Carolyn Greene - Her Mistletoe Man

Ruth still wasn’t convinced. The others were hanging on his every word, but she’d learned not to take everything at face value. For instance, his claim of being a high-ranking corporate executive clashed sharply with the leather- and jeans-clad interloper who had barged uninvited into their home. What she couldn’t understand was why the rest of her family couldn’t see what she saw. And why hadn’t they learned from Aunt Shirley’s earlier bad experiences? “What about the attic?”

“I’m getting to that.”

That piece of tinsel was getting wound around his fingers, weaving and curving in just the way she suspected the speaker was winding her own trusting family around those same fingers.

“Chris Newland was my best friend,” he said. “He was like a brother to me. The year we turned eleven, we decided to make it official by becoming blood brothers. We signed a pact, put it in an envelope and sealed it with our blood.” He turned to Ruth. “That’s what I was looking for in the attic. We hid it under a loose board.”

He seemed shaken. For a moment, Ruth’s heart went out to him. But then she remembered that scam artists could be very convincing.

“So why, after all these years, did you finally decide to come looking for the envelope?”

“Ease up on the boy,” said Aunt Shirley. “Can’t you see he’s upset?”

And couldn’t they see she was only trying to be prudent? Couldn’t they see that someone needed to look out for the best interests of the family?

“That’s okay,” said Tucker. Although his words were directed to Aunt Shirley, his gaze met Ruth’s and held it. “If I were in her shoes, I’d be asking the same questions.” Then, to Ruth, he said, “I didn’t come here looking for the envelope. As I said before, I came for some peace and quiet.”

He sighed deeply before continuing.

“Chris and his parents were killed in a traffic accident last Christmas. Seeing this big old house again brought back lots of memories, one of them being the pact Chris and I signed.”

Aunt Shirley stood, signaling an end to the interrogation. “If you want peace and quiet, honey, then that’s exactly what you’ll get. You go on back up to your room. I’ll give everybody strict orders not to disturb you. If you don’t feel like coming downstairs for meals, just let me know and I’ll bring ’em up to you.”

“Aunt Shirley!” Ruth couldn’t believe her ears. “You can’t let a complete stranger live in our house. You don’t even know if he’s telling the truth. He could have a criminal record or…or mental problems.” Realizing, after the words were out, how they must have sounded, she said to Tucker, “No offense, but we’ve been burned before.”

Oren took the sting out of her words by adding cheerfully, “You’ll know he has mental problems if he chooses to stay in this house.”

Tucker grinned. The bickering, the teasing, the noise and commotion…it all reminded him of the happy times he had spent with the Newlands in this house.

“I can’t send him back to the city to work through the holidays,” Aunt Shirley insisted. “Everybody’s got to be somewhere at Christmas…he may as well be here. Besides, we have plenty of room.”

“Yeah, Ruth,” said Vivian. “Don’t be such a wet blanket.”

Judging from the look Ruth threw her sister, he doubted Vivian’s words helped his case. Not that it mattered. No matter how enticing Aunt Shirley’s offer might sound, he couldn’t accept. It wouldn’t be right.

On the other hand, his only other option—working through the holidays—was less appealing than remaining here. At home, he’d be miserable. He’d be miserable no matter where he was, but at least this was a change of scenery. And the best part of the scenery was the lovely young woman who was watching him as if he might steal the silverware.

He definitely wanted something from her, but silverware wasn’t what he had in mind.

Aunt Shirley interrupted his hesitation. “I insist.”

“Then I insist on paying regular hotel rates, and for the meals as well.”

Tucker didn’t know what made him agree to stay, but he suspected Ruth had something to do with it. It was nothing she said or did. More, it was a feeling he got from her. Although they came from different circumstances, he sensed they shared a common bond. He detected an undercurrent stirring her soul, creating a whirlpool of emotions in her inner being. As for himself, his whirlpool felt like a deep, black hole out of which he feared he’d never emerge. But, for some reason, that hole seemed a little less black, a little less bottomless, when he was near Ruth.

“We’ll discuss that at checkout time,” said Aunt Shirley, smiling. Then she mumbled something about making room at the inn in Bethlehem. The older woman seemed obviously pleased to have him join their household.

He could tell, however, that Ruth was not happy with the arrangement.

Ruth wasn’t happy with the arrangement. She suspected the charming newcomer was up to no good, and she wondered why she was the only one who could see through this guy. But her family’s willing acceptance of the stranger and their open invitation to him were thwarting her attempts to protect her impulsive aunt. Maybe he’d been telling the truth about the blood-brothers pact. But what if he hadn’t been?

She got a stack of plates out of the cabinet and placed them around the table. When she was done with that, she returned to the cabinet for glasses. As she reached for the first one, a movement through the window over the sink caught her eye. A leather-jacketed figure was moving the two-seater convertible sports car to the carriage-house-turned-garage behind the house. Of course. He wouldn’t want anyone ripping off his car while he ripped off her aunt.

He was convincing, that was certain. But apparently she was the only one who picked up on the subtle vibes that their handsome visitor sent out. Sure, Vivian and Brooke had picked up on some vibes, but she suspected they were more hormonal than anything else. Besides, Vivian picked up vibes from—and sent out signals to—all red-blooded males.

The message Ruth received from him was that he was a man on a mission. True, he was looking for something, but Ruth was convinced the “something” he sought was not a slip of paper under a floorboard. There was more. And she intended to find out what else he was after.

Ruth leaned against the sink and watched as he came out of the carriage house, pausing in the doorway to survey the grounds. Tucker was a devilishly good-looking man, no doubt about it.

Something brushed against her arm, pulling her back to the present.

Vivian nudged her with an elbow. “Want me to get a mop? Someone could slip and fall in that puddle of drool.”

Ruth bristled at her sister’s misinterpretation. “I just don’t think he should have the run of the place. Who knows what he might be getting into?”

“Let it rest,” said Vivian. “By the way, Aunt Shirley said to add another plate for dinner. She talked Cousin Tucker into joining us this evening.”

By now, Ruth was gritting her teeth. “He’s not our cousin!”

“Yeah. So?”

There was no arguing with these people. Once her headstrong family members had their minds made up, there was no changing them. And since, for the space of about forty-five minutes, they’d thought Tucker to be their cousin, he would forever after have that status. Talk about family ties!

Ruth got out another plate, and Vivian helped her carry the rest of the glasses to the large formal dining room.

When dinner was served, it turned out to be anything but formal. The noise and commotion were enough to make the Ringling Brothers envious. Aunt Shirley had to rap her tea glass with her spoon to quiet everyone for the blessing.