Sebastian seemed more relaxed and at home than he had done when he’d joined the meeting just a few days ago. “You seem less grumpy than you were when you arrived. Has the Snowsly ambience gotten to you?”
He chuckled as he led me toward my cottage. “Maybe I’ve just accepted the idea that I’m going to have to wait until the twenty-fourth to go to Barbados. It’s not that far away.”
“You’re leaving on Christmas Eve?” My stomach flipped, disappointed for him—and maybe for me, too. What was the point in all the build-up and anticipation if he left before the big day?
“The market will be over. The Christmas committee disbanded. Granny won’t need me here.”
My stomach tugged at his words. As we reached my front door step, I turned to him. “She might not need you here, but I have no doubt that she’d love to spend Christmas with you.”
He pulled in a breath as he turned to face me. “She’s the center of this village. She won’t even notice I’m gone.”
But I would.
“You’ll be missed,” I said, pressing my glove-covered hands to his chest.
He glanced up at the mistletoe hanging above us, pulled his hands from his pockets, and cupped my face. When I dared to look up at him, his blue eyes seemed to burn brighter than normal.
“You should go in,” he murmured, his tone pure, liquid chocolate. If I could bottle his voice and sell it to drink, we’d guarantee Snowsly was the king of Cotswolds Christmas. “It’s cold.”
I nodded but stayed rooted to the step. In the next moment, he leaned in and pressed his gloriously full lips against mine, soft and firm. The heat from his mouth seeped into me, warming me from the outside-in. My entire body began to vibrate.
If that’s what his lips could do . . .
He pulled back and my hand flew to my mouth.
“Did I overstep?” he asked, his eyes narrowing.
I shook my head. “Never,” I managed to breathe out.
The corners of his mouth turned up and he nodded. “Good night, Celia Sommers.”
I watched as he strode back up Delphinium Row and disappeared into the darkness, taking with him his strong hands, half smile, and completely kissable lips.
Eight
Celia
My heart still fluttering like I had a butterfly trapped in my chest, I unwound my scarf from my neck and hung it on one of the hooks in the hallway.
Sebastian just kissed me.
I pressed my fingers to my lips again. It felt good. Strange to be kissed by someone who I’d only known a few days. Someone who wasn’t . . . him. Even though Carl had been gone almost a year to the day, it still felt oddly disloyal.
My phone buzzed in my hand and I pressed accept on the call from my oldest friend.
“Are you awake?” she asked.
“I’m answering the phone. Of course I’m awake. It’s just gone nine.”
“I thought it was eleven.”
“Lemon, you’ve lived in New York nine years. All you need to do is add five to whatever time it is there.”
“You know math was never my strong point.”
“Maths. Don’t forget where you come from. We call it maths with an ‘s’ in the motherland.”
“You’re in a feisty mood.”
I grinned. Was I? Was that what Sebastian’s kiss had done to me? “Just had a busy day. How is December in New York?” I wound my way to the back of the cottage to the kitchen and flicked on the kettle. A nice cup of hot chocolate was just what the doctor ordered.
“I wish you were here,” she said.
Every year we talked about spending Christmas together, but she was paying a ridiculously high rent to live in New York and couldn’t afford to come over here. Until this year, I couldn’t think about spending the season in New York. Carl had his job and family and would never have wanted to be out of the country at Christmas. This year, without Carl, I was paying double the bills, so we still couldn’t make it work.
And this year, Snowsly needed me.
Or maybe I needed Snowsly.
“I wish you were here,” I said, pouring the hot water into my mug and scooping it up. As soon as I’d finished talking to Lemon, I’d head upstairs. It was early, but on these dark winter nights I liked to be snuggled up in bed with a book as soon as I came home.
“Next year,” she said. “I promise, I’m coming to Snowsly next year. I’m putting aside a little every month.”
“You’d love it so much.” I set my hot chocolate down on the two turtledoves coaster, which was one of twelve on my kitchen table, and switched on the lights of the Christmas tree that sat on the countertop. Even if I was only here for ten minutes, it wouldn’t hurt to feel as Christmassy as possible.