Snowed In (Fitzpatrick Christmas, #2)

by Catherine Walsh

“No,” he admits. “But I do have a family who are so coupled up it’s starting to feel personal, and if I have to spend one more Christmas with them sending me pitying looks down the dinner table, I don’t think I’ll manage another.

Turns out Claudio’s promise of a private horn performance wasn’t a euphemism.

“No messy feelings.” “Yeah, feelings are gross.”

“If you were that serious about it, you could have just asked me,” she says, dodging around a slow walker. “We could have—What?” she adds at my look. “I think we’d have a blistering chemistry if we put our minds to it.”

I read it twice, knowing she’s been thinking about this for a while. She sent the text at five past eight on a workday because she knew I’d be going to the office. She probably hoped I’d be going straight into a meeting. Which means that the last thing she wants is for me to text back straight away. So that’s exactly what I do.

“Hello?” “What the hell!” I’m full-on grinning now. “Sorry, who’s this?” “Christian—” “You don’t like roses?” “Not five bouquets of them,” she snaps. “Everyone thinks I’ve got a boyfriend.” “Oh no,” I say cheerfully. “Sounds awful.”

“One of those guys has an antler span of 3.5 meters.” “Sounds like he’s overcompensating,”

“Should we be keeping a note of this?” “That’s not a bad idea,” he says, and I watch as he reaches into his pocket for a… “You carry a pen?” He seems surprised by my surprise. “I’m a grown man. Of course, I carry a pen.” “Not a grown man in nineteen sixty-two, though.”