Christmas Spirit: An Enemies to Lovers, Forced Proximity, Age Gap MM Christmas Romance Read online

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Epilogue: One Year Later

  Stalk Me!

  Also by Ali Ryecart

  About Ali Ryecart

  CHRISTMAS SPIRIT

  Ali RYECART

  Synopsis

  Forced together, can past and present enemies become future lovers?

  A lowly kitchen boy, looked down upon and despised by all, sweet-natured Georgie’s a modern day Cinderfella. Roland’s an award-winning chef. Arrogant, frosty, and a silver fox in the making, he’s also Georgie’s boss. The only thing the two have in common is a mutual loathing — and a mutual attraction neither will admit to.

  Cornered into taking a car journey together, they’re soon lost in a sudden, violent blizzard. Their only hope of shelter is to follow a series of signs leading to an isolated hotel… a hotel with a mysterious proprietor, no other guests, but only one vacant room with one very big bed.

  As the snowstorm rages, will the warmth of Christmas Spirit melt the ice between them?

  To find out more about the author visit:

  www.ryecart.com

  Reader Caution

  This book contains strong language, scenes of a sexual nature and references to domestic abuse. It is not intended for readers under the age of 18 years.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. No part may be reproduced, by any means, without the written permission of the author. Names and characters, businesses, organisations, products or services and places and events are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  All trademarks are the property of their respective owners.

  All rights reserved

  © Ali Ryecart

  2020

  Dedication

  For Mark

  Chapter One

  “I told you days ago you should have booked your cab.” Julia tutted, as she turned away and continued loading her luggage into her car.

  Georgie bit back his retort, tingling on his tongue. I was hoping somebody could give me a lift, but I should have known better than to think anybody here might be willing to help me out. A cab from Pendleton Manor, to the train station in the nearest town, was almost twelve miles away. It would have cost a fortune, and a fortune was one thing he didn’t have, and never would, not on his meagre wages.

  “I know, I know. But it slipped my mind because we’ve been so busy here.”

  Georgie crossed his fingers behind his back, even though the slipped my mind part was only a very small white lie. But busy certainly wasn’t.

  The huge pile of redbrick Victorian Gothic that was Pendleton Manor was a top-class conference centre and blue-chip corporate events venue, with sumptuous rooms and suites exclusive to event attendees only. But what it was really known for was its multi-award winning kitchen. It had won every major gong, medal, rosette, star, and crown going, which meant they had been booked out solid for weeks in the run up to Christmas. Corporate weekends and parties had all the staff run ragged. The clients were wealthy and demanding and that put a strain on everybody, including him, at the very bottom of the rung as kitchen boy and all-round drudge. But now, three days before Christmas and just before noon, Pendleton Manor was closing its doors for the next couple of weeks, giving the army of live-in staff a chance to return home for a well earned rest with families and loved ones for the festive season.

  Georgie gazed longingly at Julia’s car, which was small and dinky, a little like Julia herself. Surely she had enough room for him and his battered rucksack? And okay, she’d have to make a detour, but not much of one, to get to the train station…

  Julia was the closest thing to a friend Georgie had at the Manor. As kitchen boy, and the lowest of the low, he was invisible, except when he was being berated by everybody from the bad-tempered and snotty Executive Chef all the way down to the most junior of the waiting staff, for not doing this, or not doing that. He’d tried to make friends, but nobody at the Manor had been remotely interested in getting to know him, and all his efforts had been rebuffed until he gave up trying. All except Julia, who had been nice to him from the first day.

  As Head of Administration and Staffing, Georgie supposed it was part of her job. The thought made him feel a little mean. She had always tried to include him in the various social events she organised for the staff. He’d gone to a few when he first started but, ignored and cold shouldered by everybody, he’d stopped going, telling himself he wasn’t bothered, as he hunkered down in his tiny room with only a battered old radio for company until it, too, decided it couldn’t be bothered.

  “I really wish you wouldn’t do that,” Julia said, her voice huffy and tinged with irritation as she turned and looked at him, planting her hands on her hips.

  “Do what?”

  Georgie knew exactly what she was talking about.

  “You know what. Looking all big-eyed and droopy-faced, like some little puppy that’s just been kicked.”

  Result! It was exactly what he wanted her to think.

  “But you like puppies. You’re always telling me about the dogs your family have.”

  “Yes, I do like puppies, but of the four-legged, furry, and cute variety.”

  “I can do cute.”

  Georgie widened his eyes, giving her his best doe-eyed gaze.

  Julia tried to look fierce as she shook her head, but a small laugh bubbled from her lips.

  “I can’t give you a lift Georgie. Look at all the stuff I’ve got. And besides it’s quite a detour, and with snow forecast for later, I really do have to make a move soon.”

  “But look, there, I could squeeze in.”

  Georgie pointed to the passenger seat, and the tiny, teeniest little bit of spare space.

  “No, you couldn’t, because that’s where these are going.” Julia nodded to what was left of her packing, which included a heavily taped up cardboard box and a battered violin case. “I simply don’t have the room. Have you asked Bernardo, or Annabella? They’ve not yet left and I know their routes take them towards town.”

  “I have, and they can’t.”

  Georgie’s cheeks burned with the memory.

  Bernardo, the head sommelier, had looked down his long and aquiline nose as if Georgie had been something he had stepped in. His snort, and curt no, before he’d turned and walked off, had left Georgie red-faced and humiliated, feeling like a beggar who had been scrounging for a few pennies to buy a cup of tea. Annabella, the restaurant maitre d’, had given him a watery smile, that looked more like a sneer, before shaking her head.

  “Julia, my dear, I was hoping to catch you before you left…”

  The Head of Housekeeping bowled across, greeting Julia in her booming voice. The two women began chatting and laughing, leaving Georgie
standing on the sidelines, ignored and forgotten.

  Georgie sighed as he ran through his options. Other than walking, there were none.

  So much for the spirit of Christmas, he thought. Nobody was prepared to help him out, and the one bus a day that went anywhere near town had been cancelled. Admitting defeat, he had tried to book a cab, earlier in the day, but he was too late. There’d been none to be had — or not until long after his train had left. Twelve miles, with his rucksack. Not that it was heavy because he didn’t have much, and maybe twelve miles wasn’t so bad — on a warm and sunny summer’s day.

  Georgie shivered, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his thin coat as a blast of wind whipped around him. He looked up at the sky. What had Julia said, about snow? There were a few clouds floating in the light grey sky, but that was all. Maybe she’d made it up. Georgie bit down on his lower lip. No, that wasn’t fair. For the second time in a few minutes he was being mean about Julia, when she was the last person at the Manor who deserved that.

  Whether he liked it or not, he was going to be walking. Georgie groaned as he picked up his rucksack and settled it on his shoulders.

  The quickest way to the train station, on the edge of the small country town, the small country town that was twelve miles away, was to go cross country. It would shave some time off but the sensible thing to do was to make his way to the main road, which wasn’t really much more than a country lane, but it was where there might be a chance of hitching a lift. Did people still hitch rides? He wasn’t sure but, the way his luck was going, if they did they wouldn’t be picking him up.

  Georgie looked around at the staff car park. There were five or six other cars remaining, all of them being packed up by their owners. He had approached every single one, and every single one had knocked him back. It wasn’t even as though he was expecting a free ride. He was more than willing to contribute to the petrol, despite having very little money to spare. But nobody had been willing to help the kitchen boy. Christ, he felt like Cinderella.

  Pulling his shoulders back and tilting his chin upwards, he was ready to go. He had his pride and he wasn’t willing to risk another rebuff. Twelve miles. It would take him over two hours, and his train was in three. He could do it, but he needed to make a move.

  Looking up at the sky again, Georgie’s heart fell. Had the sky really darkened, and the clouds turned a deep and dirty yellow in the last few seconds?

  “Julia…”

  Seeing him laden down and the sky looking more threatening by the second, maybe she would relent…?

  Julia ignored him, as she carried on her conversation with the Head Housekeeper. Georgie’s shoulders slumped under what he told himself was the weight of his rucksack. The one person at the Manor who had ever given him the time of day wasn’t doing that now.

  “Happy Christmas,” he mumbled under his breath.

  He turned away and with a heavy tread began to make his way towards the gates that would take him out of Pendleton Manor and on the long, cold trek to the station.

  “Georgie! Georgie, wait.”

  Relief burst in Georgie, warming deep in his chest. He’d gone no more than a few steps, and she had changed her mind, she’d made some room, she was going to give him a lift after all. He turned, a smile lifting his lips, but it fell when he saw who was standing behind her.

  “Roland’s heading in your direction and he’s got plenty of spare room. He’s very happy to give you a lift.” Julia was beaming, but she was the only one who was.

  Roland was happy to give him a lift? Not if that bad-tempered scowl was anything to go by, he wasn’t. But Roland wasn’t the only one who wasn’t happy. No way was Georgie going to endure being stuck in a car with Roland Fletcher Jones, threatening snow or not threatening snow. And twelve miles? He’d walk fifty, or a hundred. Georgie didn’t care that the man looked like a model from a style magazine, or that he had the greenest eyes, or a wide kissable mouth, and a body he would drop to his knees for. Oh, no. None of that mattered, because the man was Pendleton Manor’s resident Head Bastard who had made Georgie’s life hell from his very first day, and everybody had followed his lead. The man was a kitchen God, and had put the Manor on the map, winning it untold accolades.

  Roland Fletcher Jones, Executive Chef and Georgie’s boss.

  Georgie cleared his throat. “It’s all right. I’m preparing for a triathlon, so the walk to the station is part of my training.”

  Triathlon? He couldn’t ride a bike, had failed his ten metres swim at school, and got puffed out even thinking about running.

  “No, you’re not, and no it isn’t.” Julia scowled at him. “Just a few minutes ago you were all but begging me for a lift to the station, which I really can’t give you. But Roland is more than willing to give you a lift. Aren’t you Roland?”

  Julia smiled up at Roland. She may have been small and dinky, with a round, pale moon face and soft curls, but there was steel in her voice and hard determination in her eyes.

  “Yes,” Roland said, through stiff lips.

  “Problem solved,” Julia said, clapping her hands together, her smile triumphant. “Now, I really must get going. You have a very happy Christmas, Georgie, and I’ll see you again in a couple of weeks’ time. Here.” She rummaged in her handbag. “I’ve got you… just a little something…”

  A present? For me?

  Georgie’s heart skipped a beat. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been given a Christmas present.

  “Damnation. I must have left it in my room. I haven’t got time to go up and get it now, so you’ll have to wait until January. It really isn’t very much. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to unwrap on the big day.”

  “Thank you,” Georgie muttered. “It was a lovely thought.” Isn’t very much was a hell of a lot more than the big pile of fuck all he’d have to open on Christmas morning.

  “Right, I’m going.” Julia pulled him into a tight, short squeeze, before she planted a kiss on his cheek. A moment later her over-packed car was trundling down the driveway.

  Taking a deep breath, Georgie turned to Roland.

  The man was as stiff as a plank of wood and his scowl looked like it had been carved into a slab of granite. Pleased to give him a ride to the station? He looked like he’d be more pleased with a bee stuck up his bum.

  “You’re not obliged to give me a lift. I’ll make my own way to the station.”

  Roland huffed. “I am obliged. The woman strong-armed me, but I agreed. If I say I’ll do something, I will. I’m heading out in fifteen minutes, but if you’re not here when I pull the car around, the agreement will become null and void.”

  Roland swung around on his heel and stomped off. Georgie opened his mouth to call out that he didn’t need the lift, just as the first snowflakes fell, withering the words on his tongue.

  Chapter Two

  “Damn Julia.”

  Roland ground his teeth together as he threw the last of his luggage into the boot of his Range Rover. He’d planned on taking a slow and leisurely route back to his house on the south-west fringes of London, stopping for an early dinner at a recently opened but already lauded and critically acclaimed gastropub he was keen to try out. What those plans had not involved was Georgie Forrester.

  Julia had grabbed his arm and stopped him from walking on past, quite literally standing in front of him, hands on hips, and blocking his way. The woman may have been small, round and as fluffy looking as a marshmallow, but underneath she was as hard as a rock. She’d known in which direction his route towards home, albeit in a circuitous manner, would take him, when she had all but instructed him to give the moody and sullen kitchen boy a lift to the station. Julia had been taking no excuses. Your Range Rover’s large and comfortable… It isn’t stuffed full of luggage and Christmas gifts… You’ll almost be passing the station… And Georgie is a member of your team…

  He’d been in a bad enough mood as it was, knowing he was going home to his empty, soulless house w
ith nobody other than himself for company. Now, he was in an even worse mood, as the careful plans he’d made were no longer going exactly how he wanted.

  It’s going to snow… Twelve miles is too far to walk… It will take no time at all… Show some Christmas kindness…

  If she wanted to encourage Christmas kindness, then why couldn’t she have bloody well taken Georgie? But Roland knew the answer to that as soon as he’d seen Julia’s overladen car. He’d been cornered, she knew it and so did he, and now he was lumbered with an unwelcome guest.

  Twelve miles. It would take no time in the car. But he wasn’t prepared to get caught up in the town centre traffic. The boy could get out and walk the last half mile to the station and he could put his well-laid plans back on track.

  Ready to go, Roland drove around to where he’d left Georgie waiting for him. The boy had had as little desire to take the lift as he had to give it. Georgie’s face had fallen as soon as he had seen him, the shadow in his big, smoky grey eyes and the down turn of his red lipped mouth making him look even more sulky than usual. Maybe he’d done them both a favour and decided to walk after all. But no, Georgie was still standing there, and he was standing alone. Every single one of their colleagues had left the Manor to start their Christmas holidays.