Dawn Temple - Moonlight and Mistletoe

“He was big on forgive and forget, wasn’t he?” Lindy remembered softly.

Shayna sighed. “Yeah, but some wrongs are too cruel to be forgiven.”

Late Sunday afternoon, Kyle walked the half mile separating the boarding house from the giant discount store that was hosting the Noel Festival Toy Drive. A large white tent had been erected in the parking lot. Shayna, looking as scrumptious as she had last night, stood under the awning, charming the crowds as Ms. Noel.

Last night, she had jumped out of his lap and disappeared faster than the camera’s flash. He’d scoured the nearly deserted hall as well as the dwindling carnival for an hour but hadn’t found her. In the end, he’d taken his borrowed costume and returned to the boarding house. If nothing else, it gave him a great excuse to seek her out again.

Turned out he didn’t have to wait long. Or look far.

Closer to the tent, he saw a huge load of donated toys had already been loaded up in the back of a shiny red truck parked beneath the tent. A festively decorated table held a metal bucket overflowing with cash donations. He slipped a handful of bills in as he passed.

When Shayna noticed his arrival, she broke away from the couple she’d been chatting with and strolled over. “I was wondering if you were going to put in an appearance.”

“Missing me?”

Her skin turned rosy, but she didn’t give him a direct answer. “I wanted to thank you for your help last night. You really saved the day. Thanks.”

“No problem. In fact, I enjoyed myself.”

“I could tell, but I must admit, you don’t come across as the kid-friendly type.”

Thinking of all the other neglected kids he’d hung out with on the streets, as well as the ones he’d lived with in group homes and foster care, Kyle shrugged. “You’re not the only one who drew a raw deal in the parent lottery, Shayna. It can leave a hole you never outgrow. Guess that gives me an edge when it comes to relating to kids.”

“Yeah, it helps to understand that childhood isn’t all about baseball games and birthday parties, especially when dealing with the kids who are stuck in the system.” At the tentative touch of her fingers against the back of his hand, he nearly jumped out of his new boots. He’d never experienced chemistry this intense.

“I also wanted to apologize for overreacting after Patty’s phone call and for being so harsh Friday morning.”

At the moment, they were alone, but standing in the middle of the Noel Festival Toy Drive. He didn’t figure that would last. Cupping her elbow, he steered her to the tent’s far corner. “Shayna, I don’t know what your mother said to you, but I swear I never laid a hand on her.”

“Don’t worry. I’ve never thought you were scuzzy enough to be involved with Patty.”

The humorous twinkle in her eyes lifted a weight from Kyle’s shoulders. He couldn’t stomach the idea of Shayna thinking he’d be interested in someone as false and manipulative as Patty Hoyt. “And for the record, kissing you had nothing to do with my job.”

“I know that. Now.” Her fingers tapped her shoulder, but not finding her braid there to toy with, she dropped her hand and worried the fur at her wrist. “The truth is, I freaked out. I’m powerfully attracted to you, Kyle, and I’m not happy about it. I tried very hard to ignore my feelings. When that didn’t work, I blamed you and that wasn’t fair. I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t the only one who lost control.”

“I noticed.” Her low, sultry laugh hit him below the belt.

Before he could respond, a mother and daughter called Shayna’s name from across the tent, reminding them of their public exposure. She moved back toward the red truck and returned the mother’s wave.

Ready for a safer topic, Kyle followed her and gestured toward the clusters of people donating cash and toys. “Impressive turnout. I wouldn’t have guessed there were this many people living in a town as small as Land’s Cross.”

She smiled cheekily in response to his obvious subject change. “Not all these folks live in town. In a big city, if you travel twenty miles to visit a particular shop or restaurant, you’re likely to pass dozens of similar businesses on the way. Around here, people drive twenty or thirty miles to get to Land’s Cross because it’s the only option.”

“A monopoly, of sorts.”

“Ooh, I love that game.” Shayna looked over her shoulder, where a scrawny boy in need of a haircut sat in the truck bed, sorting through the donated toys. Kyle recognized him from last night as the little boy who’d refused to sit in his or, rather, Santa’s lap. “Tommy, add Monopoly to the wish list.”

“Miz Shayna, how do you spell it?”

A pack of elderly ladies approached the table before she could answer. “I’ll help him,” Kyle volunteered.

“Are you sure? It can wait, if you’ve got something else you need to be doing.”

“Nope. The only thing on my agenda between now and my return flight Tuesday afternoon is waiting for you to speak with your attorney.”

“Ahh, so you’ve been forced to take a vacation.”

“Guess so.” He scowled at the idea. He was a man with a plan. He didn’t have time for a vacation.

“Poor baby,” she purred. “Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll survive. In fact, you might accidentally enjoy yourself.” Shayna chuckled and patted his bicep. Even that brief friendly gesture snapped his desire to life. Enjoying himself-naked, with her-was exactly what he feared if he had to spend time in Land’s Cross without the barrier of his job.

He had to stick his hands in his pocket to keep from grabbing and kissing her. “Accidents do happen.” Aware of all the people watching them, he forced a lazy grin. “I’ll go help the kid.”

“Thanks,” she whispered as he passed, then raised her voice in greeting. “Hello, ladies. You look lovely this afternoon.”

Her lilting voice faded as he approached the truck. Seasoned brown eyes in a freckled face looked him over, sizing him up. When the kid raised his pencil over the legal pad in his lap, Kyle figured he’d passed muster.

As Kyle began slowly calling out the proper spelling, he noticed scraps of the same yellow paper taped to the boxed toys. Each piece held a different name, all written in the same scratchy lettering. Not a single package was tagged “Tommy.”

“Lotta good loot here.”

The boy looked up, squinting from beneath the shaggy hair coating his forehead. “You’re that fake Santa from last night,” he accused. “I don’t believe in Santa Claus.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.” Arms crossed over his chest, the boy wore a battle-ready look Kyle remembered well from his own childhood.

Somewhere, a portable stereo played Christmas carols. As Kyle stared into the boy’s world-weary expression, “Little Drummer Boy” faded into “Joy to the World,” and another memory, a rare, happy recollection, surfaced in his brain, providing him with a rebuttal to Tommy’s skepticism.

“Ever hear the legend of St. Nicholas?”

Tommy shook his head no. Kyle levered himself onto the lowered tailgate and waited, hoping the child’s curiosity would draw him to Kyle’s side. Sure enough, a few seconds later, the boy dropped down next to him, his feet dangling about a foot higher than Kyle’s.

“Hundreds of years ago, this rich guy named Nicholas went to work for the church. During his travels, he met lots of people-mostly sailors and children-who needed help. So Nick used his wealth to buy food, clothes and toys for these people.”

He glanced at his audience from the corner of his eye. The boy sat with his head tilted, his attention rapt. Satisfied to have pierced the kid’s tough-guy act, Kyle continued.