Jennifer Snow - The Trouble with Mistletoe

“The store’s closed,” Victoria said with a frown.

“My other job.” Luke didn’t elaborate.

Victoria fought every last impulse to question him further. It was none of her business. The only thing she cared about was the store.

“Oh,” she said simply, serving the first piece of pie and pushing the dish toward him. She plated the rest and carried them on a tray into the living room, where she served them to her parents and aunt and uncle.

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “You’re not having any?”

“I’m stuffed from dinner.” Victoria faked a yawn and glanced at her watch. It had been a long day and she had work to do. “Actually, Mom, I think I’m going to head back to the bed-and-breakfast.”

Her mother glanced at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. “I guess it is getting late. Oh, don’t forget to take some stuff I thought you might like to have from your old room.” She pointed to the box near the doorway.

Victoria cringed inwardly. Just recently, her parents had finally converted her old bedroom into a sewing room for her mother. The pink walls that used to hold posters of her favorite rock bands were now painted a light tan. Her cheerleading and soccer trophies that used to line the bookshelves were in the attic, replaced by her mother’s collection of patterns. She suspected the pictures of herself and Luke and her friends had found their way into the overstuffed box near the door and she wished she could somehow escape without taking it. She’d purposely left all of this behind.

She bent and picked up the heavy box and turned with a forced smile. “Good night, Dad.”

“Drive safe, honey. The roads are slippery,” he cautioned. He reclined the leather recliner and rested his pie plate on his protruding belly.

“I will. Bye, Mom. Uncle Frank, Aunt Linda.” She advanced toward the porch and gave a quick nod in Luke’s direction. “I’ll see you in the morning…at the store?”

His determined gaze met hers and he nodded. “You bet. You need help with that box?”

“Nope, I got it.” She struggled to open the front door, balancing the box on one arm, then stopped. There was no escaping him. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Luke…you’ve got me blocked in the driveway.”

He swallowed his mouthful of pie and set the plate on the end table. “Sorry, I forgot.” He grabbed his keys and met her at the door.

“Hey, look where you kids are standing.” Her mother chuckled, pointing to the door frame above their heads.

Victoria looked up. Mistletoe hung about three inches above them. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. “Forget it, Mom,” she said, shaking her head as she reached for the door handle. She doubted very much Luke wanted to kiss her, either. She took a step outside, but Luke’s grip on her arm drew her back in.

He looked amused. “It’s mistletoe, Victoria. It’s tradition.”

Her mouth gaped. He couldn’t be serious.

He moved toward her, and she took a step back. His hand tightened on her shoulder, as he lowered his head.

He is serious. Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. “Luke…” Her protest was muffled as his lips landed on hers.

The kiss was quick and soft, but her knees weakened under its effect. Off balance, she reached out and grabbed his arm, starting to lose her hold of the box. Luke tightened his grip on her waist to steady her as he moved away and took the box from her.

Victoria’s trembling hand flew to her lips where his had just been.

“That’s the trouble with mistletoe,” he said, his gaze piercing. “You can’t always control who you find underneath it.”

Luke jumped into his truck and slammed the door. The heat of the simple kiss made him only distantly aware of the cold air inside the cab. He slid the key into the ignition. The memories of their past together had faded over time…and then she’d come back. That’s all it had taken.

He’d had the urge to kiss her the moment he’d seen her shocked expression in the store earlier that day. But he hadn’t expected his own reaction to the kiss, which had been meant to annoy her. The joke was on him.

The woman was here for one reason—to take his store away.

His cell buzzed on the passenger seat. “Hello?” he answered, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he turned on the headlights and backed out of the driveway.

“Hey, man, where are you?” His buddy Jim Bishop could barely be heard above the loud background of his surroundings.

“Just leaving the Masons’ house.” Luke shivered, finally registered just how cold it was. The heater in the old truck was cranked, but only chilled air came out of the vents. Ice crystals formed on the inside of the windshield and he rubbed it with the sleeve of his jacket, clearing a narrow chunk of window to see out.

“What were you doing over there?” Jim yelled into the phone.

Luke cringed and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Mrs. Mason invited me to dinner and you know how much good it does to argue with that woman.”

Jim laughed. “I would love to be a fly on the wall when your mom finds out…and she will find out.”

Jim was right. His mother would know soon enough and he dreaded the conversation that was bound to ensue. “Yeah, well, try to keep the news to yourself.”

“You got it. Hey, if you’re on your way home, why don’t you stop by the pool hall? Bob’s wife let him go out tonight and Darren’s on his way.”

Luke hesitated. “Who’s on bar tonight?”

Jim laughed. “You know, if you didn’t break the hearts of all the waitstaff around here, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

“That’s not what happens.” Luke scoffed. “We date, we have fun, then we mutually agree to go our own ways…” Most of the time anyway. Of course there may have been women who’d been hoping for something more from him, but he’d learned his lesson about serious relationships the hard way a long time ago.

“Is that why you’re still avoiding Hayley?”

“I’m not avoiding her… I just don’t trust her to pour me a drink at the moment.”

Jim’s loud, hearty laugh came through the phone again. “Well, don’t worry, you’re safe. Melody’s on bar tonight.”

“Perfect.” Luke pulled into a driveway and turned the truck around. A few games of eight ball were just the thing to clear his head. If he’d learned anything so far, it was that he would need his resolve when dealing with his ex-fiancée. “I’ll be there in an hour. I have to stop by the house to let the dog out first.”

“Great, bring your wallet.”

“Sure. I have no problem taking your money.”

CHAPTER THREE

Victoria scanned her room at the bed-and-breakfast, trying to figure where the noise was coming from. She glanced at her laptop screen. The annoying buzzing came from the cable Mrs. Harris had given her to connect to the internet. A timed-out error message appeared on the screen and the buzzing paused, then resumed. Her mouth fell open. Seriously, dial up? She rested her head in her hands as she waited. When Mrs. Harris had said the Brookhollow Inn had internet access, she’d assumed it was Wi-Fi.

The color-themed guest rooms, occupying the two upper floors of the four-level estate were still decorated in an intriguing mix of Victorian, French country and European Old World. Downstairs, the common areas consisted of a sitting room near the front of the house with a large stone fireplace, handcrafted furniture and bookshelves lined with magazines and novels. These were the better-maintained areas of the house, and Victoria suspected it was because they saw the least amount of use.

The dining area with its six-round wicker table and chair sets extended onto a magnificent, large wraparound deck with a view of the big, fenced yard. She’d been disappointed to see that the large floor-to-ceiling, stained-glass windows were chipped, and the floral wallpaper was outdated and peeling in the corners. The weather-worn gazebo still stood in the center of the yard, near the rock waterfall overrun with weeds; it had been the location she’d selected for the wedding ceremony. In summer, the garden had been the perfect backdrop. Now, draped in mounds of snow and ice, the bare trees and neglected rock beds seemed just a sad shadow of a more elegant time.