Cassidy nodded. ‘Ah...the truth comes out.’ She walked over to the hot food and lifted a plate. ‘Why didn’t you just say? You could have used my washing machine.’
‘You’d do my washing for me?’
Cassidy shuddered. ‘No. I said you could use my washing machine. I didn’t say I would do it for you. Anyway, that’s one of my rules.’
He watched as she selected a roll, put something inside and picked up a sachet of ketchup.
‘What do you mean—one of your rules?’
She lifted a mug and pressed the button for tea. ‘I have rules. Rules for the ward, rules for life, rules for men and rules for Christmas.’
He raised his eyebrows. ‘Okay, now you’ve intrigued me. Either that, or you’re a total crank—which is a distinct possibility.’ He picked up his coffee. ‘So, I’m interested. I know about the rules for the ward but tell me about these rules for men.’
She handed over her money to the cashier and sat down at a nearby table. ‘They’re simple. No overseas men.’
‘Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard that one. And I’m not impressed. What else?’
‘No washing. No ironing. No picking up after them. I’m not their mother. Do it a few times and they start to expect it. I get annoyed, then I start picturing them as Jabba the Hut, the fat, lazy monster from Star Wars, and yadda, yadda, yadda.’ She waved her hand in the air.
‘I was right. You are a crank.’ He prodded her roll. ‘And what is that? Everyone around here seems to eat it and I’ve no idea what it is.’
‘It’s slice.’
‘Slice? A slice of what?’
‘No. That’s what it’s called—slice. It’s square sausage. A Scottish delicacy.’
‘That’s not a sausage. That looks nothing like a sausage.’
‘Well, it is. Want to try a bit?’ She held up her roll towards him.
He shook his head. ‘That doesn’t look too healthy. Apart from the pizza the first night I met you, you seem to spend your life eating salads or apples. I’ve never even seen you eat the sweets on the ward.’
‘But this is different. This is Saturday morning. This is the bad-girl breakfast.’ She had a twinkle in her eye as she said it.
Brad moved closer, his eggs abandoned. ‘Should I keep a note of this for future reference?’
There it was again—that weird little hum that seemed to hang in the air between them. Making the rest of the room fall silent and fade away into the background. Making the seconds that they held each other’s gaze seem like for ever.
But he kind of liked that. He kind of liked the fact that she didn’t seem to be able to pull her gaze away any more than he could. He kind of liked the fact that once he was in the vicinity of Cassidy, his brain didn’t seem to be able to focus on anything else. And from right here he could study the different shades of brown in her eyes—some chocolate, some caramel, some that matched her chestnut hair perfectly.
Whoa! Since when had he, Brad Donovan, ever thought about the different shades of colour in a woman’s eyes? Not once. Not ever. Until now. Where had his brain found the words ‘chocolate’, ‘caramel’ and ‘chestnut’?
‘Maybe you should.’ The words startled him. There it was again, something in the air. The way at times her voice seemed deeper, huskier, as if she was having the same sort of thoughts that he was.
But what did she think about all this? Was he merely a distraction? After all, she didn’t want a man from the other side of the world; she wanted a Scotsman. And he clearly wasn’t that. So why was she even flirting with him?
But now her eyes were cast downwards, breaking his train of thought. There was a slight flush in her cheeks. Was she embarrassed? Cassidy didn’t seem the bashful type. Maybe she was having the same trouble he was—trying to make sense of the thoughts that seemed to appear as soon as they were together.
He didn’t like silence between them. It seemed awkward, unnatural for two people who seemed to fit so well together.
He picked up his fork and started eating his eggs. ‘So, tell me about the Christmas rules?’
Cassidy sat back in her chair, a huge smile appearing on her face in an instant. Her eyes went up towards the ceiling. ‘Ah, Christmas, best time of year. I love it, absolutely love it.’ She counted on her fingers. ‘There are lots of rules for Christmas. You need to have a proper advent calendar, not the rubbish chocolate kind. You need the old-fashioned kind with little doors that open to pictures of mistletoe and holly, sleighs, presents and reindeer. Then your Christmas tree needs to go up on the first of December.’ She pointed her finger at him. ‘Not on the twelfth or Christmas Eve, like some people do. You need to get into the spirit of things.’
‘Should I be writing all this down?’
‘Don’t be sarcastic. Then there’s the presents. You don’t put them under the tree. That’s a disaster. You bring them out on Christmas Eve.’
Brad was starting to laugh now. The enthusiasm in her face was brimming over, but she was deadly serious. ‘Cassidy, do you still believe in Santa Claus?’
She sighed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re a Christmas Grinch. There’s no room for them in my ward.’
The Christmas Grinch. Actually, for the last few years, it would have been the perfect name for him. It was hard to get into the spirit of Christmas when you didn’t know where your little girl was. Whether she was safe. Whether she was well. Whether she was happy. Cassidy did look literally like a child at Christmas. This was obviously her thing.
He tried to push the other thoughts from his mind. He was trying to be positive. This year he wasn’t going to fall into the black hole he’d found himself in last year, dragged down by the parts of his life he couldn’t control.
‘Any other Christmas rules you need to tell me?’
‘Well, there’s all the fun stuff. Like trying to spot the first Christmas tree someone puts up in their window. I usually like to try and count them as I walk home from work every day. Then trying to guess who has got your name for the secret Santa at work. And the shops—I love the shops at Christmas. The big department store on Buchanan Street has the most gorgeous tree and decorations. They’ll be up in a few weeks. You have to go and see them. And there will be ice skating in George Square. We have to go to that!’
‘But it’s still only October. We haven’t had Hallowe’en yet.’ Brad took a deep breath. He had an odd feeling in the pit of his stomach.
‘We celebrate Christmas in Australia, too, you know. It might be a little different, but it’s every bit as good as it sounds here. Where I live in Perth, everyone has Christmas lights on their houses. We have a huge Christmas tree in Forrest Place that gets turned on every November. Okay—maybe the temperature is around forty degrees and we might spend part of the day on the beach. But it’s still a fabulous time. I’m gutted I won’t be there this year.’
He was pushing his Christmas memories aside, and curiosity was curling at the bottom of his stomach. Little pieces of the puzzle that was Cassidy Rae were clicking into place. ‘Have you ever celebrated Christmas anywhere else?’
Cassidy shook her head fiercely. ‘I couldn’t for a minute imagine being anywhere other than here at Christmas. Sometimes it even snows on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. Then it’s really magical.’
Brad frowned. ‘Didn’t you even celebrate Christmas in Spain with your fiancé?’
Cassidy looked at him as if he had horns on his head. ‘Absolutely not.’
He folded his arms across his chest. ‘Surely it doesn’t matter where you celebrate Christmas—it’s about who you celebrate with. It’s the people, Cass, not the place.’ He willed his voice not to break as he said the words. She would have no idea how much all this hurt him.
Cassidy was still shaking her head, and Brad had the distinct feeling he’d just tiptoed around the heart of the matt
er. She didn’t want to move. She didn’t want to leave. She wouldn’t even consider moving anywhere else.
In some circumstances it might seem fine, patriotic even. But it irritated Brad more than he wanted to admit. How could Cass be so closed-minded? Was this really why she wouldn’t even consider a relationship with him? Not that he’d asked her. But every day they were growing closer and closer.