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

She rose and helped him with his coat. After shrugging into her own coat and getting her purse and keys from the table in the foyer, she caught Harry’s hand and led him outside into the driving wind and freezing rain.

Ice now covered tree branches and clung to the mailboxes of the row of older, but well-tended homes. She paused in front of her little blue car, studying the icicles that hung from the door handle. It was so easy for a car to slide on ice. Walking might be safer. “I’m not sure about this.”

“About what?”

“The plant isn’t very far from here. We could actually walk.”

But it was raining. And Harry was a little boy. A simple ten-minute walk for her might not be so easy for short legs.

She frowned. “Never mind. We’ll drive.”

As they waited for the car windows to defrost, she said, “So do you know what you want to be when you grow up?”

“A fireman.”

“That’s a great job.”

“I want to save people.”

Wendy yanked her gearshift out of Park and into Drive. With his mother’s passing so fresh in his memory, there was no way Wendy would let him go down that road. Not this close to Christmas. If nothing else, she intended to give this little boy a break from reality. A few days or weeks of comfort and joy while social services employees hunted for his dad.

“Maybe if you’re good enough with the cookies, you might want to consider being a baker.”

He giggled. “Girls are bakers.”

“Not really.” As they drove to the plant, they talked about the different kinds of jobs he could consider then she took his hand again to help him navigate the icy parking lot. This time she needed her key to get in.

When they arrived in her office, Cullen Barrington was standing by her desk, looking at his watch.

“Five minutes? I told you to hurry, but I didn’t mean for you to be reckless.”

“I wasn’t. I don’t live far.” She rubbed her hands together before removing her coat. “We actually considered walking, but it’s freezing out there.”

“If you think you’re cold, you should be me. In Miami the temperature rarely falls below sixty. I’m lucky that I remembered to bring a winter coat. Even with it I shiver.”

He was trying to make small talk, to be nice, she supposed, to take the sting out of calling her into the office again, and she smiled at him. He returned her smile and her nerve endings shimmered with life and energy, even as her brain filled with silly, romantic notions. Maybe this incredibly handsome man wasn’t a Scrooge after all? Maybe beneath that playboy exterior was a nice guy? Then all these feelings she had of drowning in his dark eyes wouldn’t be wrong. Maybe she’d get to kiss that mouth, be held in his strong arms—

Luckily, he had turned and didn’t see her shaking her head to clear those thoughts. They were ridiculous! Even thinking about getting involved with someone like him was dangerous. He probably practiced being nice to seduce unsuspecting females like her! She needed to keep her feet firmly grounded in her real world. She was strong now, independent, not dreamy as she had been when she’d fallen for Greg. Cullen needed one little thing printed, the forecast, then she and Harry could go home and bake.

She slid onto her desk chair, turned on her computer, hit a few keystrokes and the room went dark.

“WHAT did you do?”

So much for thinking that deep down inside he was a nice guy. “I didn’t do anything!”

A childish whimper floated to Wendy. Her office didn’t have a window, so when the lights went out, the room became pitch-black.

She bounced from her seat. “Harry, everything’s fine. The ice probably brought down a power line or two.”

“Damn.”

That had been Cullen.

Sliding her fingers across the edge of her desk, she began feeling her way to Harry. Instead, she bumped into Cullen’s thighs. Once again solid muscle greeted her and she jerked her hands away. It seemed fate was determined to find ways for her to touch him.

“Sorry!”

He cleared his throat. “It’s fine. I think Harry’s about two paces to your left.”

She found her way to Harry. Putting her hand on his shoulder for security, she said, “Here’s what we’ll do. It’s still light outside, so we can open the drapes in Mr. McCoy’s office.” She squeezed the little boy’s shoulder. “Is it okay for me to go and do that?”

Harry said, “Yes.”

“Okay. You stay here.” She carefully navigated past her desk, praying Cullen hadn’t moved in the thirty seconds she’d spoken with Harry.

“Don’t you have a flashlight or something?”

Cullen’s voice came from behind her, thank God.

“I’m sure there’s one in maintenance. Would you like to walk through the dark plant and then down the dark-as-night steps to the basement to get it?”

“Very funny.”

In another few seconds she found her boss’s desk and walked to the window behind it. Running her hands along the curtain, she found the pull string and opened the drapes. Pale light filtered in, but it was enough that she could see Harry and Cullen.

“If you guys want to sit in here, I’ll—”

Before she finished her sentence, Harry raced into the office. She stooped and caught him as he threw himself at her. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, but he hugged her fiercely.

Looking away, Cullen scrubbed his hand across his mouth. “Now, what do we do?”

“It depends on how long it takes for the electricity to come back on.” She rose and grabbed Harry’s hand. “Benny Owens works just inside the door to the plant. He has a radio. It runs on batteries. It’s a mandate of our safety manual because in an emergency, we can tune it to the local station and hear what’s going on. There are five of them in strategic locations throughout the building. Benny’s is the closest.”

“Makes sense.”

“I’m the most familiar with the plant layout so I’ll go and get the radio.” She stooped in front of Harry. “Do you want to stay here with Mr. Barrington or come with me?”

He glanced at Cullen, then back at her, pulled in a big breath and said, “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

Wendy laughed, rose and tousled his hair. The kid certainly caught on fast. “This should only take about five minutes.”

Standing in the semi-dark room with the uncomfortable little boy who’d promised to keep an eye on him, Cullen frowned. One minute turned into two. Two turned into three. Harry began to squirm.

“Don’t worry. Your mom will be back soon.”

The little boy peered up at him. “She’s not my mom.”

“Your aunt?”

He shook his head. “She’s nothing.”

Cullen frowned. “Nothing?”

Harry pushed his glasses up his nose. “I’m a frosting child.”

“A frosting child?”

“You know. Somebody else has to take care of me until portal services decides what to do with me.”

“Portal services?”

Exasperated, Harry said, “The place that puts kids in a home.”

“Oh! Social services . You’re a foster kid.”

He nodded. “Yeah. My mom died.”

Cullen’s heart stopped. Sadness filled him. Hoping he’d heard wrong, he said, “Your mom died?”

He nodded again.

Cullen bent down to talk to Harry on his own level. “Mine did, too.”

“Really?”

“A few months ago. January.” He shook his head in wonder. Time had certainly flown. “It’s been almost a year, but I still miss her.”

“I miss my mom, too.” He caught Cullen’s gaze. “She was sick though. Everybody says she’s happy now.”

Cullen nearly cursed. At the wake when people had told him his mother was in a better place, he’d believed it. But it was cruel to tell this little boy his mom preferred leaving him to staying with him.