Blame It on the Mistletoe (18 page)

Yeah, he should have told her everything right away, but in his defense he hadn’t known how to handle it all. They’d just started seeing each other. Everything had been so overwhelming and new, not to mention confusing. He’d never fallen for a woman and he’d certainly never inherited something worth a million dollars before. How would she have handled it?

And now instead of being there making things right, he was here dealing with a bunch of college coeds on their holiday break. He knew for a fact they were drinking heavily and smoking a lot of weed. He’d already threatened them once that there would be no more scheduled activities if they didn’t sober up. It was dangerous and he wasn’t going to have any accidents on his already overtaxed conscience.

The door to the office opened and Paula, the mail lady, walked in. “Hey, handsome, didn’t think you were comin’ back. And no more beard—you getting married?”

He smiled. She was constantly flirting with him, and for a woman ten years older than he was, she had tempted him a couple of times. She was pretty and nice. And available. He got the feeling she was incredibly independent, wouldn’t expect anything in return. It was irrelevant now—the thought of being with another woman just sharpened the ache in his gut. “Not getting married, and I’m back until spring.”

“And then you return to that fishing boat of death, huh?” She laid a stack of mail on the desk. “I don’t know how you do that. But I appreciate the muscles.”

He shook his head. “I had those before fishing.”

She winked. “I’m sure you did soldier. See ya tomorrow.”

“See ya,” he called as she shut the door. He flipped through the pile of catalogs, bills, and invoices. There was a letter from his grandmother. He ripped open the envelope and unfolded the pages.

Alex switched to the other paper, and sure enough there was his name in his grandfather’s scratchy handwriting. He stared at it for a moment. It was dated about a year prior, only few months before the man died.

The paper vibrated in his hands, his fingers shaking. Better than never—yes, that was true. But damn, he’d waited his whole life to feel one ounce of emotion from this man. His mom had done a decent job. Despite her problem with alcohol she’d always managed to work, to keep food in the house even if it was crap. She may not have given Alex everything a young boy wanted—far from it for sure—but she had done the best she could. And now she was alone.

How had this dead man’s words inspired such guilt inside Alex? Because he didn’t want to be the man who had regrets when he was facing the last years of his life.

He thought back to the hurt on Brooke’s face when he’d entered the shop the other day. It had gutted him. Pain, anger, guilt … it had all set in immediately the minute the first tear rolled down her cheek. He had to fix this. He needed to fix it. He wanted Brooke Abbott’s love more than he’d wanted anything in his whole life. More than he’d ever wanted a nice word from his grandfather, more than his mother showing up for a baseball game, more than he’d wanted a reprieve during Ranger school, which was like hell on earth. Right now he felt like he wouldn’t be able to survive without her.

A knock on the door preceded one of the college punks into the office. “Hey man, I think we’re ready to go. We cool?”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Alex said. They were cool, but this would be the last time he led someone on this hike to the zip line. He had to get back to Preston.

“Is that a reindeer or a Wookie?” Brooke asked as she leaned across the kitchen table to analyze Ryan’s sugar cookie work.

“I’ll shove this spatula up your nose if you don’t shut up,” he answered with a glare.

“You two both need to shush.” Their mother stood at the kitchen sink rinsing dishes. “You know if either one of you might consider having babies I wouldn’t have to ask my grown children to decorate the sugar cookies. Hell, at this point I don’t even care if you get married first.”

“Now you’re just lying, Mom,” Ryan said.

“You think so, but if I don’t get a grandchild soon I’m gonna go crazy.”

“Well, with as many woman as Ry—” A hard kick under the table shut her up, and she grinned at her brother. They’d had a good Christmas Eve. Brooke had found the courage to tell her mother about Chad. She’d been shocked, and they’d shared a good cry. However it didn’t take her mother long to get back on the grandbaby bandwagon.

“You’re thirty, Ryan. You’re handsome, have a good job. What’s the deal?” Lane Abbott said, sitting down at the table and grabbing a frosted Christmas tree cookie. As she took a bite, Brooke realized her mother was in rare form this evening.

“You okay Mom? You never give Ryan shit.”

“Watch your language, Brooke, I’m still your mother.”

Brooke and Ryan gave each other a questioning glance. Lane continued. “It’s just … it’s Christmas, and we haven’t had a child in this house to open gifts in ages. What do I need to do, you two? Why did you quit seeing Alex, Brooke? He seemed to turn into a nice young man. So handsome, you would have made beautiful babies with him.”

“
Mom
.” Brooke’s eyes went wide and she glanced at Ryan, he shrugged his shoulders. “We weren’t technically seeing each other.”

“Please. I saw you two at the Mistletoe Ball. You looked so perfect together. Reminded me of your father and me.” Her mother smiled and took another bite.

“Sorry, Mom. I guess it just wasn’t meant to be.” Brooke picked her pastry bag up and squirted little eyes onto her snowman. They’d been decorating cookies on Christmas Eve since she was a child, a long-standing Abbott tradition.

“What about you, Ry?” Brooke wasn’t letting him off so easy. “What’s your excuse for robbing Mom of grandbabies? I mean really, is it too much to ask?”

He rolled his eyes and leveled her with his best cop stare. “That’s enough out of you.”

“Seriously, Ryan, I want to know,” their mother pressed.

He suddenly looked uncomfortable, and not for the first time Brooke wondered if her brother actually had feelings for someone that he wasn’t sharing. He always did tend to keep his emotions very guarded. He was stoic, loyal, a true officer type. She felt kind of sorry for Ryan.—he was so busy worrying about everyone else, but who took care of him?

“I’m sorry, Ryan. It’s none of our business. Right, Mom?”

“Speak for yourself.”

On that note Ryan got up from the table. “I’m gonna head out. I did at least a dozen. I’m on duty in the morning, so I’ll see y’all around two.” And with that he left the house.

“Well, what was
his
problem?”

Brooke shrugged and finished up a few more cookies herself before calling it quits. She’d be back in the morning around ten for her mom’s annual holiday breakfast casserole, cinnamon rolls, and eggnog coffee. Then they had the big dinner with their grandparents later that afternoon. It’s what they always did, and what they’d continue to do probably forever, since nothing in her life ever changed.

She drove back to 100 Main knowing that she would soon have to leave. She’d packed up nearly all of her small amount of personal belongings so she’d be ready to head out as soon as she got the heave-ho. Ironically, the past few days had been a record sales week for her.

True to Callie’s word, Anne’s post of her jewelry on the
My Perfect Little Life
blog had resulted in over thirty orders for Christmas gifts. Brooke had spent several days and a few sleepless nights worried about getting them all out in the mail by the twentieth, but she’d managed to do it.

Overall she felt good about what she’d done on this little business venture. She was proud. She’d worked hard and been successful in her own way. She hadn’t told her parents about the building being for sale yet, but she’d finally realized she didn’t care what they had to say. She didn’t live her life for them or owe them an explanation for any of her choices.

She’d stay with Ryan a few months, pay down her business loan, and maybe find a roommate to get a place with. She’d even talked to one of her consigners and found out about a shop in the West Bottoms in KC that had some space coming available in February. Things could be worse—she knew that for sure—but she still couldn’t help feel a pang of sadness at what could have been.

Parking behind the building she unlocked the back door and made her way up the dark stairs. She forgot to feed Diva that morning, so she flipped on the light in the tiny kitchen and began to fill her bowl. “Diva baby.”

Brooke looked around, surprised that Diva didn’t come running like she usually did at the tinkle of food hitting her bowl. She walked over to the bedroom door, and ran smack into something dangling from the doorframe. She stepped back to find … a mistletoe ornament. Her pulse picked up as she flipped on the light to find Alex Coleman leaning back leisurely on her bed in the soft lamplight.

The traitorous cat was sprawled out across the sexiest man she’d ever known. Like a kitty queen she flicked her tail back and forth in time to his stroke on her stomach. Brooke stepped inside slowly, staring at him, shocked at the sight of him there—in her space, on her bed. In this town.

“Merry Christmas,” he said nervously. Almost a question. Lines of weariness and worry creased his face, and his eyes pleaded with her to hear him out.

Looking at him, Brooke felt her anger chip away. It had started not long after he left, and she’d spent so many days thinking, putting herself in his place. She’d wished she’d heard him out that day in her store, but her shock and anger had clouded any reasonable thoughts. She knew now that this building wasn’t everything, she could start over, build a new store, a new dream, but without him she’d been miserable. This man had made her feel whole again.

She ran across the small room and jumped onto the bed. Diva scattered with an affronted wail and Alex chuckled as Brooke collapsed in his arms. It wasn’t the most graceful display of affection she could have chosen, but she didn’t care.

“Is it safe to assume this means you’re glad I’m here?” he asked against her neck.

She pulled away to see him fully, one hand on each side of his face. “God, yes. I’m so glad you’re here.”

She had so much more to say, but he stopped her with his lips. Flipping them over on the bed so he was on top of her, his mouth explored every inch of hers. It was like kissing him for the first time, because this kiss meant something. It was telling her
I want you,
I came back for you.

“You taste sweet.”

She laughed. “Frosting.”

“Mmmm. I like it.” He nipped at her lips and then finally looked into her eyes. “I missed you, Brooke. You have to know that. I didn’t want to go, I didn’t want to hurt you, I—”

She covered his lips with hers, softly kissing across his mouth and up to his ear. He was breathing hard.

“Please, just touch me, hold me. That’s all I need right now,” she whispered.

He groaned and pulled her against him, rolling them sideways. She was still wearing a puffy coat, and he began tugging at the sleeves in a clumsy attempt to get it off. She sat up and pulled it off herself as he made quick work of his shirt, shoes, and pants. For a moment she rested on her knees watching him, shocked to realize that Alex Coleman, her long-ago crush, was in her bed, and she was not just crushing, she was desperately in love.

He caught her staring, and his face got a little panicked. “What?”

She met his eyes and then slowly stroked his face with her palm. “Nothing. I was just thinking … I was thinking that I—”

“Nope, don’t say it. Me first.”

Her eyes went wide and her heart skipped. She’d waited so long.

**

Alex took a deep breath and leaned up on his elbow. “Brooke, I should have been honest. But I was so confused. I wasn’t sure how I felt about you at first, how everything was gonna play out. This is all new to me. But I know for certain … I know that I’m in love with you.”

He watched as her body relaxed, her bottom lip quivering. He prayed to god that she was about to cry happy tears. Her lips parted and she let out a tiny whisper. “Okay.”