Page 62 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

My gloved hand dug deeper into the shopping bag. I was hoping Blake would accept them in the spirit with which they were intended.

As I began ascending the steps towards Rock Solid Ramblings’ wood and glass entrance, a poster, tied to a nearby lamp post, was advertising the Craig Brae Christmas Market this coming Saturday. Goodness! I had been so preoccupied with Christmas Crackers and the cabins, I had forgotten all about it.

I made a mental note to drop by the market. That could be another great opportunity to hand out more fliers about the cabins. It was a mainstay in the Craig Brae festive calendar. Anyone who was anyone in the retail business in the surrounding area made sure they got involved.

As well as the local shops, local artists in jewellery, ceramics, soaps, condiments and scented candles usually pitched up a stall too.

A melancholy thought took hold. Christmas Crackers wouldn’t be there at the market this year. Nor any year after that.

It had been a wonderful day for the shop.

I dismissed the lingering notion of making a voodoo doll in the guise of unscrupulous landlords and sticking nine hundred pins it. Christmas thoughts, Lottie! This is supposed to be the time of year for forgiveness and kindness.

My stomach stunned me by performing a sudden and impressive forward roll as I opened the swing doors and headed in to see Blake.

I ignored it. I was probably hungry.

As I suspected, Blake’s business possessed not a trace of Christmas. Everything was the same as the first time I barrelled in here to exchange words with him about his complaint to Max. My cheeks stung at the memory.

I glanced around. Not a strand of tinsel, a bauble nor a shred of holly to be seen. It was still all dramatic photographs of soaring mountain peaks and racks of hiking clothing and equipment.

He was on the phone when I entered. He swung round, mouthed ‘Hi’ and indicted he would be finishing his call in a few moments.

My hand gripped the carrier bag handle that bit tighter.

He finished his phone call and leant against the reception desk. ‘Sorry about that. Is this a social call or do you wish to book my services? For a ramble, I mean,’ he added, deadpan.

I hoped I wasn’t pinking up again. ‘It’s a social call.’ I raised the bag and waggled it in front of him.

‘What’s in there?’

‘Take a look.’

Blake accepted the bag and investigated its contents. He looked back up at me, his face impassive, but the dark eyes glittered. ‘Are you trying to tell me something?’

I gestured around at the wall-mounted TV running relentless climbing adverts and his couple of mannequins decked out in the latest snow gear. ‘I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward, but I thought you might like to make this place a bit more festive.’

Blake plucked out a strand of the red tinsel. Then he investigated the other contents of the bag. He looked back up at me, taken aback. ‘You got all this for me? For this place?’

My cheeks stung. Realisation gripped me. What the hell had been going through my head when I was performing Supermarket Sweep and stuffing all those festive goodies into my basket? I must have experienced some temporary leave of my senses. Blake had made it plain that he had no time for Christmas and yet here I was, clutching all this paraphernalia and offering to turn his business space into a glitterball. What had I been thinking? What was I hoping to achieve by bringing him these festive goodies? Just because I was Christmas obsessed, I wanted everybody else to be too – especially him.

It didn’t sit right with me, that someone like him, who was so thoughtful and caring underneath the bluster, should have such a vehement dislike of this time of year.

I stared at the carrier bag and what was inside it. Oh shit. Was I was coming across as the local curtain twitcher, sticking her nose in where it wasn’t wanted?

That was the very last thing I wanted Blake to think.

I should run out the door and rewind.

I took an embarrassed step backwards. ‘I shouldn’t have done this,’ I blurted. ‘I don’t know what I was thinking.’ I extended one hand for the carrier bag. ‘I’m so sorry. I should have respected your decision and not come barrelling in here with enough mince pies and chocolate yule log to feed the whole of Hampden Stadium.’

Blake continued to look at me.

‘I don’t know what came over me. I’m not usually like this, all impulsive and wading in there.’

He arched one brow. ‘Aren’t you?’

‘Ok. That’s not true. I am. But I shouldn’t be. Or at least I shouldn’t be in this situation.’