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

by Sabrina York

  It was, lovely cuddling with Coop. All night long.

  Some things cannot be done in advance. Such as Crème Fraiche. I woke up early—again quietly disentangling myself with deepest regrets—and headed for Noel’s kitchen to make sure I had time to practice. Just in case I forgot something. Trouble was, I totally forgot that I’m not a morning person. Even navigating Google was a challenge for me. It was a fat finger morning.

  Finally, I got Crème Fraiche typed in.

  The response was that unending Circle of Doom.

  “Dammit!” I glared at my phone. I didn’t have time to wait three seconds for this. I was a busy person. “Come on.”

  I felt Coop’s laugh on my cheek. “Are you seriously yelling at the internet?”

  God, why did he have to stand so close? I was trying to focus.

  “Here. Let me.” He took my phone, making sure our hands brushed. I wasn’t sure whether to smack him or laugh at his blatant flirting.

  “Stop that,” I hissed. “I have too much work to do for you to get me in a frazzle.”

  “Oooh!” he bleated. “Are you in a frazzle?”

  I snatched my phone back and leaned in. “I. Have. Work. To. Do.” He totally ruined my hard on for work when he kissed my nose.

  Dammit.

  I never could resist that.

  He hovered, then moved in for a—

  “Stop.”

  At that word, at my tone, he took a step back and held up both hands.

  Dammit.

  I shot him an apologetic smile. “I really do have to get moving.”

  He took another step back. “I know.”

  “They could wake up at any moment. And I have to get this breakfast ready.”

  “I know. I know. I’ll, um, go see if Ben needs any help.”

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  Dammit.

  I hated watching him walk away.

  I found the stupid recipe and made the stupid crème fraiche, and cooked the quiche and tossed the fruit salad and whatever else was on the list. And we served it to the guests and they loved it and breakfast was awesome.

  The whole time, all I could think about was getting close to him again. Soon.

  Then it hit me, hard and fast—a really difficult realization.

  I wanted to spend time with him more than I wanted to work.

  I’d never wanted to do anything more than my work. I loved it. Every minute.

  But now…

  When had my work become…an annoyance? Something that was in my way?

  I was all about my job. All. About it. And happily so. Had been for years.

  What was this now, rumbling near the region of my heart?

  An ache?

  A dream?

  A long-buried hope?

  I wanted to spend time with him more than I wanted to work.

  No one had ever done that to me before.

  Dear God, let it be curable.

  But…could you imagine a Christmas like this, for us? The two of us, all cooped up in a cabin together? With fantastic smells wafting through the house, and the laughter of friends and family twining with Christmas carols from the radio? Because the cabin is in the middle of nowhere and doesn’t get cell service?

  Can you imagine being utterly unplugged? I mean, going to the toilet without your radio?

  Forget that. Can you imagine not working on Christmas?

  What would that be like?

  It had been unthinkable to me for years. In my line of work, it was a given. Everyone worked Christmas, and quit your whining. Even at my level, there were work parties and real parties and drop-bys galore. I’d always worked Christmas. I had convinced myself I didn’t care.

  But, now? Now that shell was starting to crack. Did I really like working at Christmas?

  No!

  I would really rather be curled up before a fire with Coop in that magical lodge that didn’t have any internet but still managed to have electricity, hot water, and candles. A lot of candles. Yeah, and a claw footed tub.

  “You know,” Carmella said in a loud whisper, jarring me from my fantasy. “I think this breakfast was even better than yesterday. Compliments to the chef!” Everyone around the table nodded and agreed. The various chefs around the room exchanged grins.

  Whit meaningfully unbuckled his belt—apparently a very high compliment—judging from the waggling brows. “I didn’t think anything could have been better than yesterday. But then, y’all have been just awesome. You have knocked this trip out of the park.”

  I’m sure I blushed. “Thank you so much. We appreciate that. But, as you know, it is our pleasure to be here with you and share this special time. We’re all very happy for you. Congratulations.” That’s it. Turn the praise right back on him.

  It was his turn to blush, thank you very much, and when he walked away, he walked away from that table feeling like a king. Because that is what I do to men…when I want them to tip well. Or do the laundry. Or bring me a sandwich.

  It is a craft I have well-honed over years of painstaking practice.

  12

  The wedding was perfect. Farley wore a beautiful white dress. A little too short, but who am I to judge? She also sported a sheer veil and tiara. She looked like a princess…in a very short dress. And yes, it did bear repeating.

  Jamison wore a shiny leather suit for some reason, but all the others dressed normally…for really rich people at a last-minute, soon-to-be-legendary, Hollywood wedding in the boondocks. Though there was the occasional peacock plume bouncing about, and Whit wore a leopard-skin band on his Stetson, which confused me. What message was he trying to send by choosing that band for his daughter’s wedding? People perplex me, but I was happy to see that someone had nixed tiaras for anyone but the bride. Lola being the glaring exception.

  Everything else went perfectly. For all that they were high school students playing at an impromptu wedding for one of their favorite stars—the string quartet was really good. Hardly screechy at all. But Mungo was the big surprise here, because the enormous, long-haired biker-dude really cleaned up nice. He pulled his hair back into a ponytail and wore a suit jacket and tie and everything. He even shaved. And, internet-ordained or not, he did a fabulous job.

  For as much time as it took to set up, the wedding was over quickly. That’s the way it works sometimes. Hours of prep for an event that lasts minutes, but it was Farley’s first wedding, so we all wanted it to be special.

  Judging from their expressions, we nailed it. When we brought out the cake, everyone cheered.

  After that things moved quickly. You know how that goes? You’ve been anticipating something—the guests leaving, for instance—for what seems like forever, and then suddenly, that time is here and you’re not quite ready for it?

  I was sad when the luggage started coming down, because I knew this adventure was at an end.

  And it had been an adventure.

  Not only had I reunited with Coop—and only time would tell where that went—but this opportunity to experience life in the trenches again had opened my eyes. I could see serious issues with staff training and mentoring. I started sketching out ideas to solve these problems with a plan to bring this up at the next board meeting. The company had multiple properties just like Mistletoe Lodge and if they had the same inconsistencies in training, we were looking at a systemic challenge.

  All of a sudden—at long last—all the staff lined up in the driveway to say farewell to our guests. They came through one by one, adults first, hugging us all and gushing over what a wonderful time they’d had.

  Farley was the last to come through with Eliza by her side. When she hugged me, she held on for a while. “Thank you for all your help with Jamison,” she said. “I’ll never forget you.”

  And wow.

  Something warm welled in my chest.

  I’d made a difference. Somehow, I’d made a difference.

  “Congratulations on your wedding,” I said. “I kn
ow you two will be very happy together.” I knew nothing of the sort. It was Hospitality 101: Everything’s Awesome. It was kind of a knee-jerk reaction at this point in my career.

  “Thank you.”

  And then, she handed me the envelope.

  The big fat tip envelope we all live to see.

  She did so with a wink. So it was probably a good tip.

  Yay!

  We all stayed in place as we watched them load up their various SUVs, climb in—waving farewells—and drive away.

  For a second, after they disappeared, there was silence.

  Then everyone let out a deep sigh of relief.

  They were gone. It was over.

  But it wasn’t time for fun yet. I turned to my staff and said, “Let’s flip the house,” and they all groaned, but I could tell they were playing. We all knew, once the house was flipped—and ready for the next Visit—we were really done.

  That thought made me a little sad too.

  Since Coop and his team helped as we stripped the beds and cleaned the rooms, it didn’t take long to finish. After the tip meeting—where I passed out equal shares to everyone—I rewarded everyone by treating them to takeout of their choice, which resulted in a very eclectic dinner. Jed and Ben had pizza, Olivia ordered Chinese with Coop’s team and me, and Wren and Ken Nora had sushi.

  Noel had tequila. Thankfully there was still some left in the cabinet.

  But here’s the fun part. Because the Visit was over, alcohol was allowed.

  Lunch was very boisterous indeed.

  The party lasted late into the night, from what I could tell. I can’t know for sure, because Coop and I decided to spend the night in the guest house away from all interruptions. I chose one of the smaller rooms because it was the most secluded corner of the house, and also because I knew I had to clean it in the morning.

  When Olivia and Wren found out what I had planned, they snuck in and littered the bed with leftover flower petals from the wedding, and left an iced bottle of Prosecco and a bowl of strawberries.

  I have no idea what the chocolate syrup and whipped cream were supposed to be for, but I know how we used them.

  I know it’s kind of unbelievable, but this was the best night yet.

  Breakfast the next morning was quiet. Everyone was thinking about what was next for them. So I wasn’t alone in that. I sat next to Coop at the table, enjoying his warmth as we all ate.

  Of course, I was preoccupied. With myself.

  I realized that these were probably my last few minutes with my staff, and as frustrating as this week had been, I’d come to really care about them all.

  “So, Olivia,” I said. “What are your plans now?”

  She froze and then looked at me with wide eyes. “Management training?” It was a question. It shouldn’t have been.

  “Good. You’ll be great in that program.” I turned to Wren. “And how about you?”

  “I’m thinking about that, but I’m also enrolled in a community college class in business starting in January.”

  “Awesome. Jed?”

  He grinned. It was a crooked grin. “Right after this, I’m going snowboarding with my buds.” Okay. I tried. Can’t win ’em all.

  “I have another Visit in the Bahamas,” Ken said, chop-sticking a California roll into his mouth.

  “At the new property?” I asked. How exciting. Eden’s Emerald Isles had just opened there. “I’d love to get that gig.”

  Ben was planning to hit the slopes for a couple days and Coop’s team was returning to Seattle.

  It seemed like everyone had something planned.

  All but me.

  I hadn’t really wanted to think about it until now, and now, thoughts were flooding my head. Too many to make any real sense of it. All I knew was that I wanted whatever it was I did to be with Coop.

  “How about you, Vic?” Olivia asked, and I stilled.

  “Uh, heading back to LA I guess.”

  For some reason, everyone looked at Coop. It was almost a challenge. Are you going to let her do that?

  Apparently. For he said, “And I’m heading home as well.” But then he paused, and added, to me, “Unless I get a better offer.”

  Oh. So the ball was in my proverbial court.

  All right. Fine.

  “Do you want to talk?” I asked him. He stood and took my hand before all the words were out.

  He led me to the living room, where we could be private. Sort of. I saw Jed leaning over in his chair so he could see what we were doing around the door jamb.

  For some reason, Coop took the single seat, so I sat on the sofa. We kind of looked at each other for a moment. Neither of us knew where to start. A sudden panic rose in my gullet, flooding my mouth with bitterness. What if, after all he’d said and done, he had decided all those one-night-stands we’d had—as well as a couple in the afternoon and early morning and middle of the night—had been enough for him?

  What if he didn’t want this to continue?

  The thought of it being over made me want to cry.

  Oh, who was I kidding? I had a life in LA and he lived in Seattle. Unless one of us sacrificed a lot, we could never be together. It was over.

  “So,” he said at long last.

  “So.”

  Yeah. I had no idea what to say.

  “What are your plans?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I’m heading back home, I guess.” Unless I got a better offer.

  His expression went hard and he nodded. “Okay,” he said in a raw voice. “I told you I had to come, when I found out you’d be here. I told you I needed to know if—”

  “If there’s anything between us.”

  “Right. And there is.”

  He looked to me expectantly, so I said, “Yes. There is.” Because there was.

  “But that wasn’t the whole truth, Vic.”

  Oh. Great. My stomach dove.

  “I wanted even more than that.”

  My heart did a little trill, not too hopeful, but a bit. “Why?”

  He laughed. “Don’t you know, Vic?”

  I shook my head. I was all at sea here.

  Someone throw me a floatie.

  He stood then, and moved to sit next to me, but not too close, I noticed. He gently took my hands in his. “Vic, you’re the one I could never forget.”

  Lordy. This was getting a little uncomfortable for my apprehensive psyche. “Are you trying to tell me there haven’t been any other women since me?”

  He gaped at me and then laughed. “No. I’m not saying that. There have been other women. In fact—” He paused, then started again. “Okay. All right. Yes, there have been other women, but my point is, you’re the only one I could never forget.” He shook his head. “I thought about you those hot nights in Iraq, when I was jumping out of airplanes, when I was on boring stakeouts.”

  “Did you ever think of me when you were stunt-manning in movies?”

  “Ah… Yeah. Sure.”

  I gave him a look, because that bit, I had trouble believing.

  “Hey. I’ve been wanting you for over fifteen years. Do you really think I’m just going to let you waltz out of my life? No.” He pulled me closer. “No.”

  His lips were warm and hungry on mine, but questing, as though he were waiting for something. Some tacit invitation.

  The tip of my tongue to his served as that. He gave a great groan and yanked me flush against him and opened his mouth.

  Heat flared.

  I nearly deflated when the kiss ended too soon. Probably due to the cheering from the kitchen.

  “I want to explore this with you,” he said. “No matter what it means. No matter where it takes us.” And, when I didn’t respond quickly enough, “How about you?”

  “Yes. Yes, please.” He kissed me before I could continue, but it was a quickie. “When I first saw you again, I felt…excited and scared—”

  “Wait. What? Scared? Why?” I couldn’t even look at his horrified expression.
>
  I grinned. It wobbled. “You broke my heart. I was afraid.”

  “You were afraid because you still have feelings for me. That’s why you let me kiss you right off the bat.” There he was, all playful again.

  “Your logic is impeccable.”

  “And?”

  “And?” I knew he was asking for a declaration. I knew I had to tell him how I felt. And even though it still scared me silly, I sucked in a breath, looked him in the eye and said, “I’m crazy about you, Coop. I want to figure out a way we can spend more time…exploring this.”

  His smile blossomed and he pulled an object from his pocket. “I have something for you.”

  I stared at the small box. My stomach churned. “Coop…”

  “Yeah, Vic?”

  “You’re not going to propose to me, are you?”

  His eyes got all wide and he clutched at his imaginary pearls. “What are you asking me, Victoria Sue Walker?”

  I snorted a laugh. “My middle name is not Sue, and I think you heard the question. Because we’ve just met again.”

  “I know we’ve just met…again.” He kind of made fun of that word. “But I bought this ring to give to you, before we had that fight, way back when.” He opened the box to show me.

  Oh, hell yeah. He better not be proposing. It was a cute ring, but not an engagement ring. Certainly not the engagement ring of a man who expected a yes.

  He chuckled at my expression. “I’m not proposing, Vic, but I do have a very important question to ask you. It’s been delayed a little while, but I think the question applies now, just as much as it did then.”

  I was befuddled. What the hell was he talking about? Also, had he been chewing on cloves? His breath smelled yummy. “All right. What’s your question?”

  He held out the box and went down on one knee—ignoring the squeals from the staff, who were all now peeping around the door jamb—and said, with all sincerity, “Victoria Sue Walker, will you go steady with me?”

  It was about all I could do to not laugh. He was adorable. Dorky, but really, really adorable. “I would love to go steady with you, Cameron Cooper.”

  “Rocky.”

  “Cam.” I accepted the ring with grace and helped him stand. He folded me into a hug.