“Mince pie, anyone?” Jake held up the plate, a little icing sugar cascading over the side. “Your mum thought you might need it to help soak up the mulled wine.”
“Good plan, man.” Tim grinned as he grabbed a pie from the plate, sending crumbs flying as he bit into the pastry. He, at least, didn’t seem to realise how long Jake had been standing behind him. That was something, Jake supposed. Although he wasn’t sure what, exactly.
God, what a mess.
“What on earth are you three still doing in here?” Philippa appeared behind him, and he almost bit his tongue trying not to jump. “I sent Jake in here ages ago to fetch you through!”
Tim paused halfway through biting into the remains of his mince pie, his gaze flying to Jake’s. Jake stared back blankly, not willing to give anything away – especially in front of Tim’s mother and sister. His best friend’s thoughts on his history with women wasn’t exactly a surprise, and they’d deal with it later – if they had to at all. ‘Dealing with it’ would probably include an excess of vodka and not actually mentioning it, which was absolutely fine with Jake, but probably best done away from the Mackenzie family home.
In fact, Jake almost looked forward to it. It sounded… normal. And a hell of a lot less terrifying than nine days resisting the charms of Molly Mackenzie.
“We’re just coming through now, Mum.” Molly gave Philippa a cheery smile that looked utterly false to Jake, then turned to ladle another spoonful of mulled wine into her glass. Nice to see that they were all dealing with the tensions of the holiday season in time tested, adult style – with alcohol and denial.
If only he could remember where Glen Mackenzie hid the good whiskey…
“Come on then!” Philippa ushered them all along, and Jake found himself carrying the stupid plate of mince pies back through to the lounge where he’d started. Halfway through the door, Philippa squeaked, “Oh!” and piled a few extra pies onto the plate from a tin on the edge of the counter.
Perfect. Because if Jake had to endure a family evening with the Mackenzies tonight, he was going to need all the stodge he could get to soak up the required quantity of alcohol.
As if reading his mind, Tim called back, “Bring some more mulled wine, Moll?” and she nodded.
At least they were all on the same page in one area – even if they were miles apart in everything else right now.
The lounge sparkled with the twinkle of fairy lights, strung across the fireplace, and wrapped around the otherwise bare tree.
“Where are the decorations?” Molly frowned as she sat down on the end of the sofa closest to the tree. Jake waited until she was settled before he chose his own seat – on the opposite sofa, as far away from her as possible. It meant he was uncomfortably close to the fake flames leaping in the electric fire, but it was a sacrifice he was willing to make.
“Oh, I didn’t want to decorate the tree without any of you here to help me,” Philippa said, sitting beside him. “Too depressing. I thought the five of you could do it tomorrow. We’ll put some Christmas music on, eat mince pies, it’ll be fun.”
“Five?” Jake asked, frowning. Surely she wasn’t counting him in this.
“Of course! You and Tim and Molly and Dory and Lucas. If they ever get here.” Her gaze flashed nervously to the clock on the mantelpiece. Jake knew she hated it when Glen was out late in the cab, especially in bad weather.
“Have you heard anything from Dad?” Molly asked, obviously following the same train of thought.
Philippa shook her head. “Not for a while. He texted to say he was at the airport and their flight was delayed. Nothing since. He’s probably in the coffee shop with a good book, knowing him.”
“He’ll call before he leaves, I’m sure,” Jake said. Philippa took his hand absently and patted it, almost as if he were one of her own children.
Jake pulled it back before the moment could go on too long.
“You’re right,” Philippa said. “And I know that Dory won’t miss the chance to decorate the tree, so I’m sure she’ll be here soon enough, snow or no snow.”
Jake had to admit, that did sound like Dory. And if she and Lucas were there, they definitely wouldn’t need him. “Unfortunately, I’m going to have to beg off,” he said, trying to sound regretful. “I have an important client meeting tomorrow.”
“On Christmas Eve?” Philippa sounded scandalized at the very idea of anyone working so close to the big day.
“Afraid so. But I’m sure the others will do a great job.”
“Nonsense,” Philippa said in what even Jake recognised as her ‘don’t argue with me’ voice. “What time is your meeting?”
“Uh, eleven?”
She nodded. “Perfect. You can all get up early and decorate the tree before you leave.”
Tim groaned, but across the room Molly had a small smile on her face, as though she was pleased he would be forced to endure every aspect of a Mackenzie family Christmas. Or was it just her incredibly tempting company she wanted to torment him with, knowing he couldn’t do a damn thing about it?
Little tease. Just the thought made his mouth dry. He needed to get out of here, quick. Mulled wine really wasn’t cutting it anymore.
“Well, if we’re having an early start, I’d better get to bed.” Jake got to his feet, ignoring the way Molly’s eyes widened with dismay. “Thank you for the mince pies, Philippa, and I hope Glen is home soon. If you’ll excuse me? I assume Tim and I are in the attic as usual…?”
Philippa bounced up from her seat, the perfect hostess, her short, greying auburn curls settling around her head again like a halo. “Of course. You must all be tired! Well, apart from Tim.” She looked critically at her middle child. “But I suspect bed might be good for you, too. Go on, all of you. Off to bed. Big day tomorrow!” She shooed them towards the door with her hands, and Jake couldn’t help but remember being eleven years old and being chased out of Mrs Mackenzie’s kitchen when he and Tim were trying to steal biscuits.
Tim slung an arm around Jake’s shoulder, almost like an apology. “Come on, then. We’ve been told.” He lowered his voice to a murmur. “Besides, I’ve got Dad’s second best whiskey hidden up there.”
Jake faked a smile. Maybe that would take his mind off Molly in bed a floor below him, but he doubted it.
Molly Mackenzie and her soft skin, her bright hair, and her bag full of silky lingerie had taken over his brain, and he was damned if he knew how to get her out of there.
But he knew he had to try.
-
Molly lingered behind as the boys made their way up the stairs towards the attic room their dad had converted for Tim the minute he hit puberty. With two sisters sharing the room beside him, and a mother who didn’t much believe in knocking, he had declared that a teenage boy deserved some privacy.
Molly had spent years wondering what Tim, Jake, and their other friends talked about or did up there in his private den, but she’d never wanted to sneak up there as much as she did tonight. Especially if
she could get Tim out of the way…
“Your bed’s all made up too,” her mum said. “Go on. I’ll clear up down here.”
“Are you sure?” Molly paused in the doorway. “I can wait up with you for Dad and Dory, if you like?”
But her mum shook her head. “Who knows how long they’ll be. No, I’m going to make one last batch of mince pies, in case they’re hungry when they get in, and then I’m going to bed with an audio book. You go on up. Get some rest. You’re looking too pale.”
“Okay.” Leaning over, Molly kissed her mum on the cheek and turned to climb the stairs. Sleep would be good. It had been a long day – a long six months, really.
“It’s so good to have you home,” Mum said, wrapping her arms around her waist for a moment.”
“It’s really, really good to be here.” Molly smiled. However crazy everything else was, at least home was always home. “Night, Mum.”
Upstairs, Molly flipped on the light switch and looked around the bedroom she’d shared with Dory throughout their childhood, until her sister left for university. Small pink flowers still covered one wall, dotted with bare patches where the wallpaper had been torn away when removing posters or artwork, over the years. Now, just the twin beds with their rosebud covers remained, bedside tables between them, and two desks-cum-dressing tables against the far wall.
Why had no one ever thought to change it? Dory hadn’t lived at home in years. Of course, once Molly had finished university and come home herself, she’d moved into the spare room, with its queen sized bed and non-floral decoration. It had made sense, as the only one of them still living at home at the time. Even once Tim had rebounded from his job in Edinburgh that summer, he’d just moved back up into the attic while waiting for the next big thing to come along.
The little pink room she’d grown up in hadn’t been needed anymore. Until Dory came home with a surprise guest in the form of Lucas, last year, and Molly had been ousted back to the children’s zone.
Molly flopped down onto the bed nearest the window, her case on the other bed, and stared up at the ceiling as if she could see through to where Jake was sleeping if she only looked hard enough.