After I’d packed the brushes and paints away, I found the urge to carry on lingered. I hadn’t been bitten by the creative bug in a very long time, and I looked about for other things I might be able to freshen up or give a festive twist to.

‘Here you are,’ said Ned, sounding exasperated when he found me rooting about in the stores. ‘I’ve been looking all over for you.’

I knew he had been because I’d been one step ahead of him all morning, dodging out of sight whenever he was in the vicinity. The tactic had worked, until now.

‘Well,’ I said, stumbling as I stepped back over one of the little carts used to move the potted trees about the yard when it was too busy to use the truck. ‘Here I am.’

Ned held me gently by the elbow while I regained my balance and I was so quick to pull myself free, that I nearly went over again.

‘Was there something in particular you wanted me for?’ I asked, eyeing the carts and wondering how I could make them look more Christmassy.

I was surprised Dad had left them unembellished. Practically everything else had some sort of festive themed adornment.

‘No,’ said Ned, pulling his hat further over his ears. ‘Not really. I just wanted to check in. I didn’t see you at all last night and this morning you were out of the lodge even before I was up. You are all right, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘of course. I just like to keep busy. I’m not very good at twiddling my thumbs,’ I added to ensure there was no way he could misinterpret my rising activity rate.

‘Well, the grotto looks great,’ he said. ‘I was beginning to think…’

‘What?’

‘Oh, it doesn’t matter.’

‘No,’ I said, ‘go on.’

He pulled his hat off, ruffled his already mussed-up hair and stared down at me. I forced myself to meet his gaze and wondered if my blue eyes looked as hypnotic to him as his flecked ones did to me. He’s already told you he fancies you, an impish voice in my head reminded me.

‘What were you beginning to think?’ I asked again, sweeping my hair over my shoulder.

I already had a pretty good idea what it was, but wanted to hear him say it.

‘I was thinking,’ he said, finally breaking eye contact, ‘that for someone who claims not to care, you’ve gone to an awful lot of trouble over that mural.’

Yep, that was it.

‘Please don’t get the wrong idea, Ned,’ I beseeched him. ‘Painting the grotto has absolutely nothing to do with me falling in love with Wynter’s Trees.’

It’s all about stopping me from falling in love with you.

‘Right,’ he swallowed. ‘Fair enough.’