Page 47 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

‘That would be great. Thank you.

While Ruth trooped off with the door wreaths, I finished draping and winding some strands of baby-blue and white tinsel in and around the tree branches of the Winter Wonderland lodge. Then I headed inside to locate the digital radio, which I’d spotted in the kitchen.

I clicked it on. The sound of ‘All I Want for Christmas is You,’ made my feet tap and move with the beat.

There was a strand of silver tinsel framing one of the sitting room windowsills, so I reached for it and tied it around my head. I began to dance and move, wiggling my bottom and flailing my arms, as Mariah belted out the lyrics.

I weaved this way and that, singing along and waggling my hips in time to the music. I put my arms above my head, sashaying backwards and forwards, and swung round with a flourish. With too much of a flourish, in fact.

I could feel myself lose my footing and stagger to the side. I shot out one arm to try and grab something to steady myself, but my hand flapped in mid-air.

That was until I felt a solid grip take hold of my arm and pull me upright. Surprise didn’t register until I realised I had barrelled into a man’s chest. It was solid and muscular. He smelled of citrus and the outdoors.

My heart stilled.

I dragged my horrified eyes upwards.

Blake was towering over me, with a look that could only be described as puzzled bemusement.

I could feel his arms still holding mine.

I jumped out of his grip, flustered and smoothing my hair.

Blake was dressed in his walking gear, his arms now folded and his mouth twitching. That was bad enough, but he wasn’t alone.

Gawping over his shoulder at this spectacle of me in tinsel and jiving around, before I almost went over like an old tree in a gale, were three older ladies and a grinning gentleman, all swathed in hiking gear.

My cheeks burned.

My horrified hands flew to my neck. I was still wearing the tinsel. I yanked off the decoration and threw it over the back of the nearest new armchair, before reaching for the digital radio on the table and jabbing it off.

‘Oh, please don’t stop on our account,’ insisted Blake. ‘You carry on throwing some shapes – or whatever it was you were doing.’

Smug sod!

I didn’t know what to do with my arms. I pushed them into the front pockets of my jeans before removing them, flailing them around and thrusting them into my back pockets. ‘Why were you creeping up on me?’ I blurted. I really wanted to give him a mouthful, but now wasn’t the time. Not with members of the public spectating.

‘I didn’t creep, Ms Grant. I thought I would drop by at the end of our ramble to see how things were going with the cabins.’ His eyed glittered. ‘Good job I did too by the looks of things, otherwise your dance routine could have left you with a sprained ankle.’

I tried to swallow the ball of growing horror stuck in my throat. I was still struggling to look at him, let alone his accompanying audience. ‘Well, as you can see, everything is coming along very well.’

My attention shifted to one of the ladies behind Blake. ‘Mrs Stritch?’ I asked, all at once recognising her open, inquiring face and cropped silver hair.

She blinked over at me. ‘Lottie?’ she beamed. ‘Oh, my goodness! How are you?’

Oh great. Not only was I making an utter tit of myself in front of Blake, I also knew another member of my rapt audience.

‘Mrs Stritch was my primary school head teacher,’ I explained to an intrigued Blake, keen to move matters on from my wiggling, jiggling bottom.

‘Oh, I see.’

Marigold Stritch and her companions exclaimed and admired the cabin surroundings. ‘If they all look like this one, you’ll have guests queuing up for return visits,’ said the smiling older man in an orange knitted hat.

‘Let’s hope so,’ I smiled back at him.

I turned back to Mrs Stritch, trying not to make eye contact with Blake.

Oh, I was glad he was finding this whole situation so amusing. He was still fighting the urge to smile, which annoyed me.