Page 2 of Mistletoe and Mulled Wine at the Christmas Campervan

Straw-coloured October sunshine streamed through the gap in the cottage curtains. Jack came to, lingering in a happy-sleepy haze, with Lucy next to him; her gorgeous conker-coloured hair spread out like a fan on the white cotton pillow, her floral-fresh scent all over the bedclothes, and her warm body nestled close. He trailed a fingertip ever so gently over her lightly tanned forearm where it rested across his chest, not wanting to wake her, not yet. Memories of last night’s love making stayed tender within him.

He took a long, slow breath. This was what lazy morning Sundays were all about. Yet it was all so new for Jack – this being together – that it felt fragile as well as precious.

He’d never imagined it could be like this. So much more than fun flings, and flirty nights out. And yeah, he had to admit it, it still bloody well scared him, all this relationship stuff. But this … he glanced down at Lucy lying there, her long dark lashes resting closed, so trusting … and found that, in spite of his fears, his soul was singing. He was drawn to her, captivated by her … Yes, okay, the voice in his head chipped in (and dammit, he wasn’t sure if it was in warning or celebration), he had to admit he was falling for her, big time.

He placed a gentle kiss on the top of Lucy’s head, her hair soft and ticklish under his lips. As he did so, his gaze was drawn to a strange step-like contraption placed next to the shabby-chic chest of drawers to his side of the double bed. It was made up of three carpeted steps. Hmm, it didn’t look like any exercise step he’d seen before; they were usually rigid plastic and a different shape altogether. Hah, it looked more like something an old lady might have to help her climb into bed. And well, Lucy had certainly leaped into bed with him last night – and the other nights before that – with no difficulty at all. What the hell was that?

He was pondering this when Lucy came to with a soft sigh and a feline stretch.

‘Hey, morning, sleepy head.’ He smiled.

‘Hi, you.’ Her deep-brown eyes connected with his. It hit him right in the pit of his stomach, every time.

He leaned to kiss her gently on the cheek, stirring all kinds of emotions and ‘morning physicalities’. Wow, how did she manage to look so sweet yet so damned sexy all at once?

Luckily, perhaps, the step contraption distracted his gaze once again. ‘Luce…? What is that thing?’

‘What?’

‘The weird step thing over there?’

‘Hah, right. It’s for Daisy.’

Daisy was Lucy’s dog, a characterful Dachshund, who was currently in her bed in the kitchen, no doubt awaiting her breakfast.

‘It’s Daisy’s?’ That fact was even more confusing.

‘Yeah, sure, she uses it to get up on the bed with me …’

‘Really? You have furry steps for your Dachshund?’

‘Yep,’ Lucy answered, matter-of-fact about it, ‘it’s because of their short legs. Dachshunds shouldn’t jump much. They have really fragile backs.’

‘O-kay. So, does she sleep in here most nights, then?’

‘She used to, yeah … when you weren’t around so much.’

‘Hah, well that’d certainly put me off my stride. A sausage dog in the mix.’ He laughed.

And as if in response to them chatting up there without her, Jack heard her pitiful whine drifting up the stairs.

‘No wonder she looks at me as if I’ve put her nose out of joint.’

‘Hah, yes, she will do. And you have, by sneaking into my bed and my life.’

‘Oooh, that’s dangerous. Hope we don’t get back to her nipping my ankles again.’

The little dog had taken an instant dislike to Jack when they’d first crossed paths, though to be fair, she’d mellowed an awful lot since then. ‘So, do you think a dog biscuit or two will bring her around? While I make coffee for us?’

‘Hmm, it might help. But … a bit of bacon or sausage would work even better, from the butty you’re about to make for me, too …’ Lucy laughed, as she angled for some cooked breakfast.

‘Hey, don’t get above your station, madam.’ Jack moved in closer, grinning rakishly. ‘I’ve only offered to do a coffee trip.’ He proceeded to tickle her ribs. ‘And this is your house, so you should be serving me, I do believe.’

‘Stop, stop.’ Lucy was giggling. ‘Okay, I surrender. Coffee’s fine, honestly.’

He drew back, still smiling. ‘It’s alright, I’ll make them, the sandwiches. I’m feeling a bit peckish too, now you’ve mentioned it. Is there bacon in the fridge then, and bread?’

‘Oh yes, we’ve got some rashers. But hmm, now then, I’m not so sure about the bread … it’s perhaps not that fresh.’