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

She shrugged. “Everybody felt your family was sentimental.”

“Wow.” He leaned back in his seat. “Nobody ever leaked the numbers?”

She shook her head.

“ You’ve seen the financial reports. Are you telling me you’ve never even tried to reassure your friends that everything was fine?”

“Of course I did. I’d say things like, ‘we have nothing to worry about.’ But no one believed me.” She pointed across the table. “You, they’d believe.”

He closed his eyes and puffed out a breath. “I’m really going to have to do this, aren’t I?”

She grinned with delight, her confidence in him blooming. “Yes.”

“Damn. I’m not much on PR.”

“You’ll live.”

He laughed and opened his eyes just as Mercy arrived with their food. After she set the dishes in front of them, Cullen looked up at her with a smile. “Thank you, Mercy.”

She smiled shakily. “You’re welcome, Mr. Barrington.”

“You can call me Cullen.”

Her eyes widened, but she didn’t call him Cullen. She said, “Okay,” then scurried away.

“How was that?”

“That was a wonderful beginning.”

He picked up his fork and dug into his hot roast beef sandwich. “Just so you know—I’m not doing this to get credit for the raises. I’m doing this so people get comfortable with the idea that their jobs aren’t going away.”

“You won’t be sorry.”

“I’d better not be.”

When they stepped out of the diner, a faint sheen of snow covered the cars parked on Main Street. A light breeze tousled the feathery tinsel wrapped around the streetlights. The silver bells on light poles jingled.

“Where to?”

“We’ve got three choices. Perry’s Toys, Mac’s Hardware or Truffles.”

Cullen nearly laughed at the thought of Mac’s Hardware until he remembered the hardware store had been the best place to buy trains. Then he heard her mention Truffles, the candy store his father half owned. He was a partner with their former neighbor, Jim Edwards, in the store that sold Barrington Candies as well as toys, gifts and greeting cards. Though Cullen had spent many an afternoon trailing behind Jim when he had coached the Little League team, or watching as he arranged toys and candy displays, he hadn’t seen Jim in years.

“Let’s go to Truffles.”

They walked side by side down the sidewalk, passing shops decorated for the holiday with brightly colored lights and tinsel. The airy snow danced around them, as if refusing to fall. The scent of cinnamon and apples wafted from the bakery. He felt the strangest urge to take Wendy’s hand and tuck it in the crook of his elbow, but he knew that wasn’t only silly, it would start tongues wagging. So he kept his distance, but it didn’t feel right. When he was with her he had the oddest urges to protect her from the snow, warm her hands with his own, tell her his deepest, darkest secrets.

All of which were wrong. They were too different to consider their attraction anything more than a potential affair and she wasn’t the kind of woman to have affairs, though he knew she was weakening. The night before he’d seen the light in her eyes. They had chemistry stronger than any he’d ever experienced. It was hard enough for him to resist it. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe she didn’t want to?

No. He wasn’t even going to think in that direction. It wasn’t right. She would miss him when he returned to Miami, and be hurt that he hadn’t even considered staying. And he wouldn’t even look back.

When they reached Truffles, he opened the door and a bell jingled.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Edwards,” Wendy called.

Cullen stopped just inside the door, memories of his childhood washing over him. The store didn’t have typical shelves. Instead, three-tiered tables were arranged around the showroom floor. The bottom tier of the first table held short, cuddly elves. The middle tier had slightly taller Santas. The third tier held a tall music box.

Each table was similarly appointed. Short toys, candy boxes or holiday decorations nestled on the first tier. Taller items sat on the second and the tallest on the third.

Red and green ribbons had been entwined with tinsel and looped along the walls. Holly and evergreen accented with fat red velvet-ribbon bows lined the counter.

The curtain separating the showroom from the storage room slid open and Jim stepped behind the counter, wiping his hands on a red-and-green towel. “Good afternoon, Wendy—”

He stopped, peering through the little round glasses on the end of his nose. “Well, Cullen Barrington! Your dad mentioned you’d be in town.”

Cullen stepped over to the counter and shook Jim’s hand. Short and bald, wearing a red plaid work shirt and jeans, Jim looked ten years older than Cullen’s father, though they were the same age. “Nice to see you, Jim.”

“You know the missus will shoot me if I don’t ask you to supper tonight.”

Cullen patted his tummy. “I’m afraid I had a hot roast beef sandwich at the diner.”

Jim laughed. “One day soon then?”

“I’ll call Rosie,” Cullen promised.

Nodding his agreement, Jim said, “So what can I do for you?”

Wendy said, “Cullen would like to buy Harry a Christmas gift.”

“The little boy you brought here the other night?”

She nodded.

Jim brightened, tossed the towel to the counter and came out from behind it. “We have some fabulous gifts for a six-year-old.”

As Jim scurried to the front window display, Cullen watched Wendy’s eyes light up. She was so pretty. So innocent. And darned near as easy to please as Harry.

He thought about the last time he’d been shopping. He’d gone to a boutique in Miami, stepped into a room scented with roses, was given a cup of spicy tea and told what he would buy his latest lady friend. Because it was all the rage. Because it had a price so high he wasn’t told the price. He didn’t see it until he signed his credit-card receipt.

“Here you go.”

Jim pulled an old-fashioned fire truck from the display. “He’ll love this.”

Wendy’s mouth fell open in awe. She spun to face Cullen. “Oh, he will! As we were driving to the office the Saturday I got custody, he told me he wanted to be a fireman.”

“And it’s got a bell,” Cullen said, finding a little string tab and tugging twice to make the bell ring. “I don’t know what it is with that kid and bells but he loves them.”

Wendy laughed. “It’s true. When Harry and I walked here the other night, he did nothing but chatter about the bell on Creamsicle’s collar.”

Cullen stared at her. Mesmerized. Smitten. Her eyes were alight with joy, her cheeks flushed. Her lips plump and kissable. His fingers itched to skim her jaw, tilt her face up for a kiss.

To distract himself, he lifted the little truck to examine it. “It’s not very big.”

Jim chuckled. “It’s a replica of the one we have at the firehouse.”

“It’s a small-town truck?” Cullen peered at it from all angles.

“He’ll love it,” Jim assured him.

“Okay. I’ll take it.” He handed the truck to Jim and turned to walk back to the counter. “And don’t tell me it’s free.”

Scurrying behind the cash register, Jim said, “Not on your life! The same rules apply as when you were a kid. Just because your dad owns half this store, that doesn’t mean you get everything half off.”

Cullen shook his head and turned to Wendy. “My dad had a thing about making me responsible.” The second the words were out of his mouth, he snapped it shut. Why did he constantly confess his secrets to her?

“And yet you survived.”

And why did her response always make him laugh? Make him feel normal, as if his past was just like anybody else’s, riddled with ups and downs that were part of everybody’s growth from child to adult?