A New Year Marriage Proposal. Kate Hardy

the stalls inside the covered areas were selling Christmas-tree decorations. Carissa browsed through them and bought a snowflake made from tiny white and silver tiles. ‘I buy a new decoration for the tree every year,’ she said. ‘I guess it’s a family tradition.’

      Another reason why Quinn didn’t want to get involved with her. Family traditions really weren’t his thing. Apart from the awful Christmases spent growing up, there had been the Christmas he’d spent with Tabitha and her family. A Christmas where they’d had all sorts of ‘family traditions’ and he’d felt even more out of place than he had with his aunt and uncle. He’d tried his best to fit in, but most of the time it had felt as if they’d been speaking a different language.

      He’d thought that he’d managed to bluff his way through it, but once he’d overheard Tabitha’s older sister talking to her.

      ‘Don’t you think you ought to put the poor thing out of his misery, Tabs?’

      How he’d hated that tone of pity. Condescension. How could she call him a ‘poor thing’?

      ‘Your bit of rough,’ Penelope continued. ‘You brought him home to make the parents squirm a bit and worry that you might actually be serious about him—well, he’s sweet, and he follows you round with those big puppy-dog eyes, but he’s not one of us, and you know you’d never stick it out.’

      ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Pen.’

      He’d walked away at that point, not wanting to hear any more. OK, he might not be enough for Tabitha’s family, but he had been sure Tabitha had loved him. She’d just stuck up for him, hadn’t she?

      How wrong he’d been. He should’ve stayed a bit longer and heard the rest of the conversation. And then he could’ve ended it before he’d totally lost his heart.

      ‘Quinn?’ Carissa said.

      He shook himself. The last thing he wanted was for her to guess at his thoughts. ‘Sorry. I glazed over for a minute.’

      ‘I noticed,’ she said drily.

      ‘Sorry.’ Just to be on the safe side, he changed the subject. ‘There’s a stall over there selling Christmas paninis. Let’s go and get something.’

      ‘My shout,’ she said, ‘seeing as I dragged you out here.’

      ‘I think I can just about afford to buy you a panini,’ he said. And again he was cross with himself. Why was he being on the defensive with her? This was just a hot sandwich. Definitely not a big deal.

      Maybe Carissa had picked up his awkward mood, because she just smiled at him. ‘In that case, thank you very much. Cranberry, Brie and bacon for me, please.’

      He bought himself a more traditional turkey and stuffing sandwich, and used it as an excuse not to talk. They wandered round the bustle of Covent Garden for a bit longer, then headed back to Leicester Square and caught the tube back to Hyde Park.

      ‘So. Proof number one. Verdict?’ she asked on their way back to Grove End Mews.

      ‘I’m not convinced,’ he said, ignoring that unsettling moment in the middle of Covent Garden. ‘It’s not the magic of Christmas—it’s more like the misery of Christmas. Money, money, money.’

      ‘Don’t think I’m giving up,’ she warned. ‘I’m going to teach you to believe in the magic of Christmas if it’s the last thing I do.’

      ‘Princess Carissa, used to getting her own way?’ He knew it was nasty even as the words came out of his mouth, and winced. He was never like this with anyone else. He was known for not saying a lot and just getting on with his job. Why was he so mean and rude to Carissa Wylde? ‘Sorry,’ he muttered.

      ‘No, you’re not. You’re in denial. Secretly,’ she said, ‘I think you really like Christmas, but you just can’t admit it because you don’t want anyone to know that you might have a soft centre.’