Two Purple Gloves (A Pear Street Christmas #2)

CHAPTER FIVE

“Played backgammon.”

LISA

“I don’t understand,” Oscar says, his face screwed up in confusion. “Why did you go to a party in your underwear?”

I smirk at my husband across the length of the long dining table. Cocking a brow in silent question, yes, explain that to your seven-year-old son .

“I wasn’t in my underwear,” Harry says with a teasingly scolding tone. “I was in shorts, and I didn’t wear a t-shirt because it was very warm at the party, and I didn’t want to get too hot. Just ask your uncle Jake how uncomfortable it would have been.” Harry makes obvious side-eyes at his best friend and Jake coughs into his hand although it sounds suspiciously like wanker . Our guests titter at the two of them.

“What did you and Mum do in your room?” Lucas asks with a mouthful of lasagne.

Without missing a beat, Harry answers. “Played backgammon.”

Wine nearly comes out of my nose but I manage to swallow it down as both the kids look adorably confused. My father shakes his head, looking disappointedly between Harry and me, although it’s all in good humour.

“Is this an appropriate conversation to be having in front of your children and your in-laws?” Luke asks with an amused smile behind his wine glass.

“What?” Harry asks innocently. “You have a problem with backgammon?”

“Luke happens to be very good at backgammon,” Rhiannon tells my husband with a smug smile .

“Okay, I think that’s quite enough of that,” Uncle Gordan scoffs at his daughter, and we all laugh. Everyone but Lucas and Oscar who are looking around with absolutely no clue what’s going on.

Chatter takes over at the table and my eyes find Harry’s again. He’s got a soft smile that he reserves for me and our family. One that is full of love and adoration. I return it, feeling myself relax for the first time in about a week. Everyone always says that they’re so impressed I host the whole family for Christmas, saying it must be so much hard work and the truth is that once the guests arrive, I feel like the hard work is over. The week before is when I’m running around like a headless chicken, planning, organising, prepping, tidying. When everyone’s here, it’s just a matter of following the carefully curated plan and enjoying myself.

I love you . Harry mouths to me, his words silent but drowning out the conversation happening around us.

I love you too .

“Lisa, darling,” Mum says, dabbing a napkin around her mouth. “That was absolutely beautiful.”

“Yeah, Lis,” Rhiannon says, leaning back in her chair and holding onto her slightly more rounded belly. “That was amazing.”

I smile proudly. I could try for humble but screw it, I worked hard, and I make a mean lasagne.

“To my wonderful wife!” Harry raises his glass, and the table joins him, toasting to my successful first dinner of the holidays.

A part of me that I absolutely hate wonders why Harry chose wonderful and not beautiful as he has done so many times before. Something must show on my face as Harry’s brows drop slightly and he tilts his head as though to ask me what’s wrong, so I do the only thing I can and plaster on a bright smile.

“Right,” Jake declares, slapping his thighs decisively. “Men unite! Let’s do the washing up.” He starts to stand and the men at the table follow suit, but I hold my hands out .

“No, no, no. It’s all good, the ladies are helping me clear up tonight.”

“What? No!” Jake says it like I suggested running out into the snowy garden naked. “You cooked; we are more than capable of tidying.”

“No,” I say sternly, and he turns his lips down as though scared, making both my boys giggle. “Tonight is the easiest night to clean up so the ladies are washing up and then for the rest of the holiday, you boys are keeping my kitchen neat and tidy.” I tap the table and look at the women, jerking my head toward the kitchen and they all start clearing plates away.

“I’m on drinks duty,” Harry announces. “Everyone give me your orders. Nels-Bells, can I borrow you for a moment?”

Nel glances at me quickly before turning to her brother. “Of course.”

The two of them head to the garage and I turn to see Jake watching me with a disappointed face and hands on his hips. “You shouldn’t be tidying up after you cooked for us, Lis.”

I smile warmly at the true gentleman my husband’s best friend is. “It’s just an excuse for us ladies to have a natter while you boys are out the room.”

He sighs. “I must be able to do something?”

On cue, the baby monitor lights up and Mary’s cries sound from the device and up the stairs. “Could you?”

He’s already halfway up the stairs, any excuse to snuggle with the baby. “I’m on it!”

I laugh as I put the lasagne dish in the sink to soak. There really isn’t anything more to do than load the dishwasher and even though I’m catering this whole thing, I would feel bad if I didn’t tidy up at least one night.

Mum comes over with a pile of plates and sets them down with a sigh. “I really put my foot in it, didn’t I?”

Looking over at her, I see the worry in her eyes and her teeth working over her bottom lip. I sigh and put my arm around her narrow shoulders. “Don’t worry about it, Mum. Nel loves you, I’m sure she knows you weren’t trying to be insensitive, and she won’t hold it against you. ”

“Poor girl,” Mum says sadly. “I never thought about how hard it would be to plan a wedding without your mum.”

I nod, feeling a burn behind my eyes as I think of the siblings in the garage and how they’ve gone through something I can’t comprehend yet. I squeeze Mum again and we silently load the dishwasher together.

The kitchen is clean and tidy in no time. Harry and Nel are still in the garage, and I need to catch her alone to ask about the special project we’ve worked on, the one for Harry.

Harry telling the story of when we first met has made me very excited to give him his Christmas present and restored something in me that’s been missing for the better part of a year. He may have given our family the PG version of events, but my mind has filled in the gaps.

I lead the way up the stairs, Abby’s hot roommate following closely behind. The house is packed so I have to duck and dodge people as I go but I’m too late to avoid two big guys who come charging down the stairs, nearly knocking me over the banister.

“Hey,” Harry growls, shoving the second one back before he hits me too. “Watch where you’re going.”

“Sorry man,” the first guy says drunkenly.

“Not me you need to apologise to.” He jerks his head at me, and the guy has the decency to look embarrassed.

“Sorry, love,” he says with a wince.

“That’s alright,” I say with a small smile.

When the two delinquents scurry off, Harry places a warm hand on the small of my back. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” My smile widens as I look up at him.

He steps up so we’re both on the same stair, now towering over me, tilting his head down to look me in the eye. His naked chest so very close and the smell of bergamot and black pepper swirling around me. “He didn’t hurt you, did he?” His concern genuine and his jade eyes assessing .

“N-n-no,” I stutter, swallowing down the rambling words that want to come out just to distract me from an increasingly hard to temper arousal building in me.

His lips twitch up on one side, like he knows. Ah fuck, he knows . Taking my hand in his, he leads me up the stairs and across the landing to a closed door. I try not to focus on the feel of his strong fingers entwined with mine, how his hand feels so big, and the pad of his thumb is rough as he strokes it back and forth over my knuckle. I try not to focus on that, but I obviously fail because I’m so distracted that when he stops in front of the door, I walk straight into his back, my forehead slapping into the bare skin between his shoulder blades.

He turns to look at me over his shoulder with an amused look. “You okay back there?”

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble.

He pulls a key from his pocket and opens the door before leading me through and locking us in. My heart thunders against my ribcage but not out of fear. I mean, I probably should be a little scared, it’s ingrained in young girls from birth not to trust strange men, let alone get yourself locked in a room with one. But somehow Harry doesn’t feel like a strange man, but more like someone I should have known all along.

I wander around the small but well organised, room in a circle until I’m facing him again. He’s leant back on the door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his tighter-than-they-should-be shorts and his eyes following me. He swallows hard enough that I hear it when we just stare at each other, and one hand goes to the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. Unfortunately for me, it makes his bicep flex with the movement and a subsequent tug in my lower abdomen.

“I, uh, I’m not locking you in,” he says with a self-deprecating frown and gesturing to the key still in the door. “I’m just locking everyone else out. You can leave if you want, you know that, right?”

I can’t help the smirk I give him, crossing my arms over my chest in a way I know pushes my boobs up and out. He notices, of course, and my smile grows bigger. Now that there’s a good eight feet between us, my brain seems to be back to at least eighty percent functionality. “Are you trying to get rid of me already, Frosty? You’ve still got—” I check the non-existent watch on my wrist “—fifty-six minutes left.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “Definitely not trying to get rid of you. I just don’t want you to run out of here screaming because you think I was trapping you in.”

“A deal’s a deal, you have me for an hour. Whatever are you going to do with me?” I ask, batting my lashes innocently. I haven’t really been all that adventurous since I left my parents’ house and came to university. I had plans to really let my hair down, to party and get into a bit of trouble, sleep around and laze about. I haven’t done any of that. I’ve gone to parties, but I stick to two drinks and usually leave before midnight. The only trouble I’ve been in was when my car broke down and I had to call the recovery service. I’ve slept with exactly two guys, which I don’t think counts as sleeping around, especially as I technically dated both of them for at least three months each and I’m just not built for lazing around. I get twitchy. But despite my failed attempts to let loose and basically have a complete personality change, I’m totally considering jumping this guy and ditching my three-date rule for the first time since losing my virginity.

“That’s up to you, Angel,” he says, his voice rasping over the words like it’s a struggle for him. “We can talk, we can sit in silence. I have my laptop and several episodes of How I met Your Mother downloaded and I think I have a backgammon board around here somewhere…” he trails off, his eyes darting around the room like he’s looking for the phantom game.

“Backgammon?” I scoff. “You wanted me drunk and alone so we could play backgammon?”

His face snaps to mine again, eyes narrowed. “You’re not drunk, are you?”

I smile sweetly. “Definitely not.” I take several steps forward until I’m within a foot of that spicy citrus scent and look into those endless forest eyes. “I’m not here because I’m drunk and not thinking clearly.”

“Then why are you here?” he asks, his voice low.

“Because I lost a bet that I’m increasingly glad I lost.” I’m impressed by my brazenness and that muscle in my lower belly tugs again when his eyes darken. I’m confident this attraction is mutual, so I take another half step and look up at him with my bottom lip pinched between my teeth. His breath puffs over my face in a wave of fiery whiskey. Emboldened by his heated gaze and maybe a little by the liquor in my system, I ask, “Can I touch you?”