Tally stared at Cash’s disappearing back as he walked out. She planted her hands on her hips. His type of apology? Arrogance beyond belief. As the front door slammed, Em poked her head around the doorway.

“Wow, he’s confident, isn’t he?”

A wave of dismay hit Tally. “Do you think I’ve done the wrong thing? I never thought I’d even meet Cash let alone have a slim chance at something more.”

“You definitely did the right thing, babes.” Em said. “It’s a game to someone like him, and he wants to win. He’s used to winning. Play it cool. You’ve turned him down, twice. Have you any idea the minority of one that probably puts you in?”

Tally wrapped a lock of her hair around her forefinger. “He did look a little confused when I stopped him trying to kiss me.” She giggled as she recalled Cash’s furrowed brow, narrowed eyes, and tilted head. “Confounded is probably a better description.”

“Well, there you go. Leave him to simmer in his own pompous stew for a few days. See if that doesn’t tenderise the meat a little.”

Tally grinned. Em always did have fabulously unique turns of phrase. She glanced at her watch and yawned. “I need my bed. See you in the morning, honey.”

“You too, sweetness.”

Tally flipped a one-fingered salute behind her back and went to bed, Em’s laughter ringing in her ears.

 

* * *

 

Tally’s feet ached as she stood in line for the turkey. Marks and Spencer was heaving. Shopping trollies squeaked and groaned as panicked customers tried to manoeuvre the unwieldy carts around the store, piling enough food inside to last a month.

“Mulled wine?” a shop assistant asked her, holding out a tray loaded with glasses of blackberry-coloured liquid. The strong smell of cinnamon hit her nostrils, and she shook her head, relieved when the assistant moved down the line.

Eventually, she reached the front of the queue. She handed over her ticket. The assistant returned a minute or so later with her Christmas bird. As Tally hoisted the bag containing the turkey over her shoulder, she groaned. It weighed a bloody ton.

By the time she arrived home, her back was killing her from carrying the heavy bags. She dumped the shopping on the kitchen table, grabbed a glass from the drainer, and cracked open the first bottle of wine she plucked from the bag. Why, oh why had she offered to host this year? She should have left it to Pete like in previous years, but in a moment of madness—or rather, alcohol-infused courage—she’d piped up. And because everyone had seemed so delighted at the idea, she hadn’t been able to back down. Now that Christmas was here, she was filled with panic, fear, frenzy, and yet more panic.

She’d only been in about ten minutes when Em arrived, singing Christmas carols at the top of her voice, and out of tune, for good measure.

“My ears are bleeding,” Tally shouted towards the hallway.

Em strutted into the kitchen, hips swinging from side to side as she finished murdering “Deck the Halls,” a huge, lopsided grin on her face. She left her bag by the stove and planted a sloppy kiss on Tally’s cheek. She flopped into a chair and pointed her chin at the wine bottle.

“Get me one of those. I’m done in.”

Too tired to stand, Tally rocked the chair on two legs and swiped another glass off the drainer. After pouring a healthy serving, she slid the wine across the table. “Cheers.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s Christmas. You’ve finished work for eleven days, whereas some of us poor self-employed idiots are only off for two, and yet your gob is tripping you up.”

“Two hours I stood in Marks for that lot.” Tally cocked her head at the pile of shopping. “And I’m going to have to be up all night basting the bloody turkey. I don’t even like turkey.”

Em snickered. “You worry too much. By one o’clock tomorrow afternoon, everyone will be so pissed you could serve the damn thing raw, and none of us would notice.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. But with your mum and dad coming, and Greg too, I just want to make a good impression.”

Em snorted, and then giggled as wine spewed out of her nose. “You’re kidding, right?” she said, wiping her nose on her sleeve. “Greg would eat anything, including food even pigs would take a second look at, and Mum and Dad are so excited to be coming they couldn’t care less about the turkey.”

“Are you looking forward to seeing them?”

“Yeah. It’s been too long. I’m glad they’re enjoying their retirement in Spain, and it’s not even that far, but I’ve barely seen them this year, particularly now weddings take up most of my weekends.”

“I can’t wait to see them either.” Tally stared down at her hands. “I wish Dad was here.”

Em squeezed her arm. “I miss him too. Doesn’t get any easier, does it, babes?”

Tally shook her head as a spear of pain sliced through her, and she blinked away tears that were never too far away at this time of year. “No” was all she managed to choke out.

“Time for a change of subject,” Em said with a bright smile. “’Cause I am not mopping up tears at Christmas. Heard anything from Cash?”

“No. And I don’t expect to. I thought you were changing the subject to one that would cheer me up.”

“I am, if you’ll give me a minute to explain. I think it’s good you haven’t heard from him.”

Tally raised her eyebrows. “And how do you work that out?”

“Well, if I were a betting girl, I’d wager that right now he’s sitting all alone in his creepy old mansion surrounded by nothing but silence, madly trying to figure out how a woman he’d set his sights on had turned him down. Him. Cash ‘The Ace’ Gallagher. And not just once—twice. He’s probably called a doctor to check out his head, make sure he isn’t losing the plot.”

Tally chuckled. “Great picture, Em. But if history is anything to go by, Cash is probably at home having his every whim tended to by a bevy of blond stunners. I doubt he even remembers my name.”

She internally winced as her thoughts turned to how she’d let him touch her. Desire pooled low in her stomach, and heat flooded her face. She jumped up and buried her head in the nearest bag of shopping so Em wouldn’t notice she was blushing. The last thing she needed was an Emmalee Fallon interrogation.

“I bet you’re wrong,” Em said, stubbornly refusing to let the matter drop.

“Okay, time for you to go,” Tally said, shooing her out of the kitchen. “I need to get started on the turkey.

When Em had gone, Tally put the shopping away. She started to mix the stuffing and prepare the turkey. It was going to be a long night. And she was not going to spend one more minute of it thinking about Cash bloody Gallagher.

 

* * *

 

Em leaned back and rubbed her stomach. “Tal, that was fabulous, but I’m stuffed.”

“Yes, Tally darling,” Em’s mum said as she gathered the plates together. “It was wonderful.”

“Thank God,” Tally said with a grin. “Here’s hoping no one calls me later to say they’ve got food poisoning.”

She stood and picked up the plates, waving away an offer of help from Em’s mum. She carried the plates into the kitchen, desperate for five minutes to herself. Two days had passed since Cash made his “offer,” and every second was agony. She tried to tell herself Em was right. If she’d called him back that night, he would now have the upper hand. And to give the upper hand to a man like Cash… well, it wasn’t the smartest thing to do.

But keeping her distance wasn’t working either.

She opened the kitchen drawer where she kept all sorts of junk and took out the business card Cash had chucked on the coffee table before he’d left. She was so tempted to call. She went as far as picking up her phone and plugging in his number, wondering what she’d say if he answered.

Hey, it’s me, Tally. You know, the girl who let you grope her. So, fancy round two?

Groaning, she tossed her phone on the table and chucked the card back in the drawer, even going so far as to bury it underneath a bunch of take-out menus as if out of sight really meant out of mind.

She had to get a grip. She’d waited ten years to meet him, and… mission accomplished. But he lived in his world, and she lived in hers. Poles apart. Time to forget all about Cash Gallagher and move on. She’d been perfectly happy before she met him. Nothing had changed, not really.

“Tally,” Em shouted through from the living room. “Hurry up. We’re about to start playing Trivial Pursuit.”

“Coming,” she said, grabbing another bottle of wine from the fridge.

She made sure everyone’s glasses were topped up, and had just sat down when a knock at the door had her standing up again. She frowned at Em. “You’re not expecting anyone, are you?”

Em shook her head. Tally wandered over to the window and peeked through the blinds.

“Who is it?” Em asked.

Eyes wide in astonishment, Tally glanced over her shoulder. “It’s Cash.”