Page 50 of A Winter Wish

“I’ll bet.”

“But I couldn’t think of the right one. And even though I don’t put them in there because I believe they’ll come true…” She hesitated. “It’s sort of like I’m setting them free. Like, by putting a wish in the jar, I won’t wish for it anymore. And I didn’t know what I wanted that thing to be.”

He looked at her for a long moment before saying, “You get one more question. For the last non-wish.”

There were lots of questions that were probably way more interesting, important ones. But she couldn’t help saying, “You said you had a girlfriend who was into horoscopes.” He raised his eyebrows and she was surprised he couldn’t see where this was going. “Do you…I mean, are you with anyone now?”

The eyebrows shot up farther, but he simply said, “No.” He stood up. “Come on, we’d better go.”

He held out a hand, pulled her to her feet. But he didn’t let go once she was standing and every part of her hummed at the point of contact.

“Lex?” His thumb brushed, ever so gently, over hers. “Just so you know, if I was with anyone, I wouldn’t have kissed you in February.” It was the first time either of them had explicitly mentioned the kiss, and it made the back of her neck grow hot at the same time as something pulled, low in her stomach.

“OK.” Somehow now all she could focus on was the curve of his mouth, but she managed to get out, “Noted.”

He gave her a wry smile, acknowledging she was repeating his own word back to him. And as they turned together to walk out of the park, instead of dropping her hand, he kept hold of it, lacing his fingers with hers.

Chapter Twenty

Daytime in Madrid during the Fiesta was one thing—but nighttime was a whole new level, where the party atmosphere hung in the air, so that it felt impossible not to feel the buzzing under your skin. There were a few places to enjoy the evening festivities, but they’d settled on Las Vistillas. It was a big garden with a huge fountain in the center of it. Some people were sitting on the edge of it, sipping their drinks and chatting, others out on the grass, but the majority were congregated around the pop-up stage at the end of a concrete path, where there were various pop-up bars and food stalls. They’d been here in time for sunset, had watched the low pink-and-orange glow filter through the grass, but evening had set in now, and the two of them were sitting at a table near the stage, drinking what was left of their sangria. They’d hunted down tapas for dinner—something that would have to be on the itinerary for guests—and Lexie had decided Rachel had been right about the patatas bravas, the Spanish restaurants she’d been to in the UK just couldn’t quite match the food she’d had out here.

Earlier, there had been traditional dancing onstage—the chotis, a far cry from the salsa Mike had imagined, where it seemed to Lexie that the men mainly stood still while the women moved around them—but now the music had shifted into something more modern and sensual, and the whole place was alive with celebration as people danced all around the garden.

There weren’t all that many tables to sit at, and Lexie and Theo were bunched next to another couple, who kept awkwardly leaning over to kiss in a very public display of affection. Given the lack of space, Theo’s knee kept bumping hers under the table, sending heat shooting up Lexie’s thigh each time it happened, in a way that made it hard to think straight. The band playing up on stage was a useful distraction, and she kept making a show of watching them during the pauses in conversation. She’d had a message from Fran earlier in the evening, asking whether she was coping with Theo and telling her that her latest date had gone terribly wrong because the man in question had kept trying to touch her thigh under the table after about five minutes of knowing each other. Lexie had then proceeded to imagine Theo’s hand on her thigh under the table, and so when she’d replied saying she was just about coping, it had felt like a lie.

The Spanish couple next to them leaned across the table to kiss each other again, apparently oblivious to how close to them Theo and Lexie were sitting.

“When I was sixteen,” Theo said loudly, as if to make it obvious to the couple that they were not alone, “I got a tattoo on my back. I thought about getting it removed but it seemed like too much hassle and money, so it’s still there.”

“You have a tattoo? What of?”

“Nothing, really. It’s basically just a black squiggle.”

Lexie grinned. “You make it sound so macho.”

“It’s really not. It was a decision sixteen-year-old me made and although I don’t spend much time looking at my back, so can’t be sure, I’m pretty sure the guy made it uneven when it’s not supposed to be—which I suppose is what you’d expect from a dodgy tattoo shop that didn’t bother to ask how old I was.”

Lexie laughed. “Will you show me?” She immediately regretted it. If it was on his back, he’d have to be at least semi-naked for her to see it, and seeing him semi-naked would not be a good idea. Picturing him semi-naked was not a good idea either. Stop it, Lexie.

He cocked one eyebrow in that way of his. “Maybe one day.”

She cleared her throat, tried to brush past the moment. “Did your parents find out?”

“Yeah. My mum went mental, but that was sort of the reason I did it, so mission accomplished. I think my dad just sighed and went back to reading the paper.” He gave her a meaningful look. Right—a truth for a wish. She could feel his eyes on her, even as she looked to the band—her safety net. And right now, she was wishing her body didn’t react like this to him, wishing the music and the sangria and the evening shadows weren’t getting to her so much.

“Ah…” She glanced back at him, shifted enough that their knees brushed under the table. An accident. Mostly. His eyes turned heavy on her, enough to make heat gather between her thighs. She cleared her throat and uncrossed then recrossed her legs. He followed the movement, and his glass of sangria paused, resting on his bottom lip for a second before he took a sip. She wished she didn’t remember what that lip tasted like. Wished she didn’t wonder if it would be the same if she kissed him again.

“Would you like a dance, mi amor?”

Lexie started and looked up into the face of an attractive Spanish man who had approached their table without her noticing. He was clean-shaven and had a mess of dark hair, and his eyes sparkled as he smiled at her, his hand out in a question. She nearly declined. Then she glanced at Theo again, who was watching her a little too carefully, and decided that, actually, a dance with a random Spanish man sounded like a great way to get a little space from Theo so she could get control of herself. So she put her hand in his and let him pull her into the throng of people, all dancing under the stage.

The music thrummed under her skin, and though she wasn’t a hugely talented dancer, she could move well enough, and she caught the rhythm easily as the man put his hands to her waist, guiding her through the steps. She closed her eyes for a beat. She’d forgotten how much she loved to dance, just for the hell of it. The man twirled her under his arm, twice in quick succession, and she let out a laugh. The night air was cool, but it was hot enough with all the bodies pressed close together that she could feel sweat dampen her back.

“You are beautiful, mi amor,” the man said, in what was clearly supposed to be a low, seductive tone.

She laughed to cover up the slight awkwardness she felt. “Thank you.” She hadn’t had a chance to change today—the days here had been very full-on, trying to fit in as much as possible, and her strappy dress felt less suited to a nighttime of dancing than it had to a picnic in the park. Her skin felt warm and tight, a warning that she’d been out in the sun for too long, and her hair was messed up in a way that was definitely on the “dragged through a hedge” rather than the “beachy” side of the scale.

His hands traveled up her sides, back down again, in a way that felt a little too intimate. She pulled away slightly and he got the message, kept them on her waist as they moved to the beat. It was definitely a salsa vibe, though the music added a modern spin on the traditional, so that it felt a little wilder. She glanced over to the table where Theo was still sitting, saw him scowling at the man dancing with her. She felt herself flush and looked away before he caught her eye. Was he jealous? But she was allowed to dance with someone else, wasn’t she? They were just colleagues—colleagues who had barely even tolerated each other until recently. And OK, fine, they’d ended up having a nice afternoon in the park, but all they’d ever done was kiss—once—in a moment where they had mixed up hatred with lust. And he’d held her hand this afternoon as they’d walked—but just in comfort, because she’d cried about her dad, and he felt sorry for her. Right?