Harriet's Christmas Wish - Chapter Two by Alison Henderson

The minute he stepped through the doorway, Bryce’s gaze landed on Marnie and stuck. He hadn’t seen her in more than ten years, but she still had the power to make him forget everyone else in the room. Her silky auburn hair was pinned up in some kind of twisty thing instead of loose across her shoulders as he remembered, and a few faint lines fanned out from the corners of her emerald eyes, but he had never seen a more beautiful woman.

A beautiful woman who was staring at him as if he’d sprouted horns.

As soon as he could slip away from the throng of well-wishers waiting to shake his hand and welcome him back to Boulder Bay, he went in search of Marnie. He found her alone in the break room refilling a tray of cookies.

“Marnie, I know this must be a shock to you,” he began.

She glanced up with a tight smile. “You have no idea.”

“I told Henry not to keep the announcement secret, but he insisted everyone would be thrilled. You don’t look thrilled.”

“It’s just a surprise, is all.” She picked up the tray and turned toward the door.

“I’d hoped you’d be happy. After all, we’re old friends.”

Old friends who were once so much more.

“It’s nice to see you again, after so many years, Bryce. Now, if you’ll let me pass, I need to get these cookies out to the food table.”

He ran one hand through his hair and released a frustrated sigh. “We’re going to be working together, seeing each other every day. I don’t want this to be weird.”

She raised one brow, and a tiny smile tickled her lips. “I’ll promise not to be weird if you will.”

His heart jumped, and he grinned and stepped aside.

Bryce spent the weekend moving into his new apartment and picking apart his decision to leave his job in the Emergency Room of a gritty urban hospital to return to tiny Boulder Bay. He definitely wouldn’t miss Detroit, but what would it be like to work in a small family practice clinic with people who had known him only as Bryce Archer, all-state star linebacker? He’d headed off to the University of Michigan on a scholarship and stayed for medical school, with only brief trips home. Now he was back to stay. He hoped.

The official transition date was January first, but Dr. Carrington had invited him to work alongside him for the last two weeks of December to get used to the staff and patients. Bryce enjoyed seeing old high school friends, several of whom brought their children in with assorted coughs, bumps, and bruises. He didn’t even mind the members of his mother’s book club who made appointments for “check-ups,” when he knew all they really wanted was to check him out.

He just wished Marnie would relax around him.

She was always pleasant but seemed to make a point of being needed elsewhere whenever he was with a patient. Not that he minded working with Shirley, the other nurse, but she’d been at the clinic as long as he could remember, and it was hard to maintain a professional relationship with the woman who had given you booster shots when you were ten.

At around one-fifteen on the Friday of his first week with the practice, Bryce was in his office between patients, stuffing down a ham sandwich and struggling to enter his notes from the morning’s appointments into the unfamiliar computer record system.

He was ready to stick a pen in his eye when a soft knock sounded, and his door opened. Marnie stuck her head in. “Dr. Carrington said you might need some help.”

He tossed the pen into his empty coffee cup in frustration. “I’d hoped it wasn’t that obvious.”

She huffed out a breath. “It took him almost six months to master the new system. I’m sure he just wants to shorten your suffering.” She walked around behind him and leaned over his shoulder. “Let me take a look at what you’re trying to do.”

He tried to pay attention to her staccato instructions and swift mouse clicks, but the light, spicy scent of her hair and the soft pressure of her breasts against his back drove every other thought from his mind.

After ten minutes of torture, he covered her hand with his to still its frenetic movement. “Let’s save the rest for another time. My head is spinning.” Which was true.

She withdrew her hand abruptly and straightened. “Okay. Another time.”

As she turned to leave, he caught her wrist. “You don’t have to leave just because my brain has reached its limit of techno-speak. Have you had lunch yet? I’d be happy to share.” He waved the untouched half of his sandwich as if it were filet mignon.

Marnie hesitated, glanced at her watch then longingly back at the sandwich. “I accept, but only because I’m starving.” She took the sandwich and plopped down in the chair across from him. “We’ll have to make this quick. The next patient is due in fifteen minutes.”

They munched in silence for a couple of minutes, then Bryce cleared his throat. “I am sorry, you know.”

She swallowed and met his gaze with a frown. “Sorry? About what?”

“About the way things ended between us.”

Her mouth tightened. “Things didn’t ‘end between us.’ You went off to school and disappeared from my life.”

He winced at the sharp edge in her tone. “Between football and my pre-med studies, I got so busy I could barely keep up. I let my personal life slip away.”

“You let me slip away. I thought we were in love. I thought we had plans.”

Her accusation stung. “Marnie, be fair. We were just kids. We had no idea what we were up against. Long distance relationships are hard. I’m sorry I didn’t make more of an effort. I’m sorry I stopped calling. I’m sorry I didn’t handle it like a man.”

She sighed, and her small, rueful smile melted his budding kernel of resentment. “You’re right. I’m not being fair. I guess I’d saved those words up for ten years and had to let them out. At any rate, life worked out for both of us. You’re a doctor now, and I…have Poppy.”

The hint of sadness in her voice gave him a twinge. “I’m also sorry about your husband—Tom, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. Thank you.” She blinked a couple of times then gripped the arms of her chair and pushed it back, rising to her feet. “I have to go now. Thanks for the sandwich.”

And she was gone.

Bryce followed her with his gaze, certain he could have handled the conversation better, but not sure how.

A couple of hours later, he pulled the chart of his next patient from the clip on the outside of the exam room door and gave it a quick glance as his hand turned the knob.

Poppy Faraday.

He frowned, wondering why Marnie hadn’t mentioned her daughter had an appointment that afternoon during their brief lunch. But then, they hadn’t had much time for conversation. Chart in hand, he opened the door with what he hoped was a warm, friendly smile. Children were always apprehensive coming to the doctor’s office, and sick children even more so.

A small girl with bright red hair sat on the exam table hugging a slightly shabby and obviously well-loved stuffed rabbit. Marnie’s sister Livy sat in the chair beside her.

Bryce nodded at Livy then turned his attention to the child. “Hi, Poppy. I’m Dr. Archer. How are you today?”

“I have an earache.” Poppy’s voice was small and soft.

“We’ll have to see what we can do about that.” He carefully inserted a lighted otoscope into her right ear and whistled his best imitation of a bird call.

Poppy tried to turn her head. “What’s that?”

“I’m not sure, but I think you might have a bird’s nest in here.”

She giggled. “That’s silly. Besides, it’s the other ear that hurts.”

“I see.”

Satisfied her right ear was healthy, he checked the left. The eardrum was mildly inflamed, and he could see fluid behind it. As he was removing the otoscope, the door opened and Marnie stepped in.

She hurried to Poppy’s side, slipped an arm around her narrow shoulders, and gave her a little squeeze. “How are you feeling, sweetie? Aunt Livy called me and said you have an earache.”

Poppy nodded.

Marnie sent Bryce a questioning glance.

He slipped the otoscope into his pocket. “At this point, she just has a mild inflammation. I’d hold off on antibiotics for now and stick with a mild pain reliever unless the discomfort gets worse. I think she’ll be fine.”

Marnie nodded then gave her daughter another squeeze.

Bryce pulled a cherry-flavored lollipop from the stash he kept in another pocket. “Poppy, do you think your bunny would like a sucker?”

The little girl gave him a don’t-be-ridiculous look. “Harriet doesn’t eat candy. It makes her fur sticky.”

“How about you?”

“Oh, I eat candy—when Mommy lets me.” She glanced at Marnie, who nodded. Poppy accepted the treat. “Thank you.” She pursed her lips, tilted her head, and gave him a long, appraising glance. Then she smiled. “You’re nice. Harriet thinks so, too. She wonders if you could be Mommy’s friend. Mommy’s sad a lot, and Harriet thinks she needs a new friend for Christmas.”

Bryce raise his brows. “Your bunny thinks Mommy needs a new friend for Christmas?”

Poppy gave a solemn nod.

               Bryce raised his gaze to Marnie. Her face was the color of Poppy’s sucker. Biting back a smile, he turned a serious face to the little girl. “Thank you, Poppy. I’d like to be your Mommy’s friend.”

The Mistletoe Kiss - Part Three by Diane Burton

Part Three

Though dinner passed in a flurry of excitement, at least on Bethany’s and Flo’s part with George grinning happily, Sam watched Abby as she pasted a smile on her thinned lips. A smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Though she made a production out of moving the food around on her plate, he knew she’d eaten little.

When she started to get up, Bethany announced, “Mom, sit. You cooked. Grandma and I will clean up.”

“Me, too,” George added. “I’ll help, if you ladies don’t mind.”

As the others grabbed bowls and platters, Sam held up the bottle of wine to Abby. “There’s a little left. Would you like to finish it?”

She glanced around at the empty table. “Sure. I could use something stronger, though.”

“You aren’t pleased.” He poured the last of the wine into her glass.

“Surprised.” When her cell chirped, she pulled her phone out of her slacks’ pocket.

“I’ll get you a stronger drink.” As Sam scooted behind her, he glanced down at her phone.

George Watson checks out A-Okay. No worries for your mom. Report to follow via email. Merry Christmas! – Alex, O’Hara & Palzetti Investigators.

“What is that?” He pointed. “You had my dad investigated?”

“Shh.”

“Don’t you shush me.” Sam felt his blood pressure escalate. She’d sicced an investigator on his dad?

“Let’s go outside.” She rose and grabbed his hand. “Sam and I are going for a walk,” she called to those in the kitchen before hauling him to the front closet. “Please don’t make a scene.”

“Me? Make a scene? Why would you think that?”

When she rolled her eyes at him, he knew his sarcasm had gotten through. Bundled up in hats, gloves, coats, and boots, they headed outside. The snow had stopped and the sun, though low in the sky, made the trees sparkle. The fairy tale scene was lost on him.

“You had my dad investigated?” he repeated when they reached the sidewalk. He brushed aside a twinge of guilt.

“When I got home from the jail yesterday morning, all I knew about your dad was that he and my mother had been arrested and were spending Christmas in jail. At the time, I thought it was your father leading my mother astray.” As he sputtered at the unfair accusation, she added, “Note, I said thought he’d led her astray. I know better now. Anyway, I called my girlfriend Alex who is a PI. Can you blame me? I had to protect my mother. Father left her comfortably well off. For all I knew, your father could be a gold digger.”

Sam threw his head back and laughed. If she only knew. “Dad doesn’t look like much, but he’s pretty well off himself.”

More than well off. With several patents to his name and a smart attorney, Dad was a millionaire several times over. “I suppose I should tell you, I did the same.” Despite the cold, his ears burned.

They’d circled the block. At Sam’s announcement, she stopped in front of her mother’s house. “What do you mean you did the same? The same what?”

“When Dad started dating Flo, I had her investigated. Alex is quite thorough.”

“You what?” She stooped to retie the boot laces—although he couldn’t figure out why since they were going inside.

“You heard me. I hired Alex O’Hara. She does a good job.”

As Abby rose, she let loose a round, white ball. Smack into his chest.

“You know this means war.” With an evil laugh, Sam grabbed a handful of snow and packed it well. As he threw it, she dodged. The snowball clipped her shoulder.

“Bring it on.” She fired another ball and got his ear.

They flung a barrage of snowballs at each other. Finally, he lunged for her and brought her down. Her fall was well cushioned by the snow that had fallen two nights ago and that which had fallen since last night. “You will pay for that last one,” he said in a falsetto. “I plan to have children someday.”

She dumped a handful of cold stuff down the back of his collar. “Someday? You’d better hurry. Someday is about to pass you up. Ooh,” she shrieked as his handful of snow went down the V-neck of her holiday sweater.

With strength that surprised him, she managed to roll him over then sat astride him. “Did you say war? You ain’t seen nothing yet, mister.” With a girlish giggle, she rubbed a handful of snow in his face.

“What are you two doing?” Flo stood on the front porch, hands on her hips. “Get up before someone sees you acting like children. What will the neighbors say?”

Eyes twinkling, Abby scrambled to her feet then reached down to help him up. “Oh my, yes. What will the neighbors say?”

When he clasped her hand, he laughed softly. “Can’t have that.” He scooped her up in a fireman carry and headed for the backyard.

“You two behave yourselves,” Flo called out.

“You’d better let me down, Sam Watson, or you’ll be sorry.” She pounded on his back.

With all her struggling, her jacket had pulled up as well as her sweater, exposing a delicious strip of skin. He couldn’t resist. Using his teeth to remove a glove, he scooped some snow off her jacket and, oh so carefully, trailed it along that strip.

She shrieked and wiggled so much, he had to drop her . . . in a big snowbank. This time, he straddled her. “Uncle?”

“Never. Soldiers never give up. Or in. We never cry uncle. We make war.” While she protested, she gathered two hands full of snow.

Before she could throw it, he stretched out on top of her. “I’d rather kiss than make war.”

He lowered his head, making sure his lips hovered over hers. “What do you say? Kiss or war?”

Her eyes darkened, not in anger. In anticipation. She wanted that kiss. Thank God. He brushed his lips against hers. A deep sigh ran through her as she raised her arms to loop them around his neck. Oh, yeah. Her lips softened, drawing him in.

Something wet and cold was shoved down the back of his neck. With a yelp, he scrambled off her. She lay in the snow mound, laughing, as he shook off the snow.

“You are a menace,” He groused. “A sneaky menace.”

“Poor baby.” She got up. “Want some help?”

He checked her hands. “I’d rather have another kiss.” When she hesitated, he added, “Only a kiss, Abby.”

After hesitating for another moment, she said, “I’m not sure if I’m ready for more than that.”

“I can wait until you are.”

Looking out the kitchen window, George turned to Flo. “They’re kissing again.”

“Wonderful.” Flo leaned against him.

“Gross,” Bethany said. “They’re too old for that stuff.”

George and Flo just laughed. “Never too old.”

I hope you enjoyed The Mistletoe Kiss. For more stories that take place in the fictional town of Far Haven, Michigan, read The Case of the Bygone Brother (An Alex O'Hara novel) and The Case of the Fabulous Fiancé, both available at online retailers. Coming soon: The Case of the Meddling Mama.

Please return tomorrow for Barbara Edwards’ story, The Magic of Mistletoe.

The Mistletoe Kiss - Part Two by Diane Burton

Part Two

From his father’s stories, Sam Watson knew more about Abby Ten Eyck than she probably wanted. Intense, driven. Abby had inherited much from her conservative, workaholic father. Sam knew all about being driven. Though his ulcers had healed, he remembered the consequences of his former life. Other than her brief marriage against her father’s wishes, she’d toed the straight and narrow, running her gift shop as if it were a Fortune 500 company—the same approach she applied to cooking Christmas dinner. The woman rarely laughed. He’d hoped a quick kiss under the mistletoe would help her ease up, maybe even make her laugh. Instead, he’d made things worse.

“Do you feel your mother is betraying your father by loving mine?”

She started beneath his hands. He’d kept them on her shoulders when he wanted to wrap them around her. He’d never fallen so hard for a woman. Especially a woman he’d formally met yesterday. Or maybe learning about her from his dad and her mother over the past two months had drawn him in. Meeting her in person, wearing a sleepshirt over faded jeans and her bare feet stuffed into flannel-lined clogs, had clinched it. Or maybe it had been her wildly-tousled brown hair. Not the usual tightly-bound bun or French twist she wore at the store. Even today, she’d scraped back her hair into a clasp at the base of her neck.

“Not really. Father has been gone for over five years.” She turned beneath his hands to look up at him, surprise and sadness in her deep blue eyes that reminded him of Lake Michigan on a summer’s day. “Everything has happened too fast. She never told me she was dating. I guess she wasn’t playing bingo all those nights.” She ended with a bitter laugh.

Sam had to chuckle. “Nope. Unless ‘playing bingo’ is a euphemism for the horizontal mambo.”

“Oh, please.” She shivered. “That’s an image I could do without. Thanks for the coat. We should go in. You must be freezing, and I need to check on Christmas dinner or we’re all be going to Denny’s or the Chinese Buffet.”

“Hang on a minute.” He stopped her from opening the back door. “My father loves your mother very much. I’m glad he found someone who makes him happy. Mom’s Alzheimer’s took a lot out of him. Out of both of us.”

She reached up and touched his cheek. “I am so sorry. I didn’t know.”

Sam captured her hand. “How would you? We hardly know each other. I’d like to remedy that.” He searched her gorgeous blue eyes.

When she jerked her hand away and averted his eyes, disappointment raced through him. He had a long way to go before she stopped being so skittish. Before she trusted him. Damn that ex-husband.

Warmth and cooking aromas greeted them as they went inside. At the stove, George turned from stirring something and raised his eyebrow at Sam. “Everything okay?”

“Abby needed some fresh air,” Sam said before she spoke. “She’s been working in the kitchen too long, while we were all goofing off.”

“Oh, Mom.” Bethany hugged her. “I’m sorry I didn’t come out and help you.”

When Flo chimed in, Abby snorted. “You all offered, but you know me. I like being in charge.”

And that was the crux of her problems. Sam knew exactly how that felt.

“Now, where are we?” Abby lifted lids on pots and gave the turkey—at least a twenty-five pounder—sitting on the counter next to the stove a long look. “I take it Tom is done?”

“Yep,” Bethany said. “The little thingee popped up right before the timer rang. Before you ask, ten minutes ago. I scooped out the stuffing, and Grandma started the potatoes. After Mr. Watson took out the turkey, he said it has to rest.”

“George, dear. You can call me George.”

The five of them in a one-butt kitchen kept running into each other. Still, they managed to bring all the food—enough for three times as many people—out to the formal dining room. A cheery red tablecloth covered with white lace held five place settings of Spode Christmas Tree dishes. Sam swallowed hard. His mother had the same set. He wondered if his dad had the same feeling of loss. Even though, physically Mom had been gone for four years, she’d mentally left them two years before that—the reason Alzheimer’s was called the long good-by.

As he set the large turkey-laden platter in the middle of the table, he glanced up at his dad. Unshed tears swam in his eyes. He remembered.

Sam had taken a step toward his dad, when Flo bustled out with a crystal cut-glass bowl of cranberry salad in one hand and a pale green fluffy one in her other. “George, please take this before I drop it.” She held out the glass bowl of green fluff. “Wait until you taste my Watergate Salad. It is so refreshing.”

“Watergate? As in Nixon’s Watergate?” George exclaimed, to which Flo replied, “Yes, silly. It’s a salad they serve there.”

“Coming through. Hot gravy. C’mon, Mom,” Bethany called over her shoulder. “We only need the rolls.”

Abby followed with a holiday towel-covered red basket. “I’m coming, I’m coming.”

“Oh, my goodness.” George shook his head. “What a feast.”

A feast was right. So different from the last four Christmases when he and Dad grazed an assortment of appetizers all day rather than make a traditional meal. The holidays always hit them hard. Sam was surprised that Dad had accepted Flo’s invitation to dinner. He’d never accepted Aunt Grace’s invitations.

As soon as everyone sat, Flo insisted they hold hands for the blessing. Sam clasped Abby’s while she held George’s. Sam liked that she sat between them, as if she belonged in their family. If his dad had his way, she would. Soon.

“Heavenly Father, bless my loved ones gathered together at this table.” Flo gave George a big smile, before sharing it with the rest of them. “Two families about to become one. Bless this food and the hands that prepared it. Amen.”

Everyone echoed the “Amen.” For several moments, as the food was passed, nobody spoke. Then, Abby said, “Mother, what did you mean about two families becoming one?”

“Last night, George asked me to marry him.”

Please return tomorrow for Part Three.

The Mistletoe Kiss by Diane Burton

I was thrilled the Roses decided to use this first sentence for our stories. Last year, my story ended with a kiss under the mistletoe. Here’s what happened next.

Part One

This was the absolute last time she kissed anyone under the mistletoe. As she and Sam broke apart, Abby’s cheeks burned hotter than the steam-filled kitchen.

First Bethany gasped “Mo-ther!” with all the exasperation seventeen-year-olds could muster. Then Mother and her boyfriend—could you really call a seventy-year-old a boyfriend?—George showed up, both grinning widely.

George slapped Sam on the back. “Hehehe, son. Better watch out for those Ten Eyck women. Just ask me. Now get out of the way and let me have some fun.”

With a playful poke, George elbowed Sam out of the doorway and took his place. With a move straight out of a 1940’s flick, he dipped Mother over his arm and planted a steamy kiss on her. Abby hoped she hadn’t had that dopey look on her face when Sam finished their kiss.

“Go, Grandma!” Bethany cheered.

Abby fumed. It was okay for her grandmother to kiss under the mistletoe but not her mother? She would have words with her daughter when they got home. Strengthening her resolve, Abby repeated her vow not to let anything spoil their last Christmas in the home she’d grown up in.

Our last Christmas.

Damn. Tears gathered behind her eyelids. She had to get out of there before she embarrassed herself further. Ignoring her mother’s giggles, Bethany’s cheers, and George’s antics, Abby raced to the back door and yanked it open. Blessedly cool—make that cold—air hit her along with a spray of snow. She stepped out onto the wide back porch, pulling the door closed behind her. God, what a mess. And she didn’t mean the blizzard blanketing Far Haven and most of West Michigan. Starting last night, the winds howled off Lake Michigan. Though the winds had diminished that morning, the snow kept falling. At least ten inches, according to the weather report that morning. More by now, eight hours later.

She wrapped her arms around herself, holding in her grief. If she let the tears fall, they’d freeze on her cheeks. Tears for a house. How ridiculous. Grief for her childhood home? A tear escaped. With freezing fingers, she swiped at it.

For the past month, she’d tried to convince her mother not to sell the old Victorian in Far Haven’s historic district. Did her mother listen? Of course not. Did her mother ever listen to her? Yeah, right.

A blast of heat enveloped her. Someone had opened the door.

“Go back inside, Bethany. I’m fine.”

“Not Bethany.” The deep baritone rumbled behind her.

Sam Watson. The man she’d met at the jail when they’d come to rescue her mother and his father, neither of whom wanted rescuing. That’s when Abby discovered her mother had a boyfriend. And met his son, aka Mr. Tall, Dark, and Sexy, according to Bethany.

“Same message. Go back inside.” Abby didn’t bother to hide her displeasure at Sam’s presence.

A heavy coat landed on her shoulders. “Flo is worried about you. So is Bethany.”

Nobody called her mother Flo . . . until George and Sam came along. Father thought nicknames inappropriate. He certainly didn’t approve of her nickname. “If we wanted you to be called Abby, we would have named you that.”

“I’ll bet they’re worried. Mother is more anxious that dinner will burn.”

“I think the three of them will make sure it doesn’t. Dad isn’t too bad in the kitchen.” Sam kept his hands on her shoulders, on top of the coat, generating a different kind of heat. “Did I upset you with that kiss?”

Upset her? Hell, yes. She’d liked it. More than liked it. His kiss that started out playful had turned into something more intense and awakened long-buried wanting inside her. A longing that embarrassed her more than Bethany’s exasperation or George’s teasing. What had she been thinking to succumb to a kiss under the mistletoe? From a guy she’d met in the wee hours yesterday morning?

When she turned her head to tell him to leave her alone, she realized it wasn’t her coat around her shoulders. She should have known since it was so long the cuffs covered her hands. The rich leather felt buttery smooth against her cheek. Besides the smell of leather, she caught a hint of sandalwood and outdoors. Like a forest. Not pine but something—

“I’m sorry.” Sam rubbed the top of her shoulders. “Not for kissing you, which I liked very much. I embarrassed you. And for that I am sorry.”

“I should go back inside.”

His hands held her still. “It’s beautiful out here. The first time Flo invited me over, I fell in love with the gardens.” He scoffed. “Me. A condo guy. I didn’t realize how soothing a beautifully-designed garden could be.”

“Mother has a green thumb. That is such a cliché, but it’s true.”

Mother’s pride and joy had always been her flower beds. As a Master Gardener, she’d arranged the flowers so something bloomed from early spring to late fall. Although she had a lawn-mowing service, Mother never let anyone touch her garden. The new owners would probably destroy the garden. Too much work.

“I can’t believe she wants to sell this.” Abby waved her hand to include the backyard plus the huge garage. At one time, it had been a carriage house, large enough for two coaches and four horses to pull them. Now the garage held her mother’s red Mustang convertible, the outdoor furniture, and Father’s workshop, with room to spare.

“That bothers you. A lot.” He stated the obvious. “She’s starting a new life, with my father. I think that bothers you more.”

She nodded. “She kept saying the house and property were too much to keep up. I didn’t know about your father until the two of them were arrested.”

Sam laughed. The way he was holding her, back against his chest, she felt the rumble of his amusement vibrating behind her. She wished he would let her go. She didn’t like the feelings provoked by a man holding her. A man kissing here. Fifteen years of going without holding and kissing. Without longing for more.

Ferret Face had killed that part of her.

Please return tomorrow for Part Two.

Christmas Destiny Part Four by Jannine Gallant

Teetering a little, Fritz stretched from the highest rung of the low step ladder to settle an angel atop the tree. Her gossamer wings caught the glow of the blinking lights in a kaleidoscope of color. Backing down again, he fisted his hands on his hips and smiled at Shay. “I’d say we did a terrific job.”

“The tree is beautiful.” Her voice caught. “Thanks for putting it up and nudging me into the Christmas spirit.” Folding the ladder, she set it aside then neatly stacked the empty ornament boxes.

“My pleasure.”

He sat on the couch facing the tree and picked up the coffee she’d doctored with a shot of Baileys. Maybe more than one shot. He was on his second cup, and a comfortable warmth encompassed him. He wasn’t sure if the alcohol in the drink, the roaring fire or the extremely fine woman who’d been giving him speculative looks all evening was responsible. Nor did he care.

“Come sit down.” He patted the leather cushion next to him.

Shay dropped onto the couch then lifted her own mug from the end table and held it between her palms. Silvery gray eyes regarded him with interest. “So, why did you have a Santa suit in your truck?” A smile curled her lips. “Did you misplace your sleigh, or have you got a hot date with an elf?”

He choked on his coffee. “The only date I have is with you—on Christmas Eve. Or so I’ve been told.” He grinned. “Whether or not it’s hot remains to be seen. As for the suit, I was going to play Santa for the kids at the party, so I picked one up on my way here. Bridget’s idea.”

“You’re a nice guy, Fritz.” She scooted a little closer until her knee touched his leg. “I’m beginning to think your sister’s suggestion was an excellent one.”

His brows shot up. “What, you have a thing for men in red velvet?”

Her laughter rang through the room. “Not that suggestion, but the right man might be able to pull it off.” She edged even closer. Taking his mug, she set both cups back on the table. “I’ve never dated a man who wears velvet.”

The warmth inside him erupted into a blaze as she leaned into him. Not that he was complaining. He slipped an arm around her waist. When her breath caressed his cheek, his control snapped. Burying one hand in her hair, he tilted her chin with the other. Their lips met in an incendiary kiss.

Dampness touched his face. With an effort, he fought the urge to push her down on the couch and reluctantly pulled away. A tearful gaze met his.

“Are you crying?”

She wiped a hand across her eyes and sniffed. “No.”

The blatant lie would have made him smile—if he hadn’t been feeling lower than pond scum. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” She put a good foot of leather between. “This was all my fault.” A harsh breath slipped out. “Maybe some of it was your sister’s fault since it was her idea.”

He frowned as the fire crackled and snapped in the quiet room. “I don’t get it.”

The expression in her eyes held pure misery when she turned his way. “I caught my boyfriend—make that ex-boyfriend—in bed with another woman a few days ago.”

He stiffened. “I’m happy to beat the crap out of him for you. Just tell me where he lives.”

She gave him a watery smile. “Thanks, but he isn’t worth your skinned knuckles.”

“Uh, is this guy the Vance Bridget referred to?”

Shay nodded.

“And the payback my sister mentioned would be…”

“You.”

The clock ticked then chimed ten times.

“I take it you changed your mind?”

A few more tears slid down her cheeks. “I like you too much to do that to you.”

His face heated. “Uh, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have complained. I’ve never actually been involved in payback sex, but it sounds—”

“Petty and childish? Stupid and hurtful? Not exactly what the Christmas spirit of giving is all about?”

“Maybe not precisely what I was thinking, but sure.”

She stared at the tree and scowled. “Want to know why I’m spending Christmas alone?”

“I did wonder.”

“My family planned a trip to Hawaii, Kauai to be precise.”

“Hey, that’s my old home turf.” His voice brightened. “Sand and surf instead of a blizzard.”

“Kind of ironic, don’t you think? We could have met on a beach. Instead, we ran into each other in the snow-filled woods.”

“We were fated to meet.” He smiled. “Our Christmas destiny.”

“Seems that way.” She smiled back. “Anyway, I bailed out of the trip at the last minute because I thought Vance was going to propose. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.”

He slid halfway across the empty space between them and covered her clenched fist with his hand. “I’m really sorry you were hurt.”

“So am I.” She turned her hand over and squeezed his fingers. “You know what?”

“What?”

“Meeting you made me realize I deserve better. Vance always put his own needs first. No way in hell would he have done something as selfless as dressing like Santa Claus for a bunch of kids.”

“I’ll admit the idea didn’t thrill me at first…”

“But you were going to do it anyway.”

“I still will if I can get the dirty tire prints off the jacket.”

She smiled. “That’s what I’m talking about. You’re nice. I want nice.”

He slid closer and pulled her against his shoulder. Her thick auburn hair caressed his chin. They sat in silence as the clock ticked away the minutes.

“Did Bridget tell you I’m not going back to Hawaii? That I’m thinking about settling down somewhere around here? I write middle school adventure books for kids. I can pretty much do it wherever I want.”

“Why would you leave your tropical paradise if you enjoy it so much?”

He let out a breath. “I needed a complete change after my fiancée got cold feet and left me standing at the altar a couple of months ago.”

Her head jerked around as she met his gaze. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope. Maybe my sister figured a little revenge sex would be good for me, too.”

“Oh my God, we’re quite a pair.”

He tightened his arm around her. “I’d say we’re a pretty good match.” He tilted her chin to look into eyes that held far less pain than they had only minutes before. “Shay?”

“What?”

“Let’s forget about payback sex, at least for now. Let’s start with a date on Christmas Eve and see where it leads.”

She nodded. “I like that idea. I like it a lot.”

“After all, the holiday season is about new beginnings.” He dropped a light kiss on her lips then smiled.

       Her breath caught. “No reason we can’t both start over—together.”

I hope you enjoyed my contribution to The Santa Suit Chronicles. Have a merry Christmas!

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Christmas Destiny Part Three by Jannine Gallant

Shay’s stomach did a little flip when a soft knock sounded at the door. Fritz? Had he changed his mind about hanging out for a while? She hoped so. Her friend’s brother was unbelievably handsome and sweet and…a bunch of other adjectives she had no business imagining after knowing the man for less than an hour. She set down the cup of cider she’d just poured then ran a hand through hair flattened by her knit hat. Walking across the cabin, she pulled open the door. The bells on the wreath adorning it jingled.

Halleluiah. He’s back! “Couldn’t resist the thought of Christmas cookies?”

His smile was tentative. Doubt shadowed eyes the color of a deep alpine lake. “Slight problem.”

“Oh?” She motioned him inside then shut the door behind him.

“A tree fell across the road about a quarter mile from here. If I hadn’t learned my lesson about driving in a whiteout, I’d be picking pine needles out of my teeth right now.”

Her breath caught. “Are you okay?”

“Seeing that monster crash down in front of me might have scared a few years off my life, but otherwise I’m fine.” He cleared his throat. “The road’s blocked.”

“I’ll call to report it. I’m sure they’ll send a crew out to clear it away. Sit.” She pointed to a stool at the bar counter separating the living area from the kitchen. “I’ll pour you some cider.”

Minutes later Shay hung up the phone. Her stomach, along with other parts, did a few more gymnastic moves as she turned to face him. “Apparently that wasn’t the only tree the wind took out this evening, and since this isn’t a high-traffic road…” She gave a little shrug.

“They aren’t in any rush to get here.” His lips firmed. “I was afraid of that.”

“Sometime tomorrow was their best estimate.”

“If I borrow your skis…”

“You’d end up getting lost in the dark and freeze to death.” She let out a slow breath. “You’ll stay here tonight.”

Those blue eyes warmed. “You’re comfortable with that?”

He was Bridget’s brother. He seemed like a good guy. She wasn’t worried Fritz would turn into a sex-crazed lunatic at the sight of her dressed for bed in a pair of flannel pajamas. Her only concern was whether or not she could resist him. He’d taken off his jacket while she was on the phone. A thermal, waffle-knit shirt stretched across an impressive chest. Her imagination was working overtime picturing the muscles molded beneath the soft fabric.

Shay licked dry lips. In short, she wasn’t the least bit comfortable.

“Of course I’m comfortable. You’re more than welcome to stay.”

“Thanks.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the only sound the ticking of the mantle clock above the crackling fire.

She tore her gaze away. “Um, I should bring in more wood then start dinner.”

“I’ll carry in a supply.” He reached for his jacket, draped over a second stool.

“Thanks. The wood is stacked along the side of the house.”

After shrugging on his coat, he glanced around. “I like your home. Cozy.”

“It’s small, but then I don’t need a lot of space. I’m afraid I don’t have a guest bedroom.”

“No problem. I’ll sleep on the couch.” He nodded toward open boxes of ornaments left in an empty corner of the room. “You don’t have a tree.”

“I might go cut one tomorrow, though it seems kind of pointless with just me to enjoy it since I’ll be alone for the holiday. I did put up the rest of my decorations.” She gave a half-hearted arm sweep toward the living room.

Pinecones, candles and cedar boughs graced the mantel on either side of the clock, crocheted snowflakes dangled from the front window frames, and a nativity scene covered a small end table beside the long, leather couch.

“A tree is mandatory…and you aren’t alone anymore.”

His expression warmed her to her toes and stayed with her while he hauled in logs and she heated the homemade minestrone soup she’d prepared the day before. When he went back outside after filling the wood box, Shay wondered why. She was tearing lettuce for a salad to go with the soup when he blew in with a swirl of snow, dragging the noble fir behind him.

With a grunt he settled it into the stand she’d left beside the ornaments. “Perfect size.”

“Fritz, you can’t! That tree is for your sister’s house.”

“Sure I can. They already have one in the living room. This one was for the family room, but I think Bridget can spare it.” He glanced over. “Which reminds me…I should call her. She’s probably wondering what happened to me. Do you mind if I use your land line. I don’t get any cell service out here.” His smile was self-deprecating. “I discovered that when I got the truck stuck.”

“Go for it.”

Shay tried not to listen to his conversation but couldn’t help herself when his cheeks took on a rosy hue.

“Uh, yeah, she is.” His gaze shot her way before he turned his back. “I’m not going to tell her…” His voice trailed off. “Fine. See you when they get the tree cleared.” He put the phone back in the cradle.

“Was Bridget worried?” Shay slid a loaf of crusty French bread into the oven to warm.

“Not really.” He snorted. “She sent you a message.”

“Oh?”

“She said to tell you that you should use this opportunity to pay Vance back in kind. Whatever the hell that means.”

Shay turned with a knife gripped in her hand. “Your sister said that?”

“Yep.”

She sliced through a tomato then chopped it into little pieces. “Not a bad idea. Not bad at all.”

“Do I even want to know what you’re talking about?”

She laid down the knife then smiled at him. The smile turned into a snort of laughter. “Your sister’s crazy, but if I work up the courage to follow her advice, you’ll be the first to know.”

“I will?”

       She nodded. “And if I do, this could be a Christmas neither one of us ever forgets.”

You've come this far... The conclusion of Christmas Destiny will be posted tomorrow!

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