Stuck On You (A Christmas Novella) (7 page)

Sheila couldn’t say he was rude, but he wasn’t the fun-filled man of a few minutes earlier. She gently pulled her hand from his. “Okay. I’m going to see what kind of toys they have for cats.” She walked away from the puppy section of the store in search of the cat items.

The store felt festive like the rest of the mall. Decorations hung from the ceiling and along poles throughout the store. Over the cash register, she noted several sprigs of mistletoe dangling over the cashier’s head. A sign hung on the pole beside her read, Beware of the Mistletoe—You Never Know Where It Might Be Hanging. The price tag on it was unreadable from where she stood.

Sheila shook her head. That sign didn’t even make sense. She continued through the store. She couldn’t believe all the Christmas items they had for animals. She saw Santa hats made just for dogs and cats. Sweaters for all kinds of animals hung on end caps. She ventured past a cage where little brown, raccoon faced Ferrets sported red, silver, and green jingle bell collars. A smile touched her lips. Chrissy wouldn’t be too happy with her if she brought home one of those.

She located the cat aisle. In search of a fun toy, Sheila walked past the colorful collars, food dishes, and various food and treat books until she came to the right section. This store had every kind of entertainment a cat lover could imagine, from climbing and scratching posts to little dangly toys.

Sheila picked up a peacock feather that had a bell tied to it with long ribbons. The jingling sound reminded her of Morgan’s elf hat. She wondered briefly if he’d signed Noel up for the obedience class yet. As if just thinking about him brought him to life, Morgan stepped around the corner and sked, “What kind of cat do you have? I saw a sweater back there that says, ‘Merry Christmas.’

The sales gal says if you have a mild cat it would make the perfect Christmas gift.”

The twinkle was back in his eyes. Whatever had bothered him earlier seemed to have vanished like the scent of evergreen after Christmas morning. “Chrissy is not a sweater-wearing type of cat.” She could just picture her feline ripping to shreds anyone who tried to put a sweater on her. Not a pretty picture.

“Not laid back enough, huh?” He picked up a mouse with a long tail.

“Afraid not. She’s more of the ‘I’m the queen, not now’ type of cat.” Sheila put the peacock feather away. “She’s really not very playful at all.”

Morgan came closer to her and grinned. He stood so close she could smell the earthy scent of his cologne. “What about you? Are you the playful type?”

“I think so. Why?”

A smile touched his lips, and he pointed up.

A sprig of mistletoe hung over her head. “Trapped by mistletoe, what’s a girl to do but pucker up?” With that, Sheila pursed her lips, closed her eyes, and leaned toward him.

She let Morgan take her gently in his arms and kiss her, right in the middle of the Pet Connection. She’d read somewhere that a twenty-second kiss told a person how much you loved them. Sheila allowed herself the luxury of melting into his arms and kissed him back.

It might have been twenty seconds before he pulled away, but she couldn’t be sure. Morgan looked into her wide eyes and smiled. “Thanks. I enjoyed that.”

Heat filled her cheeks, and she confessed, “So did I.”

A teasing glint entered his now smoky blue eyes. “Well enough to go to dinner with me tonight?”

Chapter 9

So this is what it feels like to date someone on a regular basis, Sheila thought as she tossed another discarded outfit onto the bed. She and Morgan had been going out regularly every evening for the past week. He’d taken her to dinner one night, and a romantic carriage ride in downtown Snowbound another night. Last night they’d gone to a play rehearsal at his church then out for hot chocolate.

Tonight they were going Christmas caroling with the singles group she’d met the night before, and Sheila couldn’t decide which sweater to wear. She stared at the remaining clothes in her closet. Knowing it would be really cold, she settled on a green wool pullover. It wasn’t her prettiest, but it would be the warmest, she decided.

She finished dressing and moved into the bathroom to apply makeup and fix her hair. If her clothes couldn’t be pretty, she’d make sure her face and hair looked nice. A smile touched her lips as she looked at her reflection. If anyone had told her three weeks ago how silly she’d act over a man today, Sheila Fisher would have laughed. But now here she stood in front of the mirror, trying to make herself look as good as she could for Morgan.

Since their first kiss, he’d been nothing but a gentleman. He’d kissed her good night a couple of times. She’d forgotten how cold it was outside and just enjoyed spending a few minutes on the front porch with him. As she applied a light layer of lip gloss, Sheila thought about her feelings for the artist. She loved when he called her on the phone “just to chat.” His laughter warmed her insides as no one else’s could. For the first time in her life, Sheila felt sure she was falling in love.

The ringing phone drew her from the romantic thoughts, and she laughed as she hurried to the living room and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”

“You sound happy.” Morgan’s warm voice filled her ear and sent a shiver of delight down her back.

She sat down in one of her plush armchairs. “I am.”

“Because I called?”

One of the things she loved about him was his playful banter. “Well, honestly I was happy even before you called.” She twisted the cord with her index finger and smiled.

“You were thinking of me, weren’t you?”

“As a matter of a fact, I was. Are you wearing your elf outfit tonight?” she teased.

“Oh, you cut me to the core. You were only happy because you thought I’d be wearing that silly costume.” He moaned into the receiver.

She laughed.

“No, seriously I called because I have to break our date tonight.”

Disappointment filled her voice. “Oh?”

“My mother has invited me to come out for dinner, and I told her I would. I’m really sorry. I don’t see my parents enough, and, well, you know how it is. Can we go out tomorrow night? I really am sorry.”

Why couldn’t he invite her to his parents’ with him? Sheila wondered but didn’t ask. “I can’t go tomorrow night. I promised Sarah I’d watch the kids for her.” She heard the sound of a beep on his end of the phone.

“I’m sorry, Sheila. That’s Mom on the other line. I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.”

They hung up with swift good-byes. Sheila dragged her feet as she walked slowly back to the bedroom and pulled off the wool sweater. She dressed in a pair of gray sweatpants and a long-sleeved, pink, oversized T-shirt. She put the clothes back in her closet. Scooping up Chrissy, she walked back into the living room. “I guess it’s just you and me tonight, Miss Chrissy.” She set the cat down on the armchair.

It bothered her that Morgan hadn’t invited her to his parents’. Didn’t he feel the same way about her as she did him? She walked into her kitchen filled with gingerbread men. Turning on the teakettle, she pulled down her favorite mug and the container that held her hot chocolate.

Sheila didn’t know how to answer her own question. It wasn’t as if they’d been dating for months. He may not have any feelings at all for her other than someone to have fun with. She sighed.

Morgan hated letting her down like that. He could have kicked himself when his mother called to remind him dinner would be at seven. His parents wanted help putting up their Christmas tree. It was tradition, and he knew without asking that his mother didn’t want a stranger coming along with him.

Sheila wasn’t a stranger to him, but she was to his parents. He knew his mother would never have agreed to share what she called her “special evening” with him, so he hadn’t even asked.

Any other night, she would have welcomed Sheila, but not tonight. He sighed.

The more time he spent with Sheila, the more he wanted to spend with her. She was sunshine on a cold day to him. He pulled into his parents’ driveway.

He noticed a new red car sitting in the drive and wondered when they’d purchased it. Morgan knew it didn’t belong to either of his brothers, because neither one of them had mentioned the new wheels when he’d talked to them on the phone.

As he walked to the door, Morgan made the decision to tell his parents about Sheila. He wondered what they would think of him when he told them he’d fallen in love. They’d probably be shocked since he and Sheila hadn’t known each other very long, just a few weeks, but when he told them God was in control, Morgan knew they’d accept Sheila into their family. He was thankful his two brothers were both out of town or he’d get the ribbing of his life. They would never understand love at first sight.

He laughed as he entered the house. It hadn’t been love at first sight but was pretty close. Morgan closed the front door behind him and hung his coat on one of the hooks by the door. “Mom, Dad?”

“We’re in here, son,” his father called from the den. “Your mother has decided to put the tree up in the den.”

“Well, I just think it will be cozier in here this year,” his mother said.

Morgan saw that several boxes of decorations and the Christmas tree box had been brought down from the attic. “I thought I’d be bringing those down,” he said, coming farther into the room.

“Your mother couldn’t wait.”

His mother ignored the sarcasm in his father’s voice and pointed to the far corner of the room. “Would you move the tree over there, son? Your father refused to move it one inch more into the room. I don’t know what’s gotten into him lately. It’s bad enough he bought that red monster out there without even consulting me, and now he’s refusing to help out around here.”

At the age of seventy-two, his father still got around very well. But Morgan hated the thought of his climbing up and down the ladder that ran to the attic. He decided not to get into the argument about the new car but wanted his mother to know he didn’t like the fact they didn’t wait for him. “Mom, you should have waited for me to help you and Dad,” he said, pulling the heavy box into the corner she indicated.

“Nothing’s gotten into me,” his father grumbled as he stalked off to the kitchen.

His mother hugged Morgan. “Come on into the kitchen. I made pot roast for dinner. That ought to sweeten him up, and if that doesn’t work, I made his favorite lemon pie.”

Morgan shook his head as he followed his mother into the kitchen. His parents could argue with the best of them, but when it came time to go to bed, he knew they’d forgive each other and go to sleep content with the world once more.

After everyone had been served and grace had been spoken, Morgan’s mother asked the question he’d been waiting for. “What have you been up to, honey?”

He took a deep breath and plunged in. “I met the woman I’m going to marry.”

His father dropped his fork; his mother sputtered and almost spit out the water she’d just drunk from her glass.

“You’re both going to love her, too. I would have brought her with me tonight, but I know how you feel about Christmas tree night.” He felt like a man standing in front of a freight train. Should he shut up and get out of the way of danger or continue to talk and stare like a deer in headlights?

His mother was the first to speak. “You met the woman you’re going to marry?” She picked up his father’s fork and handed it back to him.

Morgan nodded.

“Does this woman have a name, son?” his father asked, forking a slice of roast and chewing it slowly. “Her name is Sheila Fisher.”

“The children’s author?” his mother gasped.

Morgan looked at her in surprise. “You know her?”

“Not personally, no. But your niece and nephew have all of her books. I bought them for the kids last Christmas.” His mother began to eat.

Morgan chewed his meat slowly and digested the fact that his family had seen Sheila’s books and he hadn’t. He decided to make a trip to the mall bookstore and see what her books looked like. He’d been so enthralled with the woman that he’d forgotten she had other books out.

“How did you meet?” his mother asked.

“She came to the signing right after Thanksgiving.” He buttered a roll. “Sheila’s using the Woodland characters in her next series of books.”

“How exciting!” his mother proclaimed.

“Not to mention flattering,” his father added before taking another bite of pot roast. “Think you’ll be bringing her by soon so we can meet her?”

His mother looked at him with the same question in her eyes.

“I’ll bring her over for one of Mom’s wonderful dinners sometime. . .soon,” he promised with a smile.

His mother grinned her approval. “That will be nice.”

Morgan nodded and continued to eat. His thoughts were on Sheila and the book she was working on. She enjoyed talking about her story but didn’t seem to appreciate when he asked questions unless she initiated the subject. It was as if she still held resentment toward him for requesting the byline.

“It’s a good thing she needed you in order to write those stories, or you two might never have met,” his mother interrupted his thoughts.

“What do you mean?” Morgan looked up and studied his mother’s face.

She waved his concern away with her fork. “Nothing. I was just thinking that without your permission she couldn’t write those books. Am I right?”

Morgan nodded. Sometimes he felt as if Sheila was beginning to care for him, but could it be she was just patronizing him so he’d continue to allow her to write the books?