“All the roads between here and the dual carriageway are closed,” Xander said. “And it’s unlikely the snowploughs are going to come out before the morning.”
I groaned and buried my face in my hands. “What are we going to do?” I asked. The snow hadn’t been forecast as far as either of us could see, but none of the staff seemed surprised.
“Comes down unexpected, love,” the barman told me, as though it was quite normal to get snowed in. “No such thing as bad weather, just unsuitable cars,” he’d gone on unhelpfully.
And Xander’s car was completely unsuitable. There was no way it was going anywhere in this, and the snow was still coming down.
“I’ve got good news and bad news,” Xander said. “Which would you like first?” He’d gone to talk to the manager as soon as I’d pointed out the snow to him and the unlikelihood of us being able to get back to York.
“The good news,” I replied, grasping at straws. “Always the good news!”
“We can stay here tonight.”
“At the hotel?”
He nodded. “Yup, and Gus can stay as well.”
“Well I suppose that’s better than trying to sleep in your car,” I said.
“They can provide toothbrushes, shampoo, shower gel, bathrobes, everything we need, even dog food,” he went on. “The only thing is…”
“Here comes the bad news,” I said.
“There’s only one room.”
I stared at him and felt my stomach drop. This suddenly felt like too much. I knew that Missy and Mum had both been right about my needing to get on with my life and I even agreed with them about this lunch date with Xander. I’d been enjoying myself so much that I hadn’t had time to feel guilty and I knew that was a good thing, I knew it didn’t mean that I’d forgotten Joe or loved him any less. But lunch had suddenly turned into sharing a room with a man who wasn’t Joe and I didn’t know if I was ready for that.
“Please tell me it’s a twin room,” I said. My voice sounded small and faraway.
“OK,” he said slowly. “It’s a twin room.”
“Is it?”
“I have no idea, Megan.” He paused and looked away. “I’m really sorry about this.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have let this happen; I should have checked the forecast.”
“There wasn’t any snow forecast until tomorrow, according to the barman,” I said. “Apparently this happens out here a lot though.”
“I’ve only ever been here in the summer before.”
I took a breath and looked out of the window again. The snow was coming down faster than ever and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it. I should be grateful that we had somewhere safe and warm to stay. Joe would have found this to be a glorious adventure and would already have made friends with some of the locals.
But Joe wasn’t here.
“Let’s go and look at this room then, shall we,” I said.
*
“Oh you have got to be kidding me!” I said as I looked at the room that had been allocated to us. Xander stood behind me carrying our coats and Gus, who barked in disgust at the whole situation.
The room was beautiful, with a huge bay window overlooking the gardens of the hotel. A dusky rose-coloured sofa sat in the window with a pile of vintage Penguin books on a table next to it that I was already itching to sort through, and there was a large en-suite bathroom with a free-standing bath. It was the perfect hotel room for a romantic getaway – particularly as right in the middle stood a huge brass bed.
Just the one bed.
Xander cleared his throat behind me and I could see him shift from foot to foot uncomfortably, out of the corner of my eye.
“Only one bed,” I said. “This is Bella’s favourite romantic trope.”
“What?” Xander stared at me.
“Come on, Xander, you’re a writer,” I said. “You know about tropes.”
He shrugged, looking more and more uncomfortable by the minute.
“Romance novels are full of tropes. It’s how the writer gets the hero and heroine together. You can force them to work together, or to go on a road trip. Then there’s the fake engagement or marriage of convenience trope…”
“Like Sebastian and Evie in The Devil in Winter?”
I nodded. “Or,” I said, gesturing at the bed, “you can abandon them in the middle of nowhere with only one bed to sleep in.”
“So we’re living in our very own romance novel.” Xander smirked. He seemed to relax a little then. He stepped a little closer to me. His hand gently brushed my arm. I felt the familiar tingle. There were worse people to be stuck in the middle of nowhere with. “I can sleep on the sofa,” he said.
I looked at the sofa and then back at him.
“The only way you could sleep on that sofa is by folding yourself in half,” I replied. I walked away from him towards the bed. “It’s quite a big bed. We can probably both manage to sleep in it and keep our dignity intact.” As soon as the words were out of my mouth I regretted them.
“Dignity intact?” he asked, but I could hear the smile in his voice and hazarded a look over at him. “I don’t know what romance novels you’ve been reading, Ms Taylor, but keeping one’s dignity intact has never seemed to be top of anyone’s agenda in any of the ones I’ve read.”
“Well in this romance novel our dignities remain intact,” I replied primly. I could see that he was trying not to laugh and then something else he’d said clicked in my brain.
“Hang on,” I said. “What do you mean by ‘any of the ones I’ve read’? You’ve only read A Devil in Winter, haven’t you?”
“I never said I hadn’t read romance novels. You just presumed I hadn’t.”
“Rubbish,” I began, but he was right. He’d never actually said he hadn’t read any, but he’d made it quite clear that he wasn’t a fan.
When I looked at him he was grinning at me. “Don’t worry though,” he said. “I’ll make sure your dignity stays intact. For tonight at least.”
I felt my face burning again and I pressed the palms of my hands over my eyes.
“Oh God,” I groaned. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t suggesting that…”
“As I’m not driving anywhere tonight,” he said, looking as though he was trying not to laugh in my face, “I might go and get a glass of wine. Would you like to join me?”
“I need to call Mum first and let her know what’s going on so she doesn’t worry.”
“Shall I meet you downstairs in half an hour?”
“Sure.”
He draped our coats over the back of a chair and walked towards the door, taking Gus with him.
*
Xander and Gus were sitting in front of two glasses of red wine at a quiet table in the corner of the bar when I came back downstairs.
“So tell me more about these romantic tropes,” he said as I sat down. “Which one is your favourite?”
The bar and restaurant area were quiet and I wondered if anyone else who had been eating Sunday lunch here had got stranded or if they had known the snow was coming. It was dark outside now and the snow sparkled under the hotel’s outside lighting. Inside it was cosy and festive, soft Christmas music played and there were twinkly lights everywhere. It really was terribly romantic if you chose to look at it like that – which my mother had, of course.
“It’s like living in your very own romance novel,” she’d cackled when I’d told her what had happened and about the one massive bed in the middle of the room.
“Don’t you start,” I’d said. “Xander’s already said that.”
“Has he now? I have a feeling Xander Stone knows more about romance novels than he lets on.”
“Yes well, that’s as may be,” I’d replied, remembering his comment about how I’d assumed he didn’t read romance. “Can we focus on the problem at hand, please?”
“I don’t see a problem, love,” Mum said. “You’re snowed in at a beautiful hotel with a handsome man. What more could anyone want?”
“Mum, you know it’s not as simple as that.” I’d felt myself starting to get a little bit panicky. “It’s the first time…”
“I know, my darling.” Mum’s tone had been softer, the laughter gone from her voice. “I know. But you have to spend a night away from the bookshop at some point. This way it’s like ripping off a plaster. And I know he can be a bit brusque—”
“Is that code for rude?”
Mum had laughed. “Yes, I suppose it is.”
“He’s actually been quite nice this afternoon.”
“Well that’s good. How does he feel about the whole sharing a room thing?”
“I don’t know,” I’d replied. “He’s hard to read, but I think he’s a bit embarrassed.” I thought again about how he hadn’t dated for the last few years. This was probably the first time he’d had to share a room with anybody since his divorce.
“I’m sure he is. I’ve always thought those ‘only one bed’ scenarios were more mortifying than romantic, whatever Bella might think. But promise me you’ll have fun at least.”
“I promise to try,” I’d replied.
I picked up my wine glass now and looked into it. “Well,” I replied slowly. “I do love a marriage of convenience.” I looked up at him again. “Ruby Bell is great at those.”
“Hmmm,” Xander replied with a disgusted look on his face. He really did seem to hate Ruby Bell.
“But my absolute favourite is the sickbed trope,” I went on. “When one character has to look after another who is ill or has been injured, usually under duress or out of necessity – that one was in The Devil in Winter as well. Love blossoms in the sick room obviously.”
He looked at me over his wine glass. “Obviously,” he said. “And what about your least favourite trope?”
“Oh that’s easy,” I replied. “Enemies to lovers. I hate it when the characters just snipe at each other for the whole book and then we’re supposed to believe they live happily ever after.”
“But isn’t that the format of many literary greats? Elizabeth and Darcy in Pride and Prejudice, Beatrice and Benedict in Much Ado About Nothing.”
“I am no fan of Fitzwilliam Darcy. He always seemed more trouble than he was worth, and much as I love Shakespeare, I really hate Much Ado About Nothing.”
“Bold statements.”
I grinned at him. “You don’t have the monopoly on strong opinions.”
He put his wine glass down on the table between us. “And what is your opinion on pantomimes?” he asked.
“That’s a weird question,” I said, surprised at the sudden change of subject. “Where’s that come from?”
“I just wondered if you’d like to go to one tonight,” he said. “Apparently it’s opening night at the village hall and we’ve been invited. We can get a lift down on a tractor.”
I stared at him. “A tractor? I’m not exactly dressed for a tractor.” I glanced over at his extremely expensive-looking trousers. “And neither are you.”
“I’ve got some boots in the car that I use for walking Gus sometimes,” he said. “And apparently they have quite the collection of boots at the hotel for guests to borrow. As the barman said, this happens a lot.” He pointed to the snow outside.
“And what about Gus?” I asked.
“Some of the staff are stuck here for the night and are very keen to look after him. He makes friends wherever he goes.” Gus gave a little snuffly growl as though he knew we were talking about him. “I thought it might be fun.” He shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing one ankle over the other.
“I didn’t say I didn’t want to go,” I replied. I sounded scratchy and irritable which, to be fair, I was. But I was trying very hard not to be. I suddenly felt horribly awkward anywhere near Xander and kept thinking about tonight when I’d have to lie in that big double bed with him all night. A pantomime might take my mind off that at least.
“Relax, will you,” he said. “It’s just some snow and a shared room. What do I have to do to convince you I’m not Sebastian St Vincent?”
“What?”
“I promise to keep all my body parts on my half of the bed and my offer to sleep on the sofa remains.”
“What pantomime is it anyway?” I asked, trying to distract myself from the thought of Xander’s body parts.
“Beauty and the Beast,” he replied.
Of course it was.