Christmas Encounter Read online

  About the Author

  USA Today bestselling author R. J. Prescott was born in Cardiff, South Wales, and studied law at the University of Bristol, England. Four weeks before graduation, she fell in love with a crazy firefighter and stayed in Bristol. Ten years later, she convinced her husband to move back to Cardiff, where they now live with their two sons. Juggling work, writing, and family doesn’t leave a lot of time, but curling up on the sofa with a cup of tea and a bar of chocolate for family movie night is definitely the best part of her week.

  Christmas Encounter

  R. J. PRESCOTT

  PIATKUS

  First published in the US in 2018 by Grand Central Publishing, a division of Hachette Book Group USA Inc. in the anthology Christmas With You

  First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Piatkus in the anthology Christmas With You

  This ebook edition published in 2019

  Copyright © 2018 by R. J. Prescott

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  All characters and events in this publication, other than those clearly in the public domain, are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior permission in writing of the publisher, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  ISBN 978-0-349-42170-4

  Piatkus

  Little, Brown Book Group

  Carmelite House

  50 Victoria Embankment

  London EC4Y 0DZ

  www.littlebrown.co.uk

  www.hachette.co.uk

  Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright

  Chapter One: Jensen

  Chapter Two: Lauren

  Chapter Three: Lauren

  Chapter Four: Jensen

  Chapter Five: Lauren

  Chapter Six: Jensen

  Chapter Seven: Lauren

  Chapter Eight: Lauren

  Chapter Nine: Lauren

  Chapter Ten: Jensen

  Chapter Eleven: Lauren

  Chapter Twelve: Jensen

  Chapter Thirteen: Lauren

  Chapter Fourteen: Jensen

  Chapter Fifteen: Lauren

  Chapter Sixteen: Jensen

  Chapter Seventeen: Lauren

  Chapter Eighteen: Jensen

  For Mum, who showed me that

  there is always magic in everything

  if only you look for it.

  Chapter One

  Jensen

  Paris, France

  “Why don’t we take the party back to my place?” the woman next to me whispered suggestively. The shade of her lipstick matched perfectly with the color of her short, clingy red dress, and her heavily made-up face was flawless. Six months ago, I would have been flattered by her offer. Now, like everything else, it just seemed fake. I wondered if I’d even recognize her without all the cosmetics. Or if she’d bother to give me the time of day if I wasn’t Formula One’s newest rising star. I doubted it, given that we’d been talking for twenty minutes, and the only thing she seemed interested in was my salary.

  My gaze drifted across the sea of partygoers, where celebrities and movie stars mingled either with the rich and powerful, or with those who wanted to be. I sighed deeply, preparing myself to brush her off and for the inevitable argument that would follow, just as my phone started buzzing.

  “Sorry. I need to take this,” I replied, fishing it out of my pocket. The number was withheld, but I mentally high-fived whoever was calling for giving me an excuse to escape.

  “Hello?” I said as I connected the call. A woman spoke to me, but I couldn’t make out what she was saying. The conversation and sound of clinking glasses was loud, so I pushed my way through the throng of people to a set of French doors.

  “Hang on a sec,” I said. Closing the doors behind me, I found myself alone on a small balcony. The tiny space had barely enough room for two chairs, but the view of the Paris skyline was spectacular.

  “Sorry about that. I can hear you better now,” I said to the caller. After a few seconds of silence, I was beginning to wonder if we’d been disconnected.

  “Is this Jensen Caldwell?” the voice asked.

  “It is,” I replied suspiciously.

  “Jensen, it’s Nancy Adler, Ronnie’s wife. I’m sorry to have to be the one to tell you this, but Ronnie passed away today,” she said, her voice cracking with unmasked grief.

  The pain of hearing those words was physical. I sat down hard in the chair as my knees went out from under me. Hunched over, I ran my hand back and forth over my buzz cut, trying to process what she’d said.

  “I don’t understand. How?” I asked, my words sticking in my throat.

  “It was a massive heart attack,” she explained softly, her misery palpable. “He was out walking the dog when he had a cardiac arrest. The doctor said he was dead before he hit the ground.”

  “But he was so fit and strong,” I replied. He didn’t drink or smoke. He exercised regularly. I mean things like this weren’t supposed to happen to people like that. It wasn’t fair.

  “He always had heart problems, but he kept them to himself. His father died the same way,” she explained. I felt shame hearing that. The man who’d been like a father to me had health problems, and I had had no clue. I’d been too busy hopping from race to race and party to party around Europe to care.

  “I’m so sorry,” I confessed. I was sorry for her loss, but my apology was for everything I’d done, everything I’d become over the last year. Now it was too late.

  “Thank you,” she replied. “I know you’re a busy man, but the funeral will be held here next week most likely. I just thought you’d want to know, and I didn’t want you to hear the news from anyone else.”

  “I’ll be there,” I said, and I would be. Nancy preferred to stay at home while Ronnie was on the circuit, so I’d only met her a handful of times, but Ronnie looked at her like she hung the moon. He worshipped her, and maybe it was too late to atone for the sins of my past, but standing next to his wife while she buried the love of her life was the least I could do.

  “Thank you, Jensen. He would have liked knowing you were there,” she told me.

  “Is there anything I can do? Anything that you need?” I asked.

  “It’s kind of you to offer, but I have everything taken care of. I’m just trying to keep busy at the moment so I can get through the next few days. Perhaps … perhaps when you get here you’d like to stop by. I’d like to meet with you before the funeral if that would be okay with you?” she asked.

  I swallowed hard, wondering if sitting down with Nancy would make this whole thing seem more real. I felt like the bottom had fallen out of my world, so I couldn’t imagine what she must be going through. But she might be the only person on earth who could truly understand how I was feeling.

  “I’d like that. Thank you,” I answered. “I’ll stop by when I get into town. I’m in Europe at the moment, so it’s going to take me a while to get to you, but I’ll be there as quickly as I can.”

  “Well, have a safe journey then,” she said. “I’ll text you my address when we get off the phone and the funeral details as soon as I have them.”

  We said our good-byes and, sure enough, my phone buzzed with a message a few seconds later as Nancy had promised. Sliding it back into my pocket, I turned my face
up toward the sky. The pollution of light above the city hid a myriad of stars. I’d spent my whole life sleeping under a blanket of constellations. Knowing that they were always there meant that I had stopped looking up. What had always seemed boring and predictable, I now knew was comforting and reassuring. A shame then that my epiphany only happened when they were gone.

  The piercing laugh of a party guest pulled me from my thoughts. Behind the glass doors, vintage champagne was being sipped from the finest cut crystal glasses, and beautiful dresses adorned beautiful people. The room was a showcase for wealth and power, and I’d been the focus of everyone’s attention. It was everything I ever thought I wanted, and I’d never been so lonely in my entire life.

  Chapter Two

  Lauren

  It was somewhat ironic that I now found myself perpetually trapped in a town called Friendship, yet I’d never really had what you’d call a good friend. Of course I was fully aware that I hadn’t really helped myself in that department. You see, I was a liar. Not by choice of course, but I was a liar nonetheless. A grafter, a thief, a con artist. Call me what you will, but I scammed and stole and did whatever I needed to do to eat. I wasn’t proud of the fact. In fact, I was bitterly ashamed. But the view from the moral high ground wasn’t so attractive when you barely had the energy to walk and your stomach was seized with hunger pains.

  On the rare occasions when I had a hot meal, I allowed myself to indulge in foolish, pointless fantasies. My favorite was the one where I was heavily pregnant, my husband laughing with our three children in the garden of our house by the sea and with the smell of baked goods filling the kitchen of our home as I watched my family play. I’ve never baked a day in my life. But one day, somehow, I was going to learn to bake a cake so big it would feed a family of six for a week. It was a stupid fantasy, and I scolded myself every time I thought of it. Happy ever afters weren’t for the likes of me. Dreaming was dangerous, and I should know better.

  Dumpster diving was just the dose of reality I needed to bring me back down to earth. Everything I’d saved for the last few weeks was gone. No matter how well I hid money, every place we stayed, Dad found it. You’d think a bank would keep it safe, but bank accounts were for people who earned money honestly and had identification. I’d be surprised if Dad even had a birth certificate for me. I knew my age and date of birth because I’d seen him write it on a school admissions form once, but there was a fairly good chance that he’d made it up on the spot. He promised me this time that I could look for legitimate work. But Friendship was a small town, and I had no references. With Christmas around the corner, I felt sure that someone would be hiring, but the locals looked at me with suspicion, and they were probably right about me. I wasn’t honest and trustworthy.

  But I wanted to be.

  By the time I arrived back at the motel, I was tired, hungry, and cold. When I realized that Dad had stolen what little savings I had without leaving me anything for food, I was desperate. Desperate enough to wait for the local fast food restaurant to close before rummaging through their Dumpster in the hope of finding something edible. On the fifth Styrofoam container, I hit the jackpot. The juicy cheeseburger and fries, probably trashed as a wrong order, were still warm. Most people would have gagged at what I was about to do, but I hadn’t eaten in two days. To me, it looked like nirvana.

  “You gonna eat that or just stare at it droolin’?” a voice from the shadows asked me. I screamed and jumped back in shock but still managed to keep hold of my prize. Slowly, the grubby face of an old homeless guy emerged from the darkness. The way he was staring at my dinner made me squeeze it a little tighter.

  “You scared me half to death. What were you doing down there?” I demanded.

  “I was getting some sleep before I was rudely interrupted,” he explained.

  “Behind a Dumpster?” I asked suspiciously.

  “What? You know of anywhere else where folks are less likely to hassle a homeless guy?” he said. He had a point.

  “So, you gonna eat that or what?” he asked me. I eyed the burger and then the homeless guy and sighed deeply. Inside I was crying at the thought of losing half a meal, but this guy looked like he’d been on the streets a while. No matter what the circumstances, there was always someone worse off than you.

  “How about we split it, then I’ll keep searching for more?” I suggested.

  “Well, you sound like an enterprising young lady, and those are my favorite kind. Please, come and partake of my humble abode, and I’ll fetch the linen and silverware,” he said, indicating his cardboard hovel. He bowed like a butler, making me smile. Whoever he was, he was charming. It looked as though he was stockpiling old sleeping bags and blankets, so at least we had something soft to sit on. Sitting down, I left plenty of room as he eased down with a weariness that spoke of old age and aching bones. Splitting the meal down the middle, I handed him his half, and we bit into them together, groaning simultaneously.

  “This is so good,” I mumbled between bites.

  “The best burger I’ve ever had,” he added. All too soon, it was gone, but those precious calories on my empty stomach were heavenly.

  “Thanks for letting me share your pallet,” I said.

  “Thanks for letting me share your meal,” he replied.

  “I’m Lauren.” I introduced myself, holding out my hand. He wiped his own hand back and forth on his coat before shaking mine firmly.

  “Nice to meet you, Lauren. I’m Gabriel, but you can call me Gabe,” he answered.

  “Do you really sleep here?” I asked him. “It’s freezing out tonight. Isn’t there somewhere warmer you could go?” Despite the pile of bedding, I had no doubt he’d feel the cold through to his bones. The snow that had started to fall earlier was now coming down thick and fast. Gabe had propped up a few flattened boxes to form a roof of sorts, and the fence to our back offered a little protection from the wind and snow but not much.

  “Ain’t no homeless shelter in a town this size. Besides, you get used to the smell pretty quick, and it’s safe. Well, as safe as it can be on the streets. Speaking of which, what’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing out here at this time of night?” he said.

  I wrapped my coat around myself a little tighter and shivered as a cold breeze blew down the alleyway.

  “My dad stole my money again, which means he’s spending it at the local bar,” I explained.

  “If he’s there, how come you ain’t home?” he asked.

  “Because when the money runs out, he’ll head back. Sober, I can handle him. Drunk, he’s not so nice. I’ll take a night on the streets over dealing with that,” I explained. A huge yawn came over me. Despite my promise to forage for more food, I was exhausted.

  “Look, there’s plenty of blankets here for both of us. Why don’t you lay your head down and sleep for a bit?” he suggested, regarding me with pity in his eyes.

  “That’s kind of you,” I acknowledged. “If you wouldn’t mind putting up with me while I have a quick nap, I’ll hunt for more food afterward.”

  I lay down on one of the sleeping bags, and like a mother hen, he piled blanket after blanket on top of me before making himself comfortable. My eyes were heavy as I drifted off, but I caught his words as he spoke softly to me.

  “Get some rest, little one. I’ll watch over you tonight.”

  Chapter Three

  Lauren

  I woke to the sounds of a busy kitchen. Groggy and stiff from the cold, I looked around. A small pile of blankets was piled neatly beside me, but there was no sign of Gabe. He’d most likely gone in search of breakfast, and I figured it was probably a good idea for me to do the same. Folding and stacking everything as neatly as I could, I placed the bedding carefully into a box inside the shelter, hoping that would keep it all safe and dry. The bitter chill of winter was in the air, and I shivered as I began the walk back to the motel. Figuring that it was probably safe by now, I peered around the door to our room to find Dad passed out on the sofa
. The stench of stale booze was so overpowering that I could smell him from the doorway.

  A wave of despair washed over me. I wanted so much more for my life. For both of our lives. Dad had yanked me in and out of so many schools that I never really had a chance to make a friend before we’d pack up and move. Running from another one of his scams gone wrong. When I was old enough, he made me a part of them. He said no one would look at my big brown doe eyes and think I was anything but innocent. In his eyes, there was no one more or less deserving of being ripped off. Everyone was a mark. He was an equal-opportunity thief that way.

  I was a penniless high school dropout with no prospects and nowhere else to go. But looking at my pitiful excuse for a father, I knew that I was done with living like this. Today, I would steal for the last time. One more job to buy a few days of food, and that was it. If I had to walk from one end of this town to the other, if I had to beg and plead or offer a free day’s labor to prove myself, I was getting a job. Friendship wasn’t my home, but it would be.

  Snagging my only other pair of jeans, a white T-shirt, and some clean underwear from my duffel bag, I crept to the bathroom. On its highest setting, the useless shower cranked out lukewarm water at pressure barely above a trickle. I emptied a bottle of complimentary miniature shampoo onto my hair. It was cheap stuff, but smelling of apples was preferable to smelling of Dumpster. A pang of guilt hit me as I thought of Gabe. I told myself I’d go back and look for him later tonight so he could come here and shower too. Dad would pitch a fit, but it was the least he could do after the stunt he’d pulled last night. There was always a brief window of remorse when he did something like this, especially if he hit me when he’d been drinking. All too soon he’d forget, though, and it would be back to business as usual. But not for me. Not this time.

  Small towns were for scams and cities for quick tricks. I could stroll through a subway car in a big city and snag four or five wallets before hopping off one train and boarding the next. But the small towns worked better for Dad when he was selling some bogus insurance policy or going door to door selling promises that would never materialize. Looking for a trick in a town like this took time. I hovered in the alley between the bank and grocery store, watching people from the safety of the shadows and mentally crossing each of them off my moral list. If they were too elderly or too young or if they looked like they were struggling themselves, I couldn’t bring myself to do it.