Festive Hearts And Kisses (Hope Valley Christmas 2)

10. Jerry

JERRY

“A little to the left.” I smile as Reed rolls his eyes but dutifully moves the tree like I ask. “Perfect.” I hurry over and bend down to secure the tree in the stand.

I’d maybe expected things to be awkward between us after yesterday afternoon, but I’m happy to be wrong. After napping in my bed, we made dinner and watched TV before going to bed in our respective rooms. We shared a goodnight kiss, but that was it. Neither of us suggested spending the night together, and I was okay with that. We needed some boundaries, otherwise lines could get blurred.

“Now what?” Reed lets go of the tree and joins me in front of it. “Are you one of those that has to decorate in a particular order, or do you just stick it all on there and hope for the best?”

Pretty sure I do a crap job of hiding my horror at that last statement because his eyebrows rise and he chuckles.

“Ahh. Strict order it is, then.” He takes a few paces back and points to the boxes of decorations I brought down. “I’ll let you get organised.”

“I’m not that bad.”

“M-hmm.” He walks over to the boxes and picks up two sets of lights out of the many in there. “I’ll start putting these on, then, shall I?”

I bite my lip. “Those are actually for the outside tree.” Bending down, I fetch out a couple more. “I put these on my indoor tree.”

Reed laughs. “Okay. Swap.”

We do, and despite Reed’s teasing, I’m not that bothered about what goes on in what order. As long as we do the lights and spray the trunk with a little fake snow first. And as long as everything’s evenly spaced.

Maybe I am that bad.

We work around each other until everything’s on the tree, then turn the fairy lights on and draw the curtains to admire our handiwork.

“Looks good,” Reed says softly.

“Yeah.”

With Reed distracting me when we picked it, I’d had little input on selecting the Christmas tree now standing proudly on display in my living room. Can’t deny it’s a beauty though. And I have to admit, as much as I love this time of year regardless, it’s infinitely better having Reed here helping me.

“Frank, no .” Reed darts forward and plucks Frank off the floor before he can bat one of the low hanging baubles. “Maybe we should rearrange some of those.” Frank meows pitifully, wriggling in Reed’s arms.

I huff out a laugh, because what else can you do? Cats don’t give a shit if you’ve just spent ages getting your tree perfect. Kyla doesn’t usually bother with it, but I know that she won’t want to be left out if Frank starts playing with it. “Yeah, we probably should.”

After a little tactical rearranging, the tree is finally done.

“Now what?” Reed eyes the rest of the decorations and lights still in the boxes. “There seems to be a lot left. Are they just spares?”

Spares?

“Nope.” I pat him on the shoulder. “Now we do the rest of the house and the outside. Starting with the front door.” It never feels like the holiday season until I put that wreath on my door. Pretty sure I get that from my mum because it’s what she still says every year. I grab the bag that Pete gave me and pull out the wreath, but something else falls out with it onto the carpet.

I laugh when I see what it is, and bend to scoop it up. “That fucker.” I hold it up for Reed to see.

“Mistletoe?” He frowns and looks at Frank, who’s settled down and is almost falling asleep in his arms.

“It’s fake,” I tell him quickly. “Pete would never give me the real thing, knowing I’ve got these guys.” I reach down and stroke Jen who’s just wandered in.

Reed visibly relaxes, expression turning curious. “Where are you going to put it?”

“Um...” I run a hand through my hair, thinking. I could just bin it, but that feels wrong. “Over the front door?”

Reed snorts. “You know the rules, right?”

“Rules?”

“That if you meet someone under it, you have to kiss them.”

I scoff. “No one does that.”

“Don’t they?” He raises an eyebrow.

“I certainly don’t remember anyone kissing like that in the pub, and it’s everywhere.”

“That’s different. It’s a public place.”

I narrow my eyes. “You’re making this up.”

He ignores me. “If you put it above your front door, you’re either going to willingly invite bad luck or kiss everyone who comes to your house?”

Even if I think he’s full of shit, I’m not going to argue because this is fun. But neither of those options sound appealing when he puts it like that. Especially considering Sean regularly comes to my house. I shudder. I don’t think I’m all that superstitious, but... “Okay, so not the front door.” I look around, wondering where else to put a sprig of mistletoe, and it dawns on me that anywhere else I put it will probably be the same if I have guests. But it could also be an excuse to kiss Reed. I weigh the pros and cons.

It’s not like I have to invite people over, right?

“Kitchen door.” I nod as if it’s decided and search for something to stick it up there with.

Reed follows me into the kitchen and watches as I stick the mistletoe up on the door frame. It occurs to me as I step back a little to check out my handiwork that we’re both stood under it.

I’m thirty-seven years old.

Surely that’s too old to be wondering whether or not I should kiss someone under the mistletoe, but that’s exactly what I’m standing here doing. Maybe Reed had a point when he asked how this was going to work. If we were dating, I wouldn’t hesitate to tug him close. But we’re not.

I’m so not cut out for this.

“Come here,” Reed murmurs and grabs my jumper. “You know the rules.”

I let him tug me close, thankful that at least one of us isn’t awkward as fuck.

When he kisses me, it’s easy to lose myself to the way he tilts my head just so and slides his tongue against mine. To not think about what this is or isn’t, and maybe that’s the key: don’t think too hard and just go with whatever feels right.

Right now, what feels right is wrapping my arms around Reed and kissing him back until we both need to break for air.

“There,” he says. “Now we won’t have bad luck.” His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles, and something settles inside me.

I smile back. “Thank fuck for that.”

After lunch, I rope Reed into helping string the outside lights up all over my house. He’s grumbling by the end of it, but his look of awe when I turn them all on is worth every moan he’s sent my way.

“Wow,” Reed says, voice soft like he doesn’t want to disturb the magic of this moment.

We’re stood at the bottom of my drive, looking back at the house, and I have to agree with him, it looks stunning. With Reed helping me, I might have gone a little overboard this year and added a few more lights than usual. They follow the roof and down either side of the house. The pathway round to the back of the house is all lit up too. But my absolute favourite thing outside has got to be the Christmas tree in my garden.

I remember telling Reed he should come see it when it was all decorated, I never thought he’d be decorating it with me. As we stand there watching the coloured lights fade in and out, Reed’s shoulder brushes mine and there’s a gentle ache in my chest that I do my best to ignore.

Then he leans in and whispers, “Thank you.”

Warm breath tickles the side of my neck, and I swallow back a groan. “What for?”

“For letting me stay with you. For making me feel welcome. And for this.” He gestures around us. “I didn’t really have the best Christmas last year, and I’d forgotten how much I love it.” He nudges my shoulder again. “So thank you for reminding me.”

“You’re welcome.” We stand and watch the lights for a little longer, but when Reed shivers for the third time, I decide it’s time to go back inside.

We get halfway to the door when my phone rings. Not my personal phone, but my on-call one. I groan, because a call out on a Sunday evening isn’t going to be anything easy. If it was, they’d wait until Monday morning.

And I’ve been enjoying my day with Reed. I’m not ready for it to end.

“Work?” Reed asks, glancing at my phone as I pull it out of my pocket.

“Yeah, sorry. I need to take this. I’m on call this weekend.”

“Of course.” He follows me inside as I answer the phone, kicking his shoes off just inside the door.

I keep mine on, searching for my car keys as I listen to the farmer from one of the local farms give me details of the problem. I love being a vet. I’ve wanted to be one ever since I was little, but got to say, I’m not a fan of being on call these days. Especially not when I could’ve been spending the evening with Reed.

He’s not your boyfriend, remember. You’re not dating.

That thought pulls me up short, because it’s true. Reed isn’t my boyfriend. I apparently seem to have forgotten that between putting up my tree and doing the outside lights. Maybe it’s just as well I’ve got to go out tonight. Some time and space away from Reed to get things in perspective.

I grab my bag and keys and pause in the doorway to the living room. The sight that greets me does nothing to dispel the cosy feelings I’ve got from our day together. Reed’s already curled up on the sofa, Frank on his lap and Kyla on the cushion next to him. Even Jen is stretched out on the floor in front of him.

Although she dutifully gets up and trots over to me when she sees me. I reach down and fuss her, smiling as her tail wags furiously.

I could get used to this.

The thought pops into my head, and it’s the push I need to get out of there. “Right. I’ll probably be back late, so I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Reed frowns. “You’ve not eaten anything since lunch.”

“I’ll grab a sandwich or something when I get back.” I give him a wave, pat Jen on the head, and leave before I say something stupid like, “Please be in my bed when I get back.”

The cold hits me as I step outside. I’m not sure if it’s the scene I’ve just left behind, but it seems so much chillier now I’m out here on my own. I can’t help but appreciate how lovely my house looks, though, as I give it one last glance before diving off.

I’m headed to a farm about twenty minutes away. They’ve got a problem with one of their cows, and I’m pretty sure it’s going to be a long, long night. Despite knowing that, I think of Reed curled up on my sofa, in my house, and I’m smiling as I set off down the road.

It’s well into the early hours when I finally leave the farm. I’ve done all I can for now. The next twenty-four hours will tell whether it’s a happy outcome or not. I’m going to keep everything crossed, I hate seeing any animal in distress.

I’m knackered but surprisingly awake as I drive home along the quiet roads. Probably due to the fact I’m fucking starving. It’s times like this I wished I lived in a city—greasy takeout sounds like an awesome idea, but there is absolutely zero chance of anything like that around here. A sandwich is about all I can look forward to, but to be honest, I’m so hungry I’ll eat just about anything right now.

It’s strange to see my street in darkness as I turn onto it—I’m used to seeing all the houses decked with lights—but only the streetlights illuminate my way. It’s like everything is asleep.

Like Reed will be.

That thought makes me yawn and then smile as I imagine him all tucked up in bed. And that’s enough of that. I shake my head, determined not to follow that train of thought.

I do my best to be quiet as I let myself in, but Jen barks as I unlock the door. I hurry inside, shushing her as I gently close the door behind me. There’s a soft light coming from the kitchen, so I go to investigate and get a snack before bed. The small Christmas tree in the window is still lit up—Reed probably left it on for me—and it bathes the room in a warm festive glow.

Now that I’m home, the lack of sleep seems to hit me hard and I really can’t be bothered to make food, but I can’t go to bed on an empty stomach. I’ll never sleep. With a resigned sigh, I open the fridge looking for inspiration.

And then stare in wonder at the plastic containers with my name on them. Well, there’s a folded piece of paper on top of them with Jerry written on it, and when I reach for it, there’s a note written inside.

I didn’t think you’d feel like cooking anything if you get back late, so there’s leftover soup or a chicken salad sandwich if you fancy either of them. Or both? I wasn’t sure how hungry you’d be. There’s also some sourdough left in the bread bin.

There’s a crude smiley face drawn at the end of it.

I’m grinning by the time I’ve finished reading, and fuck me, I’ve never been so excited by the thought of soup and a sandwich.

I carefully refold the note and tuck it into my pocket.

Thank you, Reed.

I’d kiss him if he was here right now.

I’d do more than that.

The thought that he did all this for me, that he was thinking about me while I was gone, makes my heart swell with something I really need to put a stop to.

Don’t get ahead of yourself, Jerry.

I eat the sandwich standing up while I reheat the soup, suddenly far hungrier than I was before discovering I don’t have to make anything. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted, which might have something to do with the late hour and how knackered I am, but it still stands.

I mop up the soup with two slices of sourdough and butter, then lean back against the counter with a sigh and a full belly. I wish I could tell Reed right now how grateful I am, but I suspect he wouldn’t appreciate being woken up at—I check the time on the oven—three fifteen in the morning. He’s heading into the office tomorrow to meet with his boss, and I probably won’t see him before he goes. Tomorrow night seems ages away.

Grabbing a page from the pad on the fridge, I leave him a note of my own and place it on the coffee maker. It’s always Reed’s first stop in the morning.

Jen has stayed up to keep me company, so I let her out to do her business, then we both head upstairs to bed.

I pause at the top of the stairs when I notice Reed’s light is still on. Surely he’s not still up? Maybe I can say thank you in person.

His door’s open enough that I can’t help but see in and fuck me , he doesn’t make it easy for me to keep my emotions reined in. Only the top part of his face is visible because he has the thick quilt pulled right up. I can only see his eyes and a shock of unruly brown hair. Frank is curled up on the pillow behind his head, and Kyla—the traitor—is stretched out along his front. They’re like feline sentries and they both look over at me as I stand there like an idiot, but it’s not a sight I was expecting. Maybe it’s because I’m running on too little sleep, but after the note and the dinner he left me, it hits me hard.

I like having him here, in my home, and it’s going to fucking hurt when he leaves.

Maybe we’ll keep seeing each other after or maybe we’ll go back to being friends. Either way it won’t be the same. And I need to be okay with that.

“Come on,” I murmur and nudge Jen in the direction of my room. “Let’s go to bed.”

Like I thought he would be, Reed is gone when I get up the next morning. I slept like the dead and didn’t even hear him get up. He must’ve fed all the animals because no one came to pester me for food. In fact, the cats are nowhere to be seen, and Jen barely looks up when I walk into the kitchen. Reed must’ve let her outside as well.

Just over a week of living here, and he already fits in so well.

I ignore the curl of warmth that ignites in my belly and set about making breakfast because I’m going to have to go back out to the farm at some point today, and I’ve got other shit to do first.

I’m halfway through making myself a coffee when I remember the note I left.

Did he read it?

A quick scan of the worktop shows no sign of it. I can’t see it in the bin either, and a big part of me hopes he kept it, like I’ve kept his.

My phone chimes with a text alert as I’m sitting down to eat, Reed’s name on the screen. It’s almost like he knows I’ve been thinking about him.

Reed : Hey, how’d it go last night? All okay?

Jerry : Too soon to tell, yet. Going back out later for a follow up.

Reed : Will you be late again? If you want I could pick us up some takeaway here to warm up when I get home, since there are about a million more options here.

I’m torn between being offended on my village’s behalf—although he’s not wrong—and touched that he’s thinking about feeding me again.

I’m not used to all this attention, and I can already feel it’s going to be dangerously addictive.

That doesn’t stop me replying with,

Jerry : I shouldn’t be too late, hopefully, but takeaway sounds good. You pick. There’s nothing I don’t eat.

There’s a pause before he replies, like maybe he’s been thinking too hard.

Reed : Nothing? Good to know ;)

I stare at the message for a good few seconds, debating whether I’m reading it right. I’ve got to be. Yes, it’s been a while since I’ve been on the receiving end of blatant flirting, but not that long.

Still can’t come up with a perfect reply though, and I end up taking too long and panic-texting.

Jerry: Great. I’ll see you later

I regret everything as soon as I hit Send. Christ, it’ll be a miracle if I ever have sex again.

Unsurprisingly, Reed doesn’t reply to that, and I look forward to a day of constantly checking my phone and hoping I can redeem myself later.