Deck the Shelves (Village of Berkingsley #2)

I’ll Be Home for Christmas

Chapter Five

(so let’s Grab a Pint)

“ I ’ll take one more of those,” I said, grabbing a pint off the bar and stealing it right from under Theo’s nose. “Emilia won’t mind waiting.” I immediately put the glass to my mouth and swallowed a few unladylike gulps.

“I won’t mind waiting for what?” she asked, suddenly appearing by my side like Houdini, back from the loo. She wrapped her arms around Theo’s waist, placing her chin on his shoulder. These two were like the sickly-sweet couples you fawned over in Hallmark movies.

His lips landed on her cheek, giving her a kiss. Theo had that sexy, yet sweet boy-next-door look going on: dark brown hair that casually flopped in his baby-blue eyes and a day’s worth of stubble on his face. “Hey, love. I’m glad you’re back. I’m having a hard time keeping this one under control. She’s already confiscated both your drinks, and I’m wondering what will happen when the order of nachos arrives.”

“Hush, you,” I said. “Emilia is a very generous soul. She doesn’t mind helping her best friend work through her problems with a bit of alcohol and some crisps. Plus, the next round’s on me.”

“Okay, but let’s just slow it down a bit before you get properly smashed and make some poor decisions.”

I leaned over the bar and shouted an order for another round of drinks and, what the hell, another order of nachos, just to keep Theo quiet. Crikey, he was a buzzkill. As a childhood friend, he took his role of overprotective big “brother” of the Evans girls a little too far for someone who was the baby of his family. Usually, I don’t mind the attention, but tonight was not the night.

We carried the collection of drinks back to our table, which sat nestled in the corner of the familiar pub. O’Riley’s Place was your typical corner bar found in your typical small English village. Wooden floor, wooden walls, wooden stools that hurt my boney arse. Lingering smells of spilled beer clung to the crevices on the floor, and the greasy odor of comfort food filled the air. Seeing how it was only Monday, the place brimmed with mostly young locals from town and only two gray-haired men sitting at the counter nursing their drinks and watching the game on the telly.

“Alice, here are your nachos. Just the way you like ‘em.” A tall ginger placed the platter of crisps on the table, loaded with sausage and dripping cheddar cheese and topped with a fried egg.

“Thanks, Ben.” I flashed my former school chum a smile. Extra jalape?os. There were perks to drinking in your hometown. Gosh, my head was swarming between feelings of nostalgia from being back home to waves of nausea from worrying over my parents’ situation. Not to mention, I was also trying to fill that empty void of loneliness that existed without Rian by my side. Seriously, who breaks up three months before Christmas? That’s barely enough time to turn a rebound hookup into a proper relationship before the downtown shops begin blaring Christmas love songs through their outdoor speakers. And, while I’m grateful for my parents, a little wrapped box from my mum sitting under the tree just doesn’t bring the same kind of holly jolly feelings. Socks. She always got me socks. Last year, they had sheep on them. The year before, donuts with smiley faces on them. Yeah, socks just didn’t carry the same sentiment as a little blue Tiffany’s box sitting under the tree.

“Alice, you’d better get eating before we demolish these babies,” my friend Trevor nudged, his considerate spirit always shining through. He and his partner, Noah, received the emergency text message from Emilia saying that we needed the group together tonight, and they made sure to catch the rush hour train from London, where they both lived and worked. Trevor was the Assistant Supervising Intendent of Talent at The Royal Albert Music Hall, where he met Emilia last year during her piano tour. This meant that he hired the musicians and made sure everything ran smoothly while they were visiting and performing in the London theater. Noah sold properties around the city and nearby countryside. “And seriously, Noah, easy on the beans, or you’ll be on the sofa tonight.”

“Well, maybe tonight is the perfect night to head to Em and Theo’s for a viewing of that movie.”

“What movie?” I asked, stuffing a crisp smothered with queso into my mouth, making sure at least two jalape?os topped the bite.

“Show Alice the photo,” Trevor prompted, nudging Noah in the side. He obligingly swiped the screen on his mobile and held it up to my face, showing a photo of an adorable brown and white furry creature wearing a Santa hat.

“Aww, well, isn’t that the cutest little guy? He and Pips could be playmates. What is it?”

“Just wait a minute, Alice. You’re never going to believe it.” Trevor said, his eyes animated with mischief.

“Oh, God,” Theo leaned his forehead into Emilia’s shoulder, rubbing it side to side in jest. Emilia just giggled.

“What, guys? Come on. I don’t get it.” My bottom lip pursed out in a sullen pout. I hated being left out of an inside joke. It felt as if I had been abandoned at a rest stop after running in to buy snacks for a cross-country road trip.

“This.” Noah shoved the phone back in my face. But this time, the image was far from the adorable little scruff he had shown me a minute ago. Sure, it donned a Santa hat, but it was more like an evil elf that you’d find overseeing the naughty list.

“Blimey, what in the ever frickin’ hell is that?” A lizard-like creature with giant ears and teeth dripping with slimy drool stared back at me. The origin of many childhood nightmares, I’m sure. I pushed his hand away, eager to erase the image from my mind.

“According to Emilia, that is a character from a holiday classic back in the States,” Noah said, tucking his phone securely back in his trouser pocket.

“Americans have a sick way of celebrating the birth of Jesus. Geez, Em,” I replied. I looked over at her with my judgy eyes.

“Come on, guys. It was a classic in the ‘80s before I was born. My mom and I would watch it every Christmas. Those little guys have a special place in my heart.” She looked adoringly at Theo. “Plus, I don’t know how you have never heard of them. Theo has!”

“Yeah, but I never saw the movie before I met you. It’s all well and good, love, until they get wet or fed after midnight. Then it’s all creepy, drooling monsters wreaking havoc on Christmas. It’s called Gremlins, and apparently, there are two movies, although Milia has only forced me to watch the first.” Theo leaned toward Emilia and pulled her closer. “I told her that if we’re going to watch another Christmas movie with puppets, then The Muppet Christmas Carol is as far as I’ll go.”

Noah grew excited. “Oh, mate, that’s a good one. Michael Caine is a legend and how can anyone dislike Kermit the Frog? My vote for movie night is that one.”

“Yes, please. I absolutely dig a movie with singing. Count me in! Alice, what do you think?” Trevor leaned in, eager to hear my response.

“Hmm?” My mind had wandered from the juvenile problems of movie night back to the news of my parents losing their shop. I had to do something about it. I was never one to admit defeat; I always found a way to make things happen. That’s what made me so good at my fashion marketing job. I learned to style the actors and models in a way that attracted attention to the products and ads, yet appeased the usually rigid opinions of the higher-ups that walked into our office. It was a magical gift I somehow came to possess over the years. But even though I secured my dream job, I had just started in the position last summer and was making meager wages. And without Rian’s contribution toward rent, I could barely afford my London flat. I didn’t have enough money to help my parents with this problem.

“Truthfully, I have bigger problems on my mind. Do any of you have an idea on how to raise a significant sum of money in a short amount of time?”

The group fell quiet, suddenly interested in what scheme I was proposing. “How short are we talking, Alice, and how much?” Theo inquired. He looked over at Emilia inquisitively and with concern. She just stared at me, the synapses firing behind her eyes practically visible from where I sat. It was clear she had given it some thought since our conversation yesterday.

“Thousands. And pretty much by last month.”

Trevor’s eyebrows came together in confusion, Noah’s eyes grew wide in disbelief, and Theo raised his fist to his mouth in thought. The air sat laden with the defensive response of testosterone. “Is everything okay, Alice?” A slight pause sat between each word.

Emilia cut through the tension at the table with her peppy American accent. “Guys, guys. Relax. She’s fine. Put your knives back in your pockets.”

I ran my hand down my ponytail, which sat low in the back, trying to appear casual enough to calm their thoughts. “Yeah, no coppers after me, boys. But I’m looking for somewhat of a Christmas miracle. Do you think you can help me?”

My eyes scanned the faces at the table, all attentive and full of worry. I hoped with all my heart that they could.

Everyone loves a winter festival. My brain was in overdrive with all the ideas bouncing around. My friends hadn’t let me down with their practical imaginations, and for once, I felt hopeful that we could get my parents through this financial hump.

The cold air hit us like a brick wall as we walked through the pub door and out into the winter night. I felt better now that we had a plan in place. Maybe this Christmas wouldn’t be so bad. I could play Secret Santa for real and give my parents the best gift yet. This wasn’t the end of Spines ‘n’ Wines. I just knew it. Sure, the only thing keeping me warm at night was a small heap of fur, but I survived the many months that Rian was away during boot camp last year. I could certainly survive without him now. Which reminded me—

“Oh, shite, I left my takeaway at the table. Pippy will be cranky if I don’t bring her my leftovers. I’ll be right back.”

“She’s a dog. I’m pretty sure she won’t even realize it, kid,” Theo said, his arm linked through Emilia’s.

“Oh, you don’t know how spoiled she is. Just wait until you meet her. She thinks she’s royalty.”

“Want me to go back with you?” Emilia asked, lifting her head from Theo’s shoulder.

“No, I’ll just be a second. You two can warm the truck up, and I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

I gave a quick hug goodbye to Trevor and Noah before turning around and heading back to the far end of the pub. I reached our table and exhaled a sigh of relief, glad that the server hadn’t cleaned up yet. “I got you, Pips,” I murmured, thinking about how excited she would be over the leftover beef kabobs long gone cold.

“See ya, Ben.” I waved goodbye to my old friend at the bar as I walked past, the Christmas spirit beginning to flow through my veins now that I had other people sharing the stress that weighed me down. This little village was built on community, and the connections families had were forever weaved together like an old knitted blanket. Neighbors showed up. They took care of each other. Especially if it involved an event that included food, gossip, or entertainment. Even a casual friendship like the one Ben and I had formed years before in school still held merit in Berkingsley. You really couldn’t escape it.

“Later, Alice. Stay warm,” Ben replied, stopping the flow of ale from the tap he controlled. He slid the glass over to a figure sitting solo at the bar wearing a forest green sweater that stretched tightly across the muscles in his back. I stared for a second too long and then laughed at myself. Even the sight of a man’s back intrigued me these days. I needed some serious distraction to get me through this holiday season without a beau. At least the bookshop’s problems provided that and more.

“Oh, it’s Santa’s jolly elf again,” the figure mumbled playfully before lifting the glass to his mouth.

My eyebrows scrunched in puzzlement as I looked down at my outfit, which, besides the red plaid kitten heels, in no way resembled anything festive. My outfits were often an extension of my feelings, and tonight, I had tried to extinguish my anxiety over the bad karma involved in losing my childhood home and future husband in the same year. Hadn’t worked, of course. So, what did this guy mean by Santa’s jolly elf?

“Excuse me, sir? I didn’t quite catch that.”

He arched his head my way. “Just noticed that you are far from Santa’s workshop tonight.”

His face came into full view despite the shadows from the bar’s poor lighting edging in like ink stains across his cheeks. Those coffee drop eyes. That strong jawline. The elf comment suddenly made complete sense.

I twirled my hair with my fingers, batting my eyelashes dramatically. “Santa only needs me on the weekends. I have other responsibilities during the week. Looks like you do, too.”

He nodded, the corners of his lips slightly upturned, motioning to the stool next to him. “Care to join me, Alice?”

The casual shrug of my shoulders hid my keen awareness that he remembered my name. Sorry, Pippy. Suddenly Mummy’s got her own midnight snack.

“Sure, I could use one more drink. Let me just text my friend to let her know.”

Me: Ran into the Duke from the bookshop. Gonna stay for another drink.

Emilia: Okay. Want me to send Theo back for you in a while?

Me: Nah. I’ll call an Uber.

Emilia: At this time? There might not be any. You’re not in London anymore.

Me: I’m the one who grew up here, remember Miss Boston? I’ll be okay.

Emilia: Alright. Have fun. Be safe.

Me: XO

I pulled up the rideshare app and booked a ride for an hour from now. Nothing to it.

“Everything okay?” Freddie asked, nodding his head at my fingers tap dancing on my mobile.

“Yep.” The air sat still in the silence that followed, but surprisingly, any awkwardness that tended to accompany it was comfortably absent. We were just two people in a bar, having a drink, deep in our own thoughts, but somehow on the same wavelength. Well, to be honest, my thoughts were racing at full speed through my head. This guy was such a hunk, but he was also such a mystery. He was aloof but somehow still friendly. I didn’t quite understand his game. I had never met a man like that.

“What can I get you to drink?” he asked at the same time I called out, “Ben, can I get an Irish Coffee?” His voice was smooth and even, like melted chocolate cascading over the sides of a fondue fountain.

Across the bar, Ben lifted his chin in acknowledgment and a knowing smile. Maybe he knew what was going on here, but I sure as hell didn’t. It had been one of those monochromatic days where I accomplished nothing much beyond laundry, answering work emails, and walking Pippy, but the mental load I carried left every inch of my body exhausted. The moment Freddie turned his head from the bar, though, I knew I wasn’t going anywhere. His aura enclosed me like a warm fire I couldn’t ignore.

“So, um, Fff—” I paused, feigning memory loss. Like his presence at the bookshop the day before hadn’t triggered an hour of girl talk between Emilia and me. But he didn’t have to know that.

“Freddie,” he replied, unbothered.

“So, Freddie, what’s your story? What are you doing alone in a pub in Berkingsley on a Monday night? It’s not exactly the type of place you visit expecting to bring someone home without being the talk of the village the next day.”

He leaned toward me, breathing in my ear, “I hadn’t realized you expected to come home with me. A bit quick for my tastes, but if you insist…”

My mouth hung open at his insinuation, and as I prepared to give him a piece of my mind, the left side of his mouth turned up into a delicious, goofy grin.

“I’m sorry. That was a lame joke. I would kill any bloke who even remotely thought those things about my sisters. Can I start again? I promise I have better pickup lines.”

I nodded hesitantly but couldn’t hold back my smile. “It’s alright. I’m not that easily offended. Go on. Tell me why you’re here, then. I’m all ears.”

“Believe it or not, I wasn’t supposed to be that lonely bloke at the bar. I had plans with my sisters, but Sophie, the oldest, is scrubbing vomit out of my nephew’s carpet, Nella forgot that the newest season of The Bachelor starts tonight, and my baby sister, Lulu, decided a night out with her big brother wasn’t as cool as a last-minute date with her boyfriend.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “So, here I am.”

“Wait,” I exclaimed in shock. “Shite, The Bachelor starts tonight? That totally slipped my mind. I’m off, too.” I began to shift my weight off the bar stool when I felt the light pressure of his hand on my shoulder.

“Really?” His caramel-laced voice suddenly lacked its easy coolness, sounding more like an eleven-year-old boy who was turned down by a girl on the playground, and I almost felt bad for pretending to be the fourth female tonight who had better plans than hanging with him.

I settled back in my place. “Nah, I’m just playing with you. I have too much drama in my own life. I don’t need to watch the telly to get my fill.”

He seemed to settle back comfortably on his stool. “Want to talk about it? Or just drink about it?”

I thought for a minute. Did I want to talk about it? I usually word-vomited all my problems to anyone who would listen. But I was tired of feeling heartbreak. Tired of replaying the reel of my non-existent future with Rian through my head. I had successfully removed him from the physical parts of my life, having redecorated the flat we shared and converting it back to the living space of a single occupant. I trashed the chipped mug he used every single morning for the only dose of caffeine he allowed himself a day. I should have seen the signs then. Who has that kind of self-restraint? Only a psychopath , that’s who . I added an elaborate shoe rack on the side of the closet where his combat clothing and service uniform had neatly hung in rows organized by length. His shelf in the living room, usually lined with plastic cases of shooter video games, now held a framed photo of me and Pippy, as well as a treat jar that said, “It’s treat o’clock somewhere!” But even though I removed these everyday reminders of Rian, his smell still lingered on the right side of the bed, and his promises of forever still echoed throughout my head when I walked Pippy in the early mornings.

“No. I think I’m okay,” I lied.

“Okay.” He turned his head toward the telly that was hanging adjacent to the rows of glasses elevated on a wooden shelf near the ceiling. A football game played on the screen with captions running across the bottom.

“You like football? I pegged you as more the literary type.”

“A guy can’t like sports and reading? Where did you pick up that stereotype?”

“I guess my personal experience has been very limited-” I cleared my voice, “-in that area. Date nights in my last relationship always revolved around what time the gym was open and whether there was another level to beat in his video game.

He grunted. “Sounds like you’ve been with boys, not men.”

“Yeah, I guess you could say that.” I took a long drink from my mug. Eager to change the topic, I asked, “What’s your favorite book, then?”

On the screen, one of the players made a goal, and reactively, Freddie’s fist slammed against the counter, and a jumble of obscenities flew out of his mouth.

“Come on, mates,” he growled. “You have one freakin’ job.” His hands hung in the air, pleading with the universe over a silly game. I cautiously looked over at him, wondering how this was going to go. Is this the moment his attractiveness took a dive with the appearance of an angry temper?

To my surprise, his body calmly rotated in my direction, a sort of Jekyll and Hyde act, saying, “I love a good saga. Lord of the Rings or the Ken Follet series. Something that keeps me invested in the story and takes me to a new place. I quite enjoy history, actually. I studied the Medieval period at King’s College a few years back.”

“History? Blech. I mean, I love a good fictional saga, but you wouldn’t catch me reading one of those dry textbooks even if it held the key to the fountain of youth.”

“Well, actually, you can find the answer to eternal youth there. Have you ever heard of the Spanish explorer Juan Ponce de Leon?”

“Nope, nope, and nope. I refuse to listen to a history lesson when I have enough problems in the present to worry about. Sorry, Professor Freddie, I won’t be pouncing on any Juan Leons tonight.”

A chuckle erupted compulsively from his gorgeous face despite his best intentions to maintain a serious disposition.

“Careful there, Champ. You’ve got a bit of, um, something on your face.” I motioned with my thumb to the side of my face, trying to show him where.

He brushed his hand across his chin but came up empty.

“To the left. No, a bit more. Nope, too far. Oh, just let me.” I leaned over, totally evading his personal space and inhaling a faint undertone of pine and cypress. The pads of my fingers brushed against his trimmed stubble, and the intimacy of my action suddenly felt enormous. I paused for a beat, unsure what my next move should be. The easy companionship I felt around him in the last hour changed as abruptly as my daily wardrobe.

Oxygen finally found its way back to my head, and I returned to my stool, my cheeks aflame like the fireplace behind us. Electricity. That’s what I felt when I touched his face. A jolt that shocked my heart, twisted my stomach, and finally settled in my lady bits. Oh, shite. I had the hots for this guy.

Curiously, he seemed to be immune to my agitation and simply replied, “Thanks.”

We chatted on and off for the next twenty minutes, sharing trivial facts, like what our favorite trilogy was and if we were more productive during the mornings or at night. Nothing too deep or personal. Just a relaxing conversation far from any of the stressful triggers in my life. The more we talked, the more Freddie warmed up. We had just gotten into a debate over what was the superior snack in the cheese world, cheese fries or nachos, when my mobile buzzed from where it sat on the bar. The driver, who was set to pick me up in ten minutes, which, by the way, was the time the bar was closing, had canceled. Perfect. It was almost eleven, and I really didn’t want to bother Emilia and Theo when they most likely had just crawled into bed.

“Something wrong?” Freddie must have noticed my annoyance. I wonder what gave it away: the unseemly words I had huffed at my phone or my pissed-off body language.

“My ride just canceled.” I hesitated for a second. Should I ask Freddie for a ride home? I didn’t even know his last name, but heck, I hadn’t even known my driver’s first name, although that would be changing once I rated his sorry arse for ghosting me.

Let’s see. I mentally checked off what I knew about this guy. He has a mum and three sisters. He’s into sports and reading and has a weird interest in history, which does give off a bit of a nerd vibe, but eh, he’s super hot, so that pretty much negates his peculiar choice in studies. Plus, do I have any other alternative?

“Any chance you can give me a ride home?”

“Yeah, sure. But I walked here. I’m staying at the B & B just a block away. My car’s parked there. I could give you a ride from there if that works.”

“Yes! That would be great. Thank you. I can’t believe this. I’ve never had a driver cancel on me. What ridiculously bad luck.”

“Well, we are in Berkingsley, Alice. A bit different from catching a ride in London.”

“How did you know I live in the city?”

“Wild guess.” He smirked. “Come on, ma ’lady. I shall escort you to your ride home.”

He offered his forearm for support as I hopped off the stool, and I coyly leaned into him. We grabbed our jackets off the coat rack and bundled up for the winter night. A steady drum of cold rain greeted us as we stepped outside. I looked down at my footwear.

“Guess I should have worn my elf shoes,” I said to Freddie with a frown.

“That’s how I knew you weren’t from around here. No one who lives in Berkingsley chooses style over comfort. Hop on my back.”

“What? Nuh-uh. No way.”

“Alice, be practical. It’s only a block away. It’s either that or get sloshing wet.”

My lips twisted in deliberation. I loved these heels, and I’d admit they cost me a small fortune, but I was in no way getting on this man’s back. But then, it was quite wet and…

Umph. The sky was suddenly upside down and rain pelted off my back instead of my head as my body bumped up and down. Freddie’s hands were pressing firmly underneath my bottom, and when I finally came to the realization of what was happening, I was back on my own two feet outside the covered door of Lilian House B & B. I hadn’t expelled an ounce of energy, but I was clear out of breath. Freddie, on the other hand, ran a block with me over his shoulders and looked as if he was out for a Sunday stroll. A wet Sunday stroll.

“I can’t believe you just…”

“You’re welcome,” he replied stoically, running his hands through his wet hair.

I looked down at my shoes, which were still dry and void of any mud. He was right. I was quite thankful these beauties would live to see another club.

“Hmm… you know what? Thanks, actually. And, for the record, I am from Berkingsley. I just currently live in London.”

“Well, Alice, from Berkingsley. Let’s get you home, shall we?”

The day started pretty awful, but I couldn’t help but look up into Freddie’s somber eyes and feel a glimmer of hope. I didn’t even roll my eyes when he teased, “Looks like I brought a pretty lady home with me after all.”