His Mistletoe Proposal. Christy McKellen

over a year. I was in London for a long time, but then I got together with the band I play with now. They’re mostly based in Bath, so it made sense to move here so I could practise with them more easily.’

      ‘Amy told me you play jazz.’ She hadn’t meant that to sound so derisive, but she’d never understood the lure of jazz and couldn’t imagine how anyone would want to listen to it every day, let alone make a career out of playing it.

      A flicker of annoyance crossed his face, but he didn’t pick up on her disparaging tone. ‘Yeah, we specialise in thirties-inspired jazz and blues, but sometimes we give our sets a more modern slant if we’re in the mood and the occasion calls for it.’

      ‘And how’s it all going?’ she asked, this time making sure to keep her tone upbeat. ‘Is it fulfilling? How do you make it lucrative? Do you play at weddings and parties?’

      He gave her a look that made her stomach clench with discomfort.

      ‘It’s not all about the money for me.’ He rested his arms on the table. ‘Look, I know jazz isn’t to everyone’s taste, but it’s worth giving it a chance before you write it off,’ he said bluntly.

      She wondered whether there was an underlying meaning to that. Don’t write me off until you know me better, perhaps. He had a point, she supposed. It was wrong of her to judge before she had all the facts.

      ‘Perhaps I could come to one of your gigs some time?’ she said, trying to pull back favour.

      He nodded and smiled in a manner that made her think he was just humouring her. His food arrived then and he thanked the server, then tucked straight into it as if he’d not eaten in days.

      This wasn’t exactly going how she’d planned. She’d really not expected him to be like this: so...blasé. If she so much as thought about Amy, her whole body flooded with a heavy sort of dread and she had to think about work or something practical so as not to start welling up.

      There was a good chance he was burying his pain though, so she needed to be patient and vigilant—ready to support him as and when he needed her.

      ‘You okay?’ Alex asked after finishing the last bite of his food, his satisfied expression morphing into a worried frown.

      She realised with a start that she’d been staring at him.

      ‘Fine. Just thinking about my week at work,’ she lied.

      ‘Want to tell me about it?’ he asked, though she could tell from the edge in his voice that he was really hoping she wouldn’t.

      Pushing aside a sting of hurt, she shook her head. She didn’t want him to know how difficult she was finding it to impress her new boss. ‘I’d rather just forget about it,’ she said, picking up her drink and taking a few more gulps of it for courage.

      He nodded but didn’t say anything.

      ‘So when is your next gig?’ she asked, trying to keep her tone light and conversational.

      ‘In a couple of weeks,’ he said, spinning his now-empty glass between his hands and glowering into the distance, as if picturing it unfavourably.

      ‘You know, I really would love to come,’ she said.

      He turned to shoot her a look of deep scepticism. ‘I got the impression it wasn’t your type of music.’

      She felt her face heat, embarrassed now by how dismissive her tone had been. ‘Yes, well, perhaps I should give jazz a chance.’ This struck her as funny for some reason. ‘Hey, you should work up a marketing campaign with that as your strapline. Give jazz a chance.’ She guffawed at her own joke, but for some reason Alex didn’t seem to find it funny.

      Grump.

      ‘But seriously,’ she said, rearranging her features back into a sober expression. ‘I really would like to come and support you.’

      ‘Well, that’s very selfless of you, Flora, but I’m afraid the gig’s sold out.’

      ‘Oh.’ This news shocked her. Perhaps he was more successful than she’d realised. She squinted at him suspiciously. Or was he just telling her that because he didn’t want her there?

      ‘Can’t you get hold of extra tickets as one of the band members?’ she asked. Surely he’d be able to swing something? She really wanted to show him some solidarity. She felt sure Amy would have approved of that.

      ‘Nope. Sorry. I’ve already given all of mine away,’ he said, standing up so suddenly it made her start. ‘I’m going to the bar again—want another one?’ he asked, nodding to her much-depleted drink.

      ‘Well, I shouldn’t—’ she hedged. The alcohol had already had quite an effect on her, making everything look a little hazy and causing her to slur her words a little, but it was plain he was determined to have another and she didn’t want to leave just yet ‘—but hey, it’s Saturday, so why not?’

      He gave her a curt nod and headed over to the bar without another word.

      His denial of her request for a ticket to his gig still stung and she pondered how to get him to stop resisting her attempts at being friendly.

      What would Amy have done?

      She probably would have been upfront about the things he was trying to conceal and forced him to discuss them. But could she really talk to Alex like that without getting his back up? She didn’t have Amy’s light touch and easy wit—the woman could have talked the birds down from the trees—and she didn’t want to blow her chance of getting closer to him.

      It was obvious that he needed a friend right now though, judging by the way he wasn’t taking care of his appearance.

      She watched him slouch back over to where she sat, his body language self-assured but just a little bit weary.

      He gave her a questioning look and she realised that she had been staring at him again.

      ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’ he asked with one quizzical brow raised.

      She gave herself a mental shake. ‘Yes, fine. Are you?’

      He blinked slowly. ‘Yes. I’m fine, thanks, Flora.’

      ‘I was just thinking you looked a bit worn out.’

      He sat down, rubbing a hand over his eyes. ‘Yeah, well, I’ve not been sleeping well recently.’

      ‘Hmm, I’m not surprised. It’s been a difficult few months for you, hasn’t it?’

      He shrugged, then took a sip from his drink. ‘I guess.’

      Apparently subtlety wasn’t going to cut it. She considered hedging around the subject of his failed relationship, which Amy had alluded to in her letter, but decided she might as well just go for it and see what happened.

      ‘So are you seeing anyone at the moment?’ she asked, attempting an offhand tone.

      His shoulders stiffened at the question. He folded his arms, then frowned, as if something had just occurred to him. ‘Amy asked you to keep an eye on me, didn’t she?’

      ‘No!’ The lie came out before she had time to modify it. ‘I was just wondering, that’s all. Being friendly and taking an interest.’

      ‘Mmm-hmm.’ He looked at her steadily for one long, loaded moment and she felt her cheeks start to heat.

      ‘Okay, yes!’ she burst out defensively, unable to handle his intense scrutiny any longer. ‘Amy mentioned that you’d recently split up with someone and that she thought you were a bit cut up about it.’

      ‘I see. So that’s why you really called me, is it? To make sure I wasn’t about to jump off the Pulteney Bridge?’

      Flora shook her head jerkily. ‘I wanted to see you so we could talk about Amy. You were the person that knew her best after all.’ There was an uncomfortable beat of silence while