SUSAN MEIER - Bride Under the Mistletoe - The Magic of a Family Christmas

“But this really doesn’t change anything. You and I are together. I’m your mom now.”

His head down, Harry said, “But it’s just us.” Tears dropped to his blue-jean-covered thighs. In the silence, Wendy could hear fat Creamsicle thump down the stairs and amble into the room.

Over Harry’s bowed head, Wendy met Cullen’s gaze. She didn’t have a clue how to respond. She knew exactly what Harry meant. He had lost everyone in his life. With only her as a guardian, how could she promise him that he wouldn’t someday find himself alone again?

Cullen gave her a look that nudged her to be honest. To say what she felt.

“No matter what happens, I’ll be here for you, Harry. I love you.”

Creamsicle picked that exact second to jump up on the sofa and into Harry’s lap. He nuzzled his nose against Harry’s chin. As he did, the little red bell on his collar finally rang.

Harry’s head jerked up. He looked from Cullen to Wendy and back at Creamsicle again. Then he rubbed his face in the thick fur of the cat’s neck. “Thanks, Creamsicle.”

Wendy’s heart splintered. She’d never known her ornery cat to be affectionate with anybody but her, but right at that moment she was abundantly glad he’d taken to Harry.

“Okay,” Cullen said, rising from the sofa. “Since this has been a bad day, I’m going to take you both out to dinner.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t want to go anywhere.”

“Then,” Wendy said, deliberately brightening her voice, not really angry with Cullen for trying to cheer Harry, but noticing again that he never asked. He simply told. “Why don’t we make something fun for supper? Like spaghetti?”

Harry’s sullen expression didn’t change.

Cullen said, “Or hot dogs? We could roast hot dogs here in the fireplace. My dad and I used to do it all the time.”

That perked Harry up. “You did?”

“Sure.”

“And then we’ll make s’mores,” Wendy added, leading the men into the kitchen.

They managed to keep Harry entertained all evening, tiring him out so much that when he finally took a bath and went to bed, he fell asleep immediately.

As they closed the door on his bedroom, Wendy began to feel guilty for judging Cullen so harshly. His behavior that evening had proven he truly liked Harry, and only wanted what was best for the little boy in her care. She should appreciate the fact that Cullen had smoothed things over with Randy and invited them to dinner. After all, it wasn’t as if he were high-handing her into a relationship. He was being kind to her little boy.

Walking down the stairs, Wendy said, “Thanks for your help.”

“You could have handled it.”

That made her feel a little bit better. “Yeah, but your expertise about roasting hot dogs in the fireplace definitely came in handy.”

Thinking he would be leaving, Wendy walked to the front door, but Cullen passed her and returned to the living room. He grabbed the paper plates and chocolate-bar wrappers from the s’mores. As he straightened from the coffee table, he turned to the fireplace mantel and he stopped.

Setting the candy-bar wrappers on the paper plate, he walked over to the mantel, and lifted the picture of Greg holding a fishing pole.

“Is this your husband?”

“Yes.”

“He was a fisherman?” he asked brightly, obviously pleased they had something in common.

Realizing he’d gotten the wrong impression, Wendy snorted a laugh. “Not at all.”

“So there’s a story behind this?”

“Not really. More like a boring joke. Not something you’d be interested in.” She gave what she hoped was a conversation-ending reply, grabbed the napkins from the coffee table and gathered the unopened chocolate bars and graham crackers.

Now that it had sunk in that she was really Harry’s mom, she had yet another reason not to get involved with Cullen. Forget about the fact that he was her boss and they weren’t a good match; too much involvement between her and Cullen meant Harry could be hurt when he returned to Miami. As long as he was just a guy who came to dinner once or twice to visit Harry, Harry would be okay. But if Harry saw her and Cullen being romantic, he’d get all the wrong ideas and a little boy who’d already suffered enough hurt in one lifetime would once again be disappointed. It was best to keep things simple between her and Cullen.

In her peripheral vision, she saw him shake his head, just before he turned and walked through the foyer toward the kitchen.

Carrying the candy bars and graham crackers, she followed him. He dropped his trash into the receptacle, while she stored the extra chocolate and graham crackers in the pantry.

By the time she walked out, Cullen stood by the back door with his topcoat in his hands. Not wanting him to leave with her refusal to talk hanging in the air between them, she took them back to neutral conversational ground. “Thanks again for your help.”

Shrugging into his overcoat, he nodded. “It’s not a problem.”

His voice was gruff, as if her refusal to talk had annoyed him, so she smiled and said, “Still, it’s very kind of you to be so good to Harry.”

“I’m good to Harry because I like him.” He spoke softly, and Wendy quickly glanced over at him. “I like you both.”

His unexpected statement left Wendy with no chance to stop her automatic response to it. Her cheeks flushed. The air in the room evaporated. Joy coursed through her veins. All of which was ridiculous. They could not have a relationship. She shouldn’t even want a relationship with a playboy who would disappear from her life when his work in Barrington was done. But with Harry in the picture, it was doubly wrong.

She quickly turned to the sink again, grabbed a paper towel from the wall-mounted roller and dried her hands. Keeping her voice light and friendly, she said, “We like you, too.”

She heard him take the few steps to the counter and wasn’t surprised when she felt his hands on her shoulders, or that he turned her to face him. “No. I mean I really like you. I feel so at home here.”

Not knowing whether to be relieved or disappointed, Wendy laughed. “You lived here. Of course, you feel at home here.”

He shook his head. “This was hardly a home. My parents were rarely around. Which was actually good because when they were here they fought.”

“Your parents fought in front of you?”

“They weren’t much on the decorum of fighting.” He took a breath, as if he couldn’t believe he’d actually admitted that. “My dad wanted to leave Barrington. He knew he could start an investment firm anywhere. But my mom didn’t want to leave her friends. The people who depended on her for their jobs.”

Wendy’s eyes widened. “That’s why you didn’t want to go into the plant alone?”

“No. I’ve simply never been on the plant floor before. I didn’t know anyone and I didn’t want to scare anyone. The first morning, when I saw everybody peeking into your office to say good morning in the few minutes before you came into my office to explain why you were late, I knew you were the perfect person to introduce me around.”

That made sense, but she suddenly realized they were standing close, his hands still on her shoulders. Memories of their kiss came tiptoeing back, causing her lips to tingle and her breathing to falter. He was the first man to kiss her since Greg. She’d been alone so long. Empty for so long—

Neither of which made wanting him right. Especially when he was so wrong for her.

She cleared her throat. “I guess I’d better finish cleaning up so I can get up on time for Harry tomorrow.”

He grinned. “You slept in? That’s why you were late Monday morning?”

“It wasn’t funny. I’m trying to be a good parent to Harry, and the very first time he was supposed to be somewhere I slept in.”