Of course it doesn’t. Why would it bother me? I just didn’t expect you to work in the police at all, really. I thought you’d be something like… I don’t know… a barrister, or something?’

  ‘Why?’ He looked amused.

  ‘Because of your suit and your manners and how well-spoken you are.’

  ‘And detectives can’t wear good suits and have nice manners? What about Inspector Morse and Inspector Linley?’