Christmas at Mistletoe Lodge: New Holiday Romances to Benefit St. Jude Hospital

by Sabrina York

  Panic rose within me, along with its best friend, retreat. All I wanted to do was run. “The bathroom is here,” I blurted as I pushed past him to open the door and wave in the general direction of the shower. “Let me know if you need anything. Okay? Great.” I spun around and headed straight for the bed, but then realized that might have some double entendre, so I grabbed my book off the bed, and sat in the chair.

  And…the chair faced the bathroom door. Great. Now I had a perfect, front-row-view of Cooper standing there, all sexy in a tee shirt and jeans, and chuckling. At me.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “What do you do if you need to pee?”

  What? What on earth was he saying? Then his meaning clicked in. “I can wait until you’re finished showering.” Duh.

  His laugh filled the room. “No. I mean, wearing that.” He gestured at my person. “What do you do if you need to pee?”

  Ohh. He meant my sexy flannel onesie. “Easy. Snaps.” I leaned back, opened my legs, and showed him.

  I probably shouldn’t have done that. It hit me just a nanosecond too late to stop.

  His expression froze, framed as it was in the V of my legs. A muscle clenched in his cheek. His fingers tightened on the knob. “Oh,” he said with a nod. “Clever.” But his smile didn’t reach his eyes. It barely reached his lips. “I, ah… I’ll try not to take too long,” he said as he stepped inside the bathroom.

  “No worries,” I responded. “Take your time.” But he probably didn’t hear me, because he’d already closed the door.

  My feet hit the floor with a thud.

  Hoo boy.

  Yeah. There I sat, staring at the bathroom door and listening. Just listening. It made my blood heat to know he was so close. Just beyond that slim barrier.

  Never mind what happened to my blood pressure when I thought of him sliding out of that black tee shirt. Shimmying out of those tight jeans. Thumbing his skivvies down… Oooh. Boxers or briefs? It made my mouth water.

  What did he look like now? Naked?

  Not skinny, that was for sure. He’d be layered with muscle. I wondered if I could fit my fingers around his bicep. Ah, but that would only be a ploy, wouldn’t it? A trick to slake the desire, rising from the depths of my soul, to touch him, skin to skin, just once more.

  I closed my eyes and remembered how it felt, how he smelled, the feel of him entering me slowly, filling me fully, and—

  Oh. Good. Lord.

  Had I ever been this ready? This hungry? Had I ever wanted something so much? With seemingly every fiber of my being? I couldn’t think of a time. Not ever.

  He was right there. Right. There.

  Naked.

  Why was I denying myself? Really?

  Because that man wanted me. He’d made it more than clear.

  Rejection was not an issue here.

  So what was?

  I knew I was afraid of another broken heart. Who wouldn’t be? But honestly? At my age? Hadn’t I survived worse than that?

  So stone-cold fear shouldn’t be an issue here either.

  What?

  Yeah. Nothing. Absolutely, fricking nothing.

  I stood and let the book slip from my fingers. As I made my way to the door separating us, I undid the snaps on my onesie and slid it off. After a deep breath, my underwear followed.

  Quickly, before I could chicken out, I opened the door and stepped into the room.

  It was sultry and hot. The scent of him infused the air.

  I saw him there, in the shower, beneath the spray of the water, a blur. The glass door was fogged over, but he must have sensed something, because he stilled. Turned. Then he opened the door, releasing a plume of steam. It swirled around him, then me, and then it dissipated, leaving us bare to each other.

  Yes. I was right. He was the epitome of male perfection. Long, lean, muscled, and tan. There was a sprinkle of hair on his chest that darkened as it trailed down and—

  Oh! Apparently he liked what he saw as well.

  I didn’t bother to wonder or fret about what he would think of my body. I didn’t have to.

  “Vic?” He reached for a towel and dried his hair, because it was dripping in his eyes.

  I stepped toward him and pushed him back into the spray. “This is not a thing,” I said.

  He tossed the towel and grinned. “Isn’t it?”

  “No. It’s a one-time deal, Coop.” He pulled me into his arms—ah! Skin against skin! “This is just a stress reliever, okay?” God, he felt so good.

  “So you’re using me for sexual relief, is that it?” He found my ear and then kissed his way to my mouth.

  “Do you have a problem with that?” I asked between shivers.

  His grin was infectious. “Not in the least.”

  “Well, all right then, shall we—”

  He turned me and pressed me against the warm wall in a rush, as though he’d been just waiting for some kind of definitive go ahead. I mean, if walking buck-naked up to a man doesn’t qualify as a green light, what does? But once I was in his arms, I couldn’t wait either. I was starved, and so was he.

  We devoured each other.

  It was wild and thrilling. Everything I remembered, and more. Oh, so much more.

  He was a man now, and he made love like a man. Hard and bold, gentle and sweet. He brought me to heaven twice with his body and words, once in the shower, and once, once we’d dried off, in bed. And then, he held me, stroked me, slowly, endlessly as we waited for our bodies to recharge.

  When I teased him that he’d apparently learned a lot in his travels, he vowed to show me more.

  It was a delightful evening all around.

  Except for trying to sleep together in the tiny bed.

  So when Mason scratched on the door in the middle of the night, I ignored him. There was no way I was sharing this bed with both of them.

  I woke up alone the next morning and my heart sank. I don’t know why it sank, stupid heart. There was no reason to be sad just because he’d left. The bed had not been comfortable. I’d even thought about grabbing my pillow and going to sleep on the sofa in the living room a couple times.

  I hadn’t been able to leave his warmth.

  Besides, hadn’t I invited him into my bed with wide open eyes? A one-time thing. I had set the parameters for this. He had agreed.

  Of course he left when he woke. Why would he stay—?

  The bathroom door opened and he came out. Our gazes caught and it was awkward again, for a second. But only a second. Because he grinned. I swear, that grin could defuse a bomb. “Morning!”

  I made a face. “Aw. Are you one of those horrible morning people I’ve heard about?”

  “Ah! You’ve heard about us?” He danced over.

  “Rarely seen in the wild, I hear.” He kissed me. “Because we kill them.”

  “Good morning,” he said again, through another kiss.

  I laughed. “Did you just brush your teeth?”

  “I did.” He showed them to me.

  “Did you brush your teeth because you wanted to kiss me good morning?” I wiped my mouth because his kiss was a little too damp for my liking. “And by that, I mean, literally. Kissing me while saying Good Morning?”

  He plopped onto the bed beside me. “Yes, I admit it. I totally meant to kiss you good morning. In all the ways.”

  I ruffled back his hair. “That’s sweet.”

  He took my hand and tangled our fingers together. “I really enjoyed last night, Vic,” he said.

  “Me too.”

  “I don’t mind saying it. We do still have what we had, once upon a time. And it’s even better now.”

  “Do you think so?”

  He came in for a kiss, but we just breathed each other’s breath for a while. “I do. I—”

  A panicked pounding savaged my door.

  “Who is it?” I bellowed.

  “Olivia. Um. I’m sorry to bother you while you’re, I mean, on your break…but we have an emergency.”
>
  Ye. Gods.

  Did it never end?

  I dropped back on Coop and he oofed. “I gotta go,” I said.

  “I know.”

  I heaved off the bed and started getting dressed, but his staring at me was distracting so I nearly tripped into my slacks. Yeah. He’s that good.

  “Stop it. I have to go.”

  “Am I stopping you?”

  I glared at him and quickly finished dressing, then I checked myself in the mirror—to make sure I wasn’t sporting Something About Mary—and turned to him. “You should go into the bathroom.”

  He grinned at me. “Why?”

  “So no one sees you when I open the door. We can’t let the staff know this happened.”

  “Why not?”

  Was he nuts? “It’s not appropriate.”

  “I’ve heard that inappropriate is much more fun.”

  I nearly growled out loud. “We’re not here for fun, Coop. We’re working.”

  “Oh. Right. Okay.” He sucked in a deep breath and stood. “I’ll go hide in your shower so no one can see me when you open the door and then later, when they least expect it, I can come out of your bedroom and pretend to be lost.”

  “What?” What was he talking about?

  He took my cheeks in his hands and kissed my nose. I hated when he did that. “They already know, Vic.”

  “No, they don’t. This just happened, for Pete’s sake! How could they know?”

  He laughed and shook his head. “It’s a small cabin, Vic. You’re not exactly, um, the silent type?”

  Heat flamed my cheeks. “Oh no. They didn’t hear. Tell me they didn’t hear?”

  “They heard.” A chorus from the living room. Oh horrors.

  Bloody fricking hell.

  Oh well. At least there was nothing to hide now.

  8

  The 23rd was supposed to be a quiet day with guests relaxing around the lodge, watching movies, soaking in the hot tub. You know. Quiet.

  You gotta love quiet days.

  But, apparently, Farley and Jamison were having a fight.

  There was no quiet in the guest lodge whatsoever, what with the yelling, stomping, slamming of doors, and whatnot.

  Farley even sent poor Jaxon to yell at Jamison for her—when she got tired, one presumes.

  And then there was that kerfuffle when Lola turned up missing again before lunch.

  She was with Mason, of course, and that was the first place we looked…that time and the six that followed. I was beginning to suspect those two dogs were in love, as ludicrous as that might seem.

  After I rescued Lola from Mason’s wet snout for the fourth time, I walked in on Olivia loading the Baccarat crystal goblets into the dishwasher. Thank God I walked in. “No, hon,” I told her. “These can’t go in the dishwasher. We wash them by hand.”

  “Why?”

  I smiled. “Because they are over a hundred fifty dollars a stem.”

  Her mouth dropped open. “Get out.”

  “Not kidding. Not even a little bit. Let me help you pull them out. No. Please don’t clink them. One at a time.” Oh lord.

  I barely had time to get my pulse back to normal before I spotted Jamison’s mother, Carmella, heading toward me with a very familiar glint in her eye. I knew what was coming. Oh, not the details, but the gist. She wanted something impossible. “Hello there. Veronica?”

  “Victoria. Yes. How can I help you, Mrs. Smith?”

  “Oh, it’s the boys. They’re missing LA.”

  “Yes. I can understand that. It’s very different up here in the Northwest.” There was, like, snow here.

  “It is.” She shuddered. “We’re in the boondocks. Is there any way we can have some In-N-Out brought in for lunch tomorrow?”

  I gaped at her. “Um, we don’t have that chain here.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of.” Heavy sigh. Large damp eyes. A flutter of the lashes. “Is there any way we can have it flown in? Yes. That would be wonderful.” She patted me on the shoulder as she passed, not waiting to hear if I would agree to fly a hamburger from LA for her son, or tell her to go fry in hell. Which—let’s face it—would have been fun.

  Of course I flew in burgers for her son. That’s what we do here. But it was a pain in the ass. At least she’d given me a day’s notice.

  After I handled that—a simple matter of calling some contacts in Los Angeles to pick up the burgers, locating one of our pilots who could fly the special cargo to a local landing strip, and arranging for the package to be delivered here, while still hot—I headed to the storage shed to see what kind of special china there was for the holiday meal. As one does. Just one task after the other.

  The storage shed was a magical place, filled with all kinds of props and extra furniture—such as the extra bunks should the guests return from an outing with the cast of Ben Hur. There were also tons of decorations for all kinds of events, as well as a breakfront filled with special china.

  For Christmas dinner, I chose the plates with the silver gilding, because they went best with Ken’s decorations and matched the sterling flatware. I found a lovely basket that would work as a centerpiece if we filled it with Christmas ornaments. I also found reflective glass drops to sprinkle on the table.

  I was about to gather it all up and head back to the lodge when the door closed behind me.

  Not that I was spooked to be in the shed all by myself, but I whirled around, eyes wide.

  My heart took a moment to calm when I realized Coop had joined me.

  Then it started thudding again for a completely different reason.

  He had that look in his eye. “Here you are.”

  I smiled. “Here I am.”

  “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Voila.” When he just stood there and looked at me—like a hungry bear—I added, “What’s up?”

  His chuckle filled the room. “Can’t you guess?”

  I glanced down at his crotch. Honestly, I have no idea why. But, yeah. Something was up. “Are you horny?”

  He stepped closer and took me in his arms. “So horny.”

  I laughed and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “But we already did it this morning.” It seemed only right to remind him.

  Although why he would need reminding was beyond me, because our night together had been amazing.

  “I heard a rumor…”

  “What?” He’d said it in a teasing tone, so I kind of knew what was coming.

  “I heard that some people do it more than once a day.”

  “Did you?” My smiled widened. My body warmed.

  “Um hmm,” he said through a kiss.

  “But we’re in the storage shed.” Again, only right to mention it.

  “And everyone else is…somewhere else. Sounds perfect to me.”

  And even though there were bunks in here somewhere, we didn’t bother to look for them. We made love on a blanket on the floor.

  It was hot, hard, and fast, and absolutely satisfying.

  There was something just raw and savage about fucking on the floor. But this was more than just that. There was another level to our desperation, something that had nothing to do with sexual satisfaction at all. It was a connection of souls. And it was fabulous.

  Still, when it was all over, and we had recovered and dressed, I had to remind him of what we’d agreed. Or maybe I said it to remind myself. “That was awesome, but remember. This is not a thing.”

  It may have been a trick of the light, but it seemed that his smile faltered, but no. There it was, just as bright. “Right, Vic,” he said before he kissed me long and hard. “Not a thing.”

  But then he winked. And, as he walked away, he whistled.

  All in all? A pretty good day.

  Because the guests were, shall we say, in our faces all day, we had to take shifts or go insane. I made the schedule for my staff, which meant a late dinner for me. I sat down with a heavy sigh to a plate of ribs and baked beans Noel had made in the cr
ockpot. They were surprisingly good.

  I sat there, alone in the little kitchen, just enjoying my meal, and the warm wet snout on my leg. Okay, maybe I didn’t enjoy that part a whole lot, but Mason was starting to grow on me. When he wasn’t growling at me over his girlfriend.

  When Coop wandered in, I frowned at him. “Your dog is leaking.” I gestured to my damp slacks.

  “Yeah. He does that,” Coop said on a chuckle. “What are you doing?”

  I waved at my plate. “Dinner.”

  “May I join you?”

  “Please.” I liked the quiet, but he was far more entertaining than my own brain. As much as I liked being alone, I liked being with him better. We chatted for a while. Just random nothing talk. He told me about his neighborhood, and his neighbors, and even shared some of the adventures he’d had in the past fifteen years.

  Eventually, we came around to the people here.

  “You sure have an interesting staff,” he said.

  I nearly spewed a mouthful of baked beans. “You can say that again.” I leaned in. “Is it me? Or are kids getting younger these days? I don’t remember being that flaky when I was eighteen.”

  He shrugged. “I work with a lot of younger folks in my business. In fact, I’m the dinosaur. There are always some guys who come through the training program who just don’t pass. I mean, people’s lives are on the line. I can’t have one mistake. But for every flaky wannabe thrill chaser, there are a bunch of bright, engaged kids who just want a chance to learn the ropes.”

  “You’re saying I should make more of an effort to mentor them.” Hell, you couldn’t teach someone my job. It was pure instinct.

  “Or relate to them. Either works.”

  I snorted my affront. “I relate to them.”

  “Do you know their last names?”

  “What?” Why was that relevant?

  “Or where they grew up? Or if they’re single? Missing someone?”

  “In case you didn’t notice, we don’t actually have time to sit down and chat.”

  “Some effort would be nice.”

  “I’m here to work. Not make friends.”