Page 64 of The Christmas Highland Lodge

I could feel my smile slipping. ‘So, every Christmas was something special. It might sound corny, but it was exciting just seeing my dad laying out a glass of whisky, a mince pie and a carrot for Santa and Rudolph.’

I gathered myself together and carried on, trying to ignore the growing lump in my throat. ‘When I was little, the three of us would snuggle up on the sofa and watch the original Scrooge on Christmas Eve. You know, the black and white version with Alasdair Sim.’ I could feel my smile returning at the memory. ‘Then Mum and Dad would hang a pillowcase on my bedroom door.’

I picked up my mug again and took another sip of my tea. ‘One year, my parents got hold of some fake snow, dusted it over the front doorstep and then my dad stuck his pair of wellies on and trampled about in it, to make it look like Santa had been. I wasn’t supposed to see, but I crept downstairs and hid.’

Blake smiled. ‘After all that, I can understand why this time of year means so much to you, Lottie.’

I realised with a jolt that he had called me by my first name, rather than Ms Grant like he usually did. It sounded lovely, rolling around his deep voice. I checked myself and continued talking, in the hope that my thoughts would get back onto an even keel, rather than dwelling on Blake’s sexy rumble. ‘Oh, that’s definitely where I got my obsession from. Growing up, I started reading about Christmas traditions of old and what other countries do.’

Warming to one of my favourite subjects, I started telling Blake about other countries and their festive customs. ‘In Australia, they hold a Carols by Candlelight event every Christmas Eve in a local park. People of all ages come together to sing along to carols performed by an orchestra or singer and hold candles.’ I took another sip of tea. ‘A goose feather Christmas tree, dyed green and decorated with small ornaments, was the first artificial German and later Victorian, Christmas tree. They also used turkey, swan and ostrich feathers.’

I drained my tea but still clasped the mug. I realised I had been blethering on like a toddler who had just learnt to talk. ‘Sorry. I can’t stop going on about Christmas, once I get started.’

Blake shook his head. ‘No need to apologise. I never thought I would say this, but listening to you talk about Christmas traditions with such enthusiasm and knowledge, well, it’s really interesting.’

‘Thank you. I think.’

We both smiled. I clasped tighter on to my empty tea mug. ‘And how about you?’

Blake blinked at me. ‘What about me?’

I wondered whether I might be treading on delicate ground here, but he had asked me about my love of Christmas and I had been pouring my heart out about my dad. I decided to go for it and venture onto more personal territory. ‘What were your Christmases like as a kid?’

Blake’s expression, which had been soft and open only a moment ago, tightened.

‘Did you have any festive family rituals that you did?’

‘No,’ he ground out, downing the rest of his mug of tea and signalling that this particular line of questioning was off-limits. ‘We didn’t go in for that sort of thing.’

Whatever the reason was, he didn’t want to talk about it. I shook my head. ‘Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

Blake kept his eyes trained ahead of him. ‘There’s no need to apologise. You didn’t upset me.’ His expression had hardened. He was just saying that to be polite.

‘I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to…’

He shook his head. ‘No, it’s ok.’ He sat for a few moments longer, lost in thought. Then he stood up. ‘Come on. Let’s get this show on the road. I don’t want the local kids throwing snowballs at my car and calling me Scrooge if I don’t have a scrap of tinsel visible anywhere.’

I let out a laugh.

Blake put on a comic frown. ‘It’s nice to see the idea of me being persecuted by the local school kids is amusing you.’

‘I’m just surprised they haven’t done it already.’

We fetched the carrier bag and pulled out the tinsel and the lights. I began draping swathes of the tinsel around the frames of the dramatic scenery pictures and photographs on Blake’s walls.

Once they were in place, we secured a strand of the red and green lights around the entrance doors, so clients would be greeted by them as they came in. There were still a few strands of the tinsel remaining, so we tied them around the branches of Blake’s little tree and topped it off with some of the lights.

Then we stepped back to admire our handiwork. It wasn’t Santa’s Grotto, but it was much more festive and a darned sight cheerier than it had been.

‘Now, I hope once I’ve gone, you’re not going to accidentally on purpose set fire to this little lot?’

‘Stop putting ideas in my head.’ Blake shot me a sideways glance. ‘Thank you, Lottie.’

I tried to sound blasé about it. ‘You’re welcome. Now, that wasn’t so painful, was it?’

Blake’s lips moulded into a ghost of smile. ‘If you say so.’

There was an odd, charged silence. I found myself beginning to swing my arms backwards and forwards like an out-of-control propeller. Why the hell was I doing that?!