Kate Hardy - Mistletoe Proposal On The Children's Ward / Taming Her Hollywood Playboy

‘And now—shopping,’ she said. ‘I need some stocking-fillers.’

‘You’re not buying your Secret Santa present for the ward, are you?’ he asked.

‘I’ve already got that,’ she said. ‘Though you might find something here.’

‘But then you’ll know whose name I drew when they unwrap it,’ he pointed out.

‘True,’ she said. ‘OK. We’ll do this methodically. We’ll go all the way along each row and back up again, and then I’ll decide what I’m getting. I have four sisters-in-law.’

He blinked. ‘You’re one of five?’

‘The middle one,’ she said. ‘Two older brothers, a younger brother and a younger sister. All married, and all with children.’

Was it his imagination, or did a shadow just cross her face? He knew she wasn’t married and he was pretty sure she didn’t have children. But was that by choice?

‘And I got to be best woman at my sister Jojo’s wedding to Becky,’ she said with a smile. ‘Which was so cool. How about you?’

‘Youngest of three. Two older sisters,’ he said. ‘Both married with children.’

‘Being an aunt,’ she said, ‘is fabulous, because I get pictures drawn for me all the time and there’s always someone to play games with or read stories to or cuddle.’ She smiled. ‘We had the best family holiday ever, this summer—we all stayed at a villa in Tuscany, with Mum and Dad. And, even though we’ve got very different interests between us, we’ve also got enough in common to get on really well together. I know they always say the middle child is the peacemaker, but fortunately I don’t have to be.’

He’d guessed right from when he’d first met Anna that she was part of a huge family; she had that confidence about her, that surety of being loved by everyone and being able to talk to anyone. She clearly adored her family, and it made Jamie feel guilty for pushing his away. He did love his parents and his sisters and his nieces and nephews; but he hated how everyone seemed to alternately tread on eggshells around him or try to jolly him into moving on. So he’d reasoned that it was easier for everyone if he tucked himself out of the way and buried himself in work, and the distance between them seemed to stretch more with every day.

‘Uh-huh,’ he said.

‘So how old are your nieces and nephews?’ she asked.

‘Between six and ten,’ he said. And now he felt even more guilty. Anna was clearly a very hands-on aunt. Just as Hestia had been; she’d always been happy to play games with Josh, Caitlin, Dylan and Layla, and she’d had a stock of books about ballerinas that she’d read to all four of them, saying that ballet wasn’t just for girls. She’d even taught them all some steps, and the kids had loved putting on performances on family Sunday afternoons. She’d taken them to performances, too, and they’d all been spellbound by The Nutcracker . Especially when they’d seen their auntie Hestia dancing on the stage, pirouetting and leaping.

He’d been a hands-on uncle, too, back in those days. He’d read stories, built train tracks and done pretend tea parties with teddies. Hestia’s death had meant that the children had lost their uncle as well as their aunt, and he felt bad about that. For their sakes, he should’ve made more of an effort.

He’d start with Christmas, he decided. This Christmas.

He’d let Anna help him face Christmas again and get his family back; and in turn he’d help her by playing Father Christmas for the ward. OK, so he wasn’t ever going to get to the stage where he could open his heart to another partner, but he knew his family deserved much better than this. He needed to change. And he needed help to do it; on his own, he knew he’d just back away again because it was too hard to face.

‘Mine are a little bit younger—Will’s the oldest, at eight, and Ivy’s the baby. Literally, because she’s six months old next week,’ Anna said. ‘Mum and Dad managed to space us all two years apart, and it seems to be a tradition in my generation that you get to thirty and have a baby.’

Except for her? There was a definite shadow in her eyes now, Jamie thought, but it felt like prying to ask. He didn’t want to hurt her, not when she was being so kind and sweet.

She gave him a super-bright smile. ‘I’ve already bought and wrapped all their main presents so, as I said, I’m looking for stocking-fillers.’

‘You’ve already bought and wrapped everything? But it’s only November,’ he said.

‘It’s December next weekend,’ she corrected. ‘Being organised means I get to find the perfect presents without any pressure and I also have the time to wrap them. My oldest brother refuses to go shopping until the day before Christmas Eve.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘That’d drive me bananas, dealing with the heaving crowds and risking having to rethink what I’m buying because what I want is out of stock.’

‘So you’re a planner?’

‘Better believe it,’ she said with a grin. ‘I have spreadsheets, the lot. I keep a file of exactly what I’ve bought and for whom. It means I don’t accidentally buy the same thing twice for one of my nieces and nephews—or buy the same book for one of the siblings, unless it’s one that’s been loved to bits and I’m replacing it.’ She smiled. ‘Perhaps you can help me look for something.’

Christmas shopping.

Hestia had loved Christmas shopping. She’d loved wrapping the presents, too, all ribbons and bows and garlands. Since her death, Jamie had bought mainly gift vouchers as presents; if he had bought an actual gift, he’d done it online and chosen the ‘wrap it for me’ option rather than doing it himself.

Now he realised how impersonal his actions must have seemed to his family, and he felt ashamed. They loved him and they missed Hestia, too. They’d all felt the loss of the little girl who hadn’t had the chance to join them. He should’ve let them grieve with him instead of pushing them away.

‘Perhaps you can help me, too,’ he suggested.

She beamed. ‘I’d love to. Buying presents is my favourite thing in the world. Right. Tell me all about your nieces and nephews.’

Uh… How did he admit that he didn’t have a clue? That he’d let so much distance creep in between himself and his family that he didn’t know what the kids were interested in any more? And children changed so much at their ages. ‘Dylan’s ten, Layla and Josh are eight, and Caitlin’s six.’

‘Are the girls super-girly? And do they have long hair or short?’ she asked. ‘Because hair ties and hair slides always go down well. Megan’s six and anything heart-shaped or glittery gets pounced on with absolute glee.’

‘Heart-shaped and glittery,’ he said. That hadn’t occurred to him. ‘I think that would be good.’

‘And art stuff. My nieces love paints and pens and notebooks. And books. I know they’ve got a fabulous bookstall here. Do Dylan and Josh like reading?’

‘I think so,’ he said carefully.

‘Let me show you Will’s favourite—he’s the same age as your Josh. And the bookstall people might have a good idea for something suitable for Dylan,’ she said.

Between them, they bought bangles and hair slides and scrunchies from the accessory stall, then moved on to look at the scented candles. Anna pounced on one for her mother. ‘Look at this!’ she said gleefully. ‘Put a tealight in the middle, and the heat makes the carousel spin round with six filigree owls dangling down. My mum loves owls, so she’ll adore this.’

He ended up with organic bath bombs and body butter for his mother and his sisters, ale from a microbrewery for his father and his brothers-in-law, books for all four nieces and nephews, a wooden duck with red Wellington boots for Caitlin, and a beautifully carved and painted wooden turtle for Layla, who he remembered loving the sea life centre when she was younger.