The Doctor's Christmas Bride (Lakeside Mountain Rescue 1)

‘But Santa is going to choose you a great present,’ she said brightly. ‘I know he is, and in the meantime we’d better buy this super-special tree before anyone else does. It’s the best one in the forest and I can see other people looking at it.’

Lizzie’s eyes widened in panic. ‘Hurry up, then!’

Bryony took Jack’s wallet and went to pay while he opened the boot of the four-wheel-drive and manoeuvred the huge tree inside, with Lizzie jumping up and down next to him.

‘Most of the needles have just landed on the inside of the vehicle,’ he muttered to Bryony as they climbed into the front and strapped Lizzie in. ‘I think we might be decorating twigs when we get it home.’

Bryony glanced at him, wondering if he realised that he’d called her house ‘home’.

‘Are you getting a tree yourself, Jack?’ she asked, and he shook his head, holding the wheel firmly as he negotiated the rutted track that led out of the forest onto the main road.

‘What’s the point? I’m going to be working for most of it.’ He glanced at Lizzie who was listening to a tape through her headphones and not paying any attention. ‘And, anyway, Christmas is for children.’

Bryony gave him a searching look. ‘Are you coming to Mum’s this year?’

Jack concentrated on the road. ‘I don’t know. Sean wants to be with Ally and the kids so I’ve said I’ll work.’

‘You come every year, Jack.’ Bryony frowned. ‘Lizzie would be so disappointed if you weren’t there. All of us would. You’re part of our family. At least come for part of it.’

‘Maybe.’ His shrug was noncommittal and she sighed.

‘I know Christmas isn’t your favourite time of year.’

There was a long silence and then he sucked in a breath, his eyes still on the road. ‘Christmas is for families, Blondie. I don’t have one.’

Bryony bit her lip. ‘Have you heard from your mother lately?’

‘A postcard six months ago.’ He turned the wheel to avoid a hole in the road. ‘She’s with her latest lover in Brazil.’

Bryony was silent and he turned to look at her, a mocking look in his eyes. ‘Don’t feel sorry for me. I’m thirty-four. I certainly don’t expect my mother to come home and play happy families after all this time. I think that’s one game we never mastered in our house. When everyone else was unwrapping presents around the tree, my parents were at different ends of the house nurturing grievances.’

‘Jack—’

‘And that was a good thing.’ He gave a grim smile. ‘If they ever met the rows were so bad I used to run and hide in the garden. Once I was out there all night and they didn’t even notice. I always used to think that was why we had such a big house with so much land. Because no one wanted to live next door to anyone who argued as much as my parents.’

His experience was such a contrast to her own happy childhood that Bryony felt suddenly choked.

‘You used to come to us.’

‘Yeah.’ He gave a funny smile. ‘You were the perfect family.’

Bryony looked at him, suddenly wondering for the first time whether that had made it worse for him. ‘Was it hard for you, being with us?’

He shook his head. ‘It wasn’t hard, Blondie. You always made me feel as though I was Santa himself from the moment I walked through the door. How could that be hard?’

Bryony smiled. She used to stand with her nose pressed against the window, waiting for Jack to arrive. Longing to show him her presents.

‘You were just like Lizzie.’ His voice softened at the memory. ‘I remember the year you had your ballet dress from Santa. You wore it with your Wellington boots because you were dying to play outside in the snow but no one could persuade you to take it off. You were in the garden building a snowman in pink satin and tulle. Do you remember?’

‘I remember tearing it climbing a tree.’ Bryony laughed. ‘I just wanted to keep up with my brothers.’

On impulse she reached out and touched his leg, feeling the rock-hard muscle under her fingers. ‘Come for Christmas, Jack. Please?’

He gave her a funny, lopsided smile that was so sexy she suddenly found it hard to breathe. ‘Better see what Santa produces for Lizzie first,’ he said softly, turning into the road that led to her cottage. ‘I might not be welcome.’

Bryony slumped back in her seat, the reminder that she’d so far failed to solve the problem of Lizzie’s Christmas present bursting her bubble of happiness.

What was she going to do about Lizzie’s present?