Christmas at Butterfly Cove: A delightfully feel-good festive romance!

All she wants for Christmas…

When talented artist Nee Sutherland returns to Butterfly Cove for her sister’s wedding, it’s only a matter of time before she has to face her own bridegroom – Luke Spenser – the man she impulsively married, then left in the middle of the night.

Nee hasn’t picked up her paintbrushes in months, a part of her is broken. She knows Luke might never forgive her, leaving him was the biggest mistake of her life – but could coming home for Christmas be the best decision she’s ever made?

Maybe all she needs is a little Christmas miracle…

A delightfully feel-good festive romance, perfect for fans of Trisha Ashley, Rachael Lucas and Hilary Boyd.

Also by Sarah Bennett

Sunrise at Butterfly Cove

Wedding Bells at Butterfly Cove

Christmas at Butterfly Cove

Sarah Bennett

ONE PLACE. MANY STORIES

Contents

Cover

Blurb

Book List

Title Page

Author Bio

Acknowledgements

Dedication

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-Two

Excerpt

Endpages

Copyright

SARAH BENNETT has been reading for as long as she can remember. Raised in a family of bookworms, her love affair with books of all genres has culminated in the ultimate Happy Ever After: getting to write her own stories to share with others.

Born and raised in a military family, she is happily married to her own Officer (who is sometimes even A Gentleman). Home is wherever he lays his hat, and life has taught them both that the best family is the one you create from friends as well as relatives.

When not reading or writing, Sarah is a devotee of afternoon naps and sailing the high seas, but only on vessels large enough to accommodate a casino and a choice of restaurants.

You can connect with her via twitter @Sarahlou_writes or on Facebook www.facebook.com/SarahBennettAuthor

Acknowledgements

What a crazy, incredible year it’s been – I can’t quite believe we’re here. Huge thanks to everyone who has bought, read, reviewed and supported this trilogy, you are making my dreams come true.

As ever, I couldn’t do this without the support of my husband. Thanks, bun x

Mum, what would I ever do without you? I can’t wait to raise a glass to toast my newest release with you x

To my gorgeous editor, Charlotte Mursell. Working with you is an absolute pleasure. With you at my back I know I can only grow as an author – long may it continue x

Special shout-out to all the bloggers who have helped make my first publishing foray such a resounding success. Your enthusiasm, dedication and kindness is a gift I am incredibly grateful for *insert hug gif here*

And finally, my thanks to you, the reader. This may be our last visit to Butterfly Cove, but don’t be sad because we’ll be able to spend 2018 together in beautiful Lavender Bay!

For M.

We might not be together this Christmas, but you’re the happy ending worth waiting for.

Chapter One

Nee Thorpe stared at the brown oblong of modelling clay sitting on the workbench in exactly the same spot she’d dropped it two hours earlier. The tactile material had always been her favourite medium to work with, but these days the earthy scent of damp clay did little more than bring bile to the back of her throat. After a month staying with her sister, Mia, and her new husband, Daniel, she’d run out of excuses as to why she wasn’t working on anything. Daniel had recently opened a set of bespoke artist studios in the old barns adjacent to his wife’s guesthouse in the idyllic coastal village of Orcombe Sands – known to the local population by the far prettier nickname of Butterfly Cove. They were still taking regular bookings, even this late in the season, with sun-worshippers giving way to the hardier walkers who wanted to make the most of the outdoors before winter set in and kept them closer to home.

Perched on the edge of the cove, at the head of a private beach, Butterfly House had provided a welcome haven for Nee’s tattered spirits. It had also become the new hub of their family. Her middle sister, Kiki, had relocated to the village in the spring, finally escaping her disastrous marriage. With her two small children in tow, she’d not only made a new start, including running the latest family enterprise – a beautiful little teashop and gallery in what had recently been a scruffy-looking garage block – she’d also found a new love in the shape of Daniel’s best friend, Aaron Spenser. Nee swallowed. She should be thrilled Kiki had found happiness with someone who would finally treat her in the way she deserved, and in truth she was. She would just have preferred it if Aaron hadn’t been the elder brother of the man whose heart she’d broken, smashing her own to pieces in the process.

Desperate for a distraction, anything to avoid the lump threatening to choke her every time her eyes strayed to the formless block of clay on the worktable, Nee rinsed her still-clean hands at the sink then pulled the studio door shut behind her. Soft music drifted from the open door of the space next door, accompanied by a deep baritone hum which was enough for her to identify the occupant. Bryn was a broad-shouldered, softly spoken car mechanic who also produced the most delicate, ethereal watercolours she’d ever seen. He was staying for a week and appeared to be relishing the calm serenity of the cove. Not wishing to disturb him, or to be caught up in an awkward discussion of what she was working on, or wasn’t working on as the case may be, she tiptoed past his door then hurried down the corridor to escape onto the gravel driveway which separated the barns and the house.

A quick glance towards the teashop put paid to her hopes of drowning her sorrows in a cup of tea, and she checked her watch. If she was quick, she might still catch up with Mia and Kiki in the kitchen. Tuesday was turnaround day at the guest house, and in addition to running the teashop, Kiki helped out changing the beds and cleaning the rooms.

Opening the back door, she paused to toe off her shoes and caught their familiar voices deep in discussion over arrangements for Aaron’s upcoming birthday. Circumstances had led to her middle sister and her two children sharing a nearby cottage with Daniel’s best friend. After a shaky start, the two had finally admitted to feelings that were obvious to everyone around them, and they were a picture of domestic bliss. The kids adored Aaron, and it sounded as though they wanted to throw him a surprise party.

‘It’s such a sweet idea, especially when you think they came up with it themselves. I just wish things weren’t so awkward, with…you know.’

Awkward. Nee stopped short at the word, her call of greeting frozen on her lips. Heart dropping with a knowing premonition, she waited anxiously for Mia’s response.

‘I know.’ Mia sounded sympathetic and resigned in equal measures. ‘But we can’t keep ignoring the situation.’

Kiki sighed. ‘You’re right, but I don’t want them thinking I’ve manufactured a situation to force them to face each other. But how can we possibly have a party for Aaron without Luke there?’

Nee sagged against the cool plaster wall, shivering from more than the cool air gusting through the open door behind her. The soft, familiar voices of her sisters continued their discussion, but she couldn’t make out the words over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears. Tightness filled her lungs and the walls of the cloakroom seemed to constrict around her. She had to get out. Had to get away. Reaching blindly for a jacket, she spun on her heel and fled across the grass. A bitter voice whispered in her ear. That’s right. Run away, just like you always do.

Nee huddled deeper into the padded jacket she’d borrowed from the row of pegs beside the backdoor at Butterfly House. The sleeves hung past the tips of her fingers, and the material smelled faintly of the kind of citrusy scent that spoke of aftershave rather than perfume. She hadn’t stopped long enough to examine her choice, just grabbed for the first one her hand reached as she flew out of the kitchen and into the beautiful, sprawling garden behind the guesthouse. Her headlong flight carried her down the flagstone path to the short flight of steps leading to the beach. Only once her shoes sank into the soft, pale sand did she slow her frantic pace.

The thick fleece collar blocked the worst of the wind howling in across the open water, and she narrowed her eyes against the sting of sand whipped up by its fury. The approaching storm transformed Butterfly Cove from a seaside idyll into a wild, desolate space. The normally gentle waters churned and roiled as though a monstrous beast twisted below the surface. Gone was the peaceful blue blanket she’d grown accustomed to over the summer, replaced by a murky, green-grey morass. Dark clouds scudded across the sky, and the first icy drops of rain hit her raw cheeks. It had to be rain because, after the past few weeks, Nee was sure there wasn’t a tear left inside her.

The rain fell harder – fat, cold drops that soon plastered her short blonde hair flat against her skull. Her face began to ache, a combination of the harsh bite of the wind and the desperate clench of her jaw. Everything was such a bloody mess, and she had no one to blame but herself. Luke had committed no sin, unless falling in love with her could be considered a sin. A bubble of hysteria formed a tight knot at the top of her chest. He would probably consider it more of a curse. And who would blame him when she’d done the unthinkable and left him alone in their marriage bed without a word.

Her decision to leave had made sense at the time. They’d acted impetuously; wouldn’t be the first couple to confuse a heady rush of lust with something deeper. Better to make a quick break, go out on a high before the humdrum reality of life crept in and shattered their perfect fantasy. The hurt would fade, leaving behind fond memories of a foolish summer of love. All perfectly sensible and rational conclusions, and every one a complete and utter lie. The moment she’d seen him staring at her across the platform, the one hope she’d clung to, that Luke had moved on without her, had been destroyed. She’d put her own ambition before his heart, and ruined both their lives in the process.

‘One cannot make true art without first suffering, my dear.’ The only voice she hated more than her own guilt intruded on her thoughts, and Nee raised her hands to her temples. She squeezed her fists into the sides of her head, as though applying the right amount of pressure could force him back into the skittering darkness of her deepest subconscious. It didn’t help. The moment she let her guard down, he was there.

Staring out across the tossing waves, Nee could almost sense him reaching out across the miles to drag her back across the ocean. ‘I won’t come back. You can’t have me!’ She shouted her defiance. The wind swooped to snatch her words away, stealing her strength with it. Dropping to her knees on the wet sand, she lowered her head and acknowledged the truth. Devin Rees had stolen the most important thing from her, leaving nothing but an empty shell behind.

Even if Luke could be persuaded to give her another chance, what could she offer him? She stared down at her shaking hands. Short nails edge with raw skin. Stubby fingers bereft of any traces of dark clay. An artist who couldn’t create – was there a more pathetic kind of creature? Putting pen to paper to help her niece make the place cards for Mia’s wedding had been an exercise in torture.

Staying in Butterfly Cove, watching week in and week out as her former peers descended on Daniel’s studios to paint, carve, sculpt and hammer beauty from nothing had become an exercise in self-flagellation. The thought of sitting in the sweet, cosy warmth of Kiki’s new teashop, gorging on slabs of cake which were masterpieces in their own right, as the visiting artists added new pieces to the planned gallery collection, might just break her.

There was nothing here for her. Mia and Kiki tried their best to help her, but she kept them at arm’s length. She didn’t want their sympathy, feared even more turning it into something harder, colder, if they discovered the reason she’d left Luke. They would continue to love her, of that much she was certain, but Kiki’s loyalties were already divided between her sister and the brother of the man she loved. The conversation she’d overheard earlier had made it crystal-clear. It hurt Nee to be the cause of any distress to her middle sister, who’d borne the brunt of so much already. But it hurt even more to watch her unfolding joy and contentment in the arms of the man who reminded Nee of everything she’d lost.

No. Not lost. Thrown away. Lying to herself had caused this ugly mess. There could be nothing but truth from now on. Nee would not become a millstone for her sisters to bear. They’d been happy before she’d shown up, would be happier once she left again, regardless of how much they would protest otherwise.

And, most important of all, she owed it to Luke.

She’d usurped his place here in Butterfly Cove and it was time to give it back. Never one to indulge a sulk for long, Nee gave herself a mental kick in the arse and forced her cramped body to stand. The lower half of her jeans were soaked, and her bones ached from the cold and rain soaking her skin. She folded down the collar of the coat, the once-cosy fleece now wet and clinging unpleasantly to her cheek. Shoving her frozen hands into the depths of her pockets, Nee trudged across the beach towards the beckoning warmth of the guest house.

A hot shower and a change of clothes did wonders for her outward appearance, though they couldn’t help much with the growing coldness inside her. Telling herself she needed to leave was one thing, but where the hell could she go? Not back to London, that was for damn certain. She’d find herself making excuses to hang around the places Luke liked to go, the way she had in the intervening weeks between her return from New York and her fateful decision to attend Mia’s wedding. Perhaps the answer lay in finding somewhere new…

Energised by the idea, she hurried down the remaining stairs and into the private sitting room Mia had created away from the guest spaces. The large wooden bookcase in the corner was stacked high with myriad different books, and she knew her brother-in-law had an old atlas somewhere around. She’d seen him pouring over it with Kiki’s little boy, Matty, the other weekend. Bursting into the room, she pulled up short. A white-faced Kiki clung hard to Mia’s hand while their older sister frowned and nodded at something the person on the other end of the phone pressed to her ear was saying.

Kiki glanced up and Nee could see the tear tracks on her cheeks. ‘It’s Mum,’ she whispered.

A wave of relief washed over Nee, followed swiftly by a sharp stab of guilt. Of the three of them, her relationship with Vivian was the most fractured, having never known the kindness and care she’d been capable of before her alcoholism had dug its claws deep. The two women sitting opposite her had, to all intents and purposes, raised her. Given her more than enough love to buffer their mother’s neglect and their father’s indifference. She crossed the room to sit cross-legged on the carpet in front of them, placing a hand on Mia’s knee in silent support.

Kiki leaned towards her. ‘She’s taken a turn for the worse,’ she whispered.

‘What else did the doctor say, Dad?’ They both turned towards Mia, who was staring off into the distance, uttering soothing noises as she listened to George’s response. The curve of her shoulders increased, as though the words she heard had a physical weight to them. Nee patted her leg, wishing there was something she could do to help. Mia sat up straighter, spine going ramrod-straight. ‘Okay. I need to sort a few things out and then I’ll be up first thing.’

Nee closed her eyes. Mia to the rescue, just like always. She dug her fingers into the rich pile of the carpet beneath her. An image of the sitting room, all warm creams and soft browns with splashes of rich red, filled her mind’s eye. She thought about the other rooms, the stylish bedrooms, the cosy warmth of the kitchen, each one a testament to the beautiful home Mia had built from the ashes of her past. Love and laughter infused every corner of the guesthouse. Just a few short weeks since their beautiful wedding, Mia and Daniel should be on their honeymoon, but they’d postponed it to throw all their energies into the guesthouse and studios. They had enough on their plates as it was without facing the prospect of spending time apart so soon.

Decision made, she opened her eyes. ‘I’ll go.’

Chapter Two

Luke Spenser tapped on the frame of the kitchen door to get his mother’s attention. She glanced up with a quick smile, then finished sliding the roasting tray into the oven. ‘Beef,’ she said before moving to the sink to rinse her hands, turning her back to him in the process. ‘It’s your brother’s favourite.’

A quick handful of steps carried him to her side, and he leaned down to brush a kiss against her cheek. ‘Thanks, Mum.’

She looked at him through veiled lashes, and he wondered what was going on inside her head. Aaron had been tight-lipped about his visit home a couple of weeks’ previously, other than to say it had gone better than he’d expected. It would take time to bridge the gap between the two of them, but at least they were both trying. And Luke couldn’t ask for any more than that.

When Cathy had called, asking if he’d come down for an early birthday lunch for Aaron, he’d been happy to accept. Happier still when his dad had taken him to one side and told him it had been her suggestion. He squeezed her shoulders in a quick hug, noting the tension in her stiff frame. He kissed her cheek again. ‘I thought I’d take Aaron down the road for a pint. It’ll get us out from under your feet for a bit.’

He didn’t miss the flicker of relief in eyes. ‘That’ll be nice. I don’t suppose you’ll get much time together now he’s settling down with Kiki.’ There was a hint of a question in her tone, and he wondered whether she knew he hadn’t been back to Butterfly Cove since Mia and Daniel’s wedding. The work to convert the garages into the teashop had been straightforward enough that no one had questioned his absence. Daniel had called him a couple of times to clarify a point with the designs he’d drawn up, and Aaron had brought an album full of photos from the grand opening last weekend.

‘Things are really picking up at work, and now the last of the conversion works are finished, there’s no need for me to visit Butterfly Cove so often.’ He forced a laugh. ‘Besides, although it’s lovely down there in the summer, I’m not sure I fancy staying somewhere so exposed to the elements now the weather’s on the change.’

Cathy reached for a tea towel and dried her hands before turning to face him. ‘It sounds lovely, from what Aaron has told us. I hope to see it one day.’

‘Give it time, okay?’ He knew with things still so delicate between them, Aaron was unlikely to bring the old and new parts of his family together.

His mum tilted her head to one side and studied him carefully. ‘Is that what you’re doing, too? Giving things time?’

Damn it. Aaron must have told them about Nee. He crossed his arms over his chest. ‘Don’t. Okay?’ His tone brooked no argument.

She opened her mouth, caught the glare he threw at her, and closed it again with a nod. She glanced at her watch, breaking the tension between them. ‘I’m aiming for half-two for lunch. No crème de menthe.’

Luke shook his head and laughed. ‘You’re never going to let that go, are you?’ His parents had gone away for the weekend, leaving a twelve-year-old Luke in Aaron’s care. With nearly five years between them, his brother had seemed impossibly grown-up. When Aaron snuck a couple of friends round for drinks, Luke hadn’t wanted to miss out. He’d raided the drinks cabinet, a bottle of the mint liqueur the first thing his hand closed around.

Aaron had nursed him through his first, and, to this day, worst hangover, and though shaky, he’d been able to face his parents when they returned on the Sunday evening. Aaron’s hours on hands and knees, scrubbing at the bright-green stain on the peach bathroom carpet had proven less successful. Despite Luke’s protestations, his big brother had taken the blame. And Cathy had been all too happy to let him. She’d refused to leave them alone in the house for years afterwards, making it clear she couldn’t trust Aaron to be responsible. The fact she could make a joke about it now was little short of a miracle.

Cathy placed her hand on his chest, smoothing a non-existent crease from the front of his navy T-shirt. ‘Your dad and I are here, if you need us.’

He covered her hand with his and gave it a squeeze. ‘I know, Mum. I’m fine, though. It’s water under the bridge.’ Releasing her fingers, he walked away before she could read the lie on his face. His thick, grey hoodie hung over the bottom of the banister, and he shrugged it on as he called up the stairs. ‘Pub?’

‘Pub!’ Aaron’s enthusiastic response was followed by the thunder of footsteps on the landing above. His brother jogged down the stairs, a wide grin on his face. ‘You’re not as thick as you look, are you, Spud?’

‘Wanker.’ Luke aimed a punch at his brother’s arm. Aaron clutched his arm, staggering down the hall with an exaggerated cry of pain.

Their father appeared from the living room with a folded copy of The Sunday Times in his hand. He gave them both a playful swipe with the paper. ‘Silly sods, the pair of you. Don’t be late back, all right?’

Aaron pulled his jacket down from where he’d hung it neatly on a peg. The contrast between the care he took to do everything right and Luke’s own casual disregard struck him anew. Things might be thawing, but it would be a long time before Aaron would feel completely comfortable in what should be the safest of spaces. Luke shrugged off the tinge of melancholy. ‘You coming with us, Dad?’

Brian shook his head. ‘I’ve got a date with a vegetable peeler, and then I’m going to check out the apple trees, see if I can talk your mum into making a crumble for pudding.’ There was a small cluster of fruit trees at the end of the garden, cookers, not eaters.

Luke’s mouth watered at the thought of hot crumble and custard. It was another of Aaron’s favourites and he knew then his dad’s casual comment was to try and play down how much work Cathy was putting into the planned lunch. ‘Sounds great. I’ll see if they’ve got a couple of bottles of that Cabernet Mum likes. It’ll go nicely with the beef.’

‘Good lad.’ Brian hooked his arm around Luke and drew him close for a quick hug. He did the same to Aaron, adding a kiss to his cheek. Their dad had always been demonstrative, no stiff-upper-lip backslapping or awkward handshakes, and both his sons had carried that naturalness and warmth into adulthood.