Page 1 of A Siren Song for Christmas

Chapter

One

“Merry Christmas, Mr Marin,” Trent said to the snow-filled air as he strode along the slush-covered sidewalks.

Did that sound all right? Or did my voice tremble? My voice definitely trembled!

He cleared his throat and tried again. “Merry Christmas, Mr Marin. I wish you joy and happiness this holiday season, Mr Marin. It is such a lovely time of year, Mr Marin.”

Trent groaned. “Bollocks and broomsticks!”Why the fuck do I keep saying Mr Marin? He knows his own name!

Trent rubbed a hand over his face. This was why he had to rehearse. So he didn’t sound so bloody foolish when he spoke to Mr Marin in person. Unfortunately, no matter how many times Trent rehearsed, it didn’t seem to help when he actually stood before the siren.

Mr Marin just seemed so poised. So calm and collected. So striking and beyond stunning.

Trent licked his lips. “Did you know the Christmas markets opened today, Mr Marin? I work at them. My family have a stall.I just finished working there and have come directly here on my way home.”

He straightened his shoulders, aiming for confidence. “The Christmas markets are so magical, Mr Marin. Do you have any plans to go to the Christmas markets this year, Mr Marin?”

Fucking frog guts! Stop saying his name!

Trent smiled to the imaginary Mr Marin. “Personally, I love the Christmas markets. I even like going when I’m not working. Perhaps you’d like to go with me sometime?” His voice wavered slightly.

Trent gave a nervous laugh as his confidence faltered. “As, well…ah…as a date.” His cheeks burned.

Because even though he was just practicing on the sidewalk, he couldn’t seem to stop fumbling, stuttering, and acting like the bumbling virginal youth he was.

He let out a breath. It steamed the air in front of his face. Big, fat snowflakes fell from the sky, but his body sweat beneath the layers of his winter clothes.

His hands clenched. “Let’s try this again. But keep it simple this time,” Trent instructed himself. He took a deep breath. “Good morning, Mr Marin. Merry Christmas. I was wondering if you would be interested in going to the Christmas markets with me.” He smiled. Tightly. Unnaturally.

How did one smile naturally? He sighed, shoulders drooping. He just couldn’t imagine the older man being interested in a weak witch who had no life beyond his family and the bakery where he worked. There was nothing interesting about Trent. Nothing at all.

So why would Mr Marin be interested in me?

He swallowed. But if Trent didn’t ask, he’d never know if the siren might return his crush. No doubt it would be safer to keep his mouth shut. But he’d been yearning and pining for months!And no doubt he’d continue doing so unless he did something about it.

Better to put himself out there and find out if his hopes could come to something. Or be rejected. He’d be crushed. Completely. But at least he’d know if he had a chance. And if he was rejected, then at least he could try to get over his foolish crush.

And what was the harm in trying? That was what Trent had been telling himself over and over for the last few weeks. But still, he’d not been able to ask Mr Marin on a date.

Today will be the day! Today I will find my courage.

He’d met Mr Marin a few months ago when he’d entered the Aquatic Horticultural Emporium, which the siren owned. It had felt like he’d been hit by an infatuation spell the moment those big blue eyes fixed on him.

His breath had caught. His mouth had gaped. Every nerve and cell in his body had ignited.

There had been attraction obviously. But it was more than that. And it had quickly spiralled into an obsessive infatuation. He couldn’t understand it. Mr Marin was attractive, of course. But it was more than that.

It felt like the air around the man crackled and tugged Trent closer. And now Trent kept admiring Mr Marin every day when he came into the emporium, whilst trying (and failing) not to stare.

When the siren gazed at Trent, he blushed and squirmed. He found his obsession with the man growing stronger and stronger every moment. These brief minutes interacting with the horticulturist were the best part of Trent’s day. Which honestly was a little pathetic.

He yearned to be more than just a customer to the mysterious siren. He wanted to know more about him.

What did he do in his free time? What were his likes and dislikes? What were his favourite foods? How had a sirenbecome an aquatic horticulturist in Anorra? Did he have a siren song? And what even was a siren song?

But to get any answers, he needed to find a way to spend more time with Mr Marin.