Susan Crosby - Beneath the Mistletoe

Banner had always wondered if he had married Katrina mostly to prove his father wrong about that. If so, it had been a futile effort. The marriage had been over almost as soon as it had begun.

After that disaster he’d thought maybe his father had been right, after all. Maybe Banner was too much like his reclusive, somewhat eccentric great-uncle.

Joe had never had time for social games and hadn’t known how to play them if he had wanted to. Like Banner, Joe had liked other people, but he had never known quite how to behave around them. He had confessed to Banner that he’d always felt as if he was on the outside looking in at other people’s interactions. Banner had identified strongly with that sentiment, since it was exactly the way he had always felt in his own family—or rather, families.

He had sure as hell never fit in with extremely extroverted, highly educated, compulsively inquisitive women like Lucy Guerin.

Even if he and Lucy had been getting along surprisingly well so far, they had only spent a day together. He had no doubt that she would get sick of him soon enough. Katrina sure had, and she had professed to love him. Probably the biggest problem between them had been that he simply hadn’t been capable of loving her in return.

He should never have kissed Lucy. He certainly didn’t want to give her the mistaken impression that he had anything to offer her—even if for some incomprehensible reason she would be interested.

He couldn’t say he entirely regretted it, though. Kissing Lucy had most definitely been a memorable experience.

The children were sound asleep when the presents were arranged beneath the tree. Joan was delighted with Banner’s handmade toys, assuring him that the children would love them. Bobby Ray and Pop both seemed thoroughly impressed with the truck-and-tractor rig, and Lucy was amused by how long Bobby Ray played with the backhoe.

After seeing the cradle, Miss Annie sent her husband to their borrowed bedroom to fetch her knitting bag. She pulled out a lap-size afghan crafted from a soft, cream-colored yarn and finished with fringed ends. “Put this in the cradle,” she ordered. “It’s just the right size for Tricia to tuck her dolls into.”

“Miss Annie, that’s lovely,” Joan said, visibly touched. “But I can’t—”

“It’s not for you, it’s for Tricia,” the older woman interrupted indulgently. “And don’t worry about me not having plenty more. Knitting is about all I can do these days without wearing myself plumb out.”

The afghan added the perfect touch to the charming little cradle. The women all admired it while the men continued to study the intricately detailed truck rig. And then Miss Annie reached into her bag again, pulling out a thick, warm gray knit cap. “Do you think Tyler would like this? I make them for my great-grandsons, and I always have a couple of extras around.”

“He would love it, if you’re sure it’s an extra.” Joan’s voice was thick now, as if she were speaking around a lump in her throat.

Lucy had her own gifts to contribute to the cause. She had brought a shopping bag in from her car a little earlier and had set it in a corner behind the couch. She reached into it now, pulling out a handful of paperback children’s books.

“I buy these on sale all year and take them to my cousins’ children. I’m known as Aunt Lucy the book lady—I just love books. Please pick a couple you think Tyler and Tricia would like.”

“I’ve got a little something for them, too,” Bobby Ray said, looking thoughtful. “I’ll give it to them in the morning.”

Joan’s eyes were wet now, her voice even thicker. “You’re all being so kind.”

After sharing a smile with Miss Annie, Lucy replied, “You’re giving us a chance to enjoy Christmas through the eyes of children. That always makes the holiday more special.”

Joan wiped her eyes with her fingertips. “Thank you. All of you. This could have been a miserable Christmas Eve, stranded away from our families, but it has been lovely.”

“Well, I, for one, am ready to call it a day,” Miss Annie said, putting her knitting bag aside.

Bobby Ray moved immediately to assist her out of her chair and escort her to the master bedroom, with Pop tagging behind. A chorus of good-nights followed them.

“I think I’ll turn in, too,” Joan said. “It’s been a long day, and I’m sure the kids will be up early in the morning.”

Thanking them again, she headed for the guest room where her children were sleeping.

Lucy turned toward Banner, looking at him through her eyelashes, that kiss still haunting her memories. “So…” she began.

He turned away. “I need to let the dog out. C’mon, Hulk.”

The agreeable mutt pushed himself upright and strolled out of the room at Banner’s heels.

Banner, Lucy decided, was obviously regretting the impulsive kiss. As for herself, she had thought it was pretty spectacular, considering its brevity.

She could only imagine how amazing it would be if he really put some time and effort into it.

“Lucy?” Bobby Ray’s voice sounded panicky when he appeared in the living room doorway. “You’d better come quick. Something’s wrong with Miss Annie.”

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