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

by Sabrina York

  Beth caught up to him. “Or wake up without my joints snap, crackle, popping like a bowl of cereal after adding milk.”

  Drew draped his arm across his wife’s shoulders. “I could handle the sound effects if it didn’t come with all the aches and pains.”

  Beth slipped one arm around her husband’s waist. “Come on, old man. Let’s pop a couple of anti-inflammatories and take our old bones off to bed.”

  “Good night, you two,” Natalie called out.

  Mack watched Nat as her gaze followed the older couple out of the room. He adored how one corner of her mouth lifted higher than the other with the slightest of smiles. The sparkle in her green eyes was a direct reflection of that same smile. She turned away, her attentions shifted once more to the tablet and Duke.

  Several awkward moments of silence later, she sighed. “Your staring makes me self-conscious.”

  “Sorry. I just wonder...”

  She faced him, wide-eyed. “Wonder what?”

  He edged closer to her. “What forces of nature would have to occur to bring the two of us together.” He shrugged at her disapproving frown. “I know, but a man can hope, can’t he?”

  She turned back to her e-reader. “I can’t imagine what that would take.” She plowed her fingers deeper into Duke’s coat, and the old dog groaned his approval.

  Mack closed the gap between himself and the opposite end of the couch, settled into the pliable leather cushions. “I always heard Golden Retrievers were highly intelligent creatures.”

  Natalie caressed the dog’s large head. “He’s a good old dog.”

  Mack waited through another long pause of silence before he took his second shot at it. “If the universe somehow threw a bone of a chance our direction, would you consider it?”

  She adjusted her grip on the device. “Consider what?”

  “Dating me.”

  Her eyes on her screen, she took her time answering. “That’s a mighty big if, considering the four states and fifteen hundred miles between us, don’t you think?”

  “It is now, but you never know what wonders the universe will produce.” He leaned forward, rested his elbows on his knees to get a better look at her face. “Would you?”

  She turned her lips inward, kept her gaze on the screen. After several seconds she faced him. “I’m not sure it would be fair to you.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Because, I won’t know until I actually start dating again if I’m ready to move on—to put my husband behind me. What if I do and realize the timing isn’t right? That first person would equate to nothing more than the rebound guy after a break-up in a serious relationship. I’d hate to . . .” She paused and took a deep breath, released it before continuing. “I think you deserve better than that.”

  “Let me worry about that.”

  “No.”

  “No?” He straightened his back, not sure which of the two questions she’d answered so abruptly.

  “You do deserve better.” She lowered her feet to the floor and rose from the couch. “I don’t want to discuss this again, Mack. Good night.” She headed upstairs, Duke the dog hot on her trail.

  Mack watched their retreat, again awed at Old Duke’s intelligence. It took a full minute for her comments to sink in—four states and fifteen hundred miles. He grinned. Someone had done her research.

  And that gave him hope.

  Now, should he sit back and let the forces of nature blow their winds in one direction, or unleash his own little change in weather pattern?

  7

  December 23rd

  Natalie stretched, blinked several times and opened her eyes to the muted glow of morning light filtering out around the edges of her corner room’s two windows. Shivering, despite the warm air pouring in from the central unit’s overhead air vent, she got up. Duke lifted his head from his spot on the rug and rose slowly, stretching his two front legs before him.

  She approached the window, pulled aside the room darkening drapes, and gasped at the rarity of a snow-covered landscape. Soft, fat, snowflakes drifted down from skies heavy with cloud coverage. “It’s snowing, Duke. Oh m’gosh!”

  Bubbling with excitement, Natalie dressed in layers, eager to get outside. She slipped into leather boots and her new coat before grabbing her gloves and hat. “Come on, Duke—let’s go play in the snow!”

  She stepped into the hallway, looked up as Mack’s door pulled opened. “It’s snowing, Mack! Isn’t it fabulous?”

  His face lined with sleep, he dragged one hand through his ruffled hair, and yawned. “Mm, hmm—fabulous . . .” He slipped a flannel shirt over his white T-shirt.

  She couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up at the irony of his situation. “Poor Mack—you came all this way to get away from snow, and it followed you.”

  He stared down at her, his eyes hooded and sleepy. “You’re a real riot, Nat.”

  “Don’t worry. You won’t have to shovel your way out of this snow. A foot would be record breaking for us, and it’ll melt on its own a day later at the first hint of sunshine. I’ll enjoy it while I can.” She ran down the stairs after Duke, with Mack lagging behind.

  She opened the front door of the lodge and stepped out, sucking in her breath at the icy air. Beth and Drew stood at the top of the stairs and faced her, their greetings of “Good morning!” cheerfully synchronized.

  “There’s Duke, the old traitor,” Drew added, as the dog ambled to the edge of the wide porch and down the steps to do his morning business.

  Natalie beamed at their hosts. “He kept me company all night. He’s such a good boy.”

  “He usually sleeps in our bedroom when he’s inside,” Beth admitted. “I’ve never seen him take to a guest as quickly as he has to you.”

  Mack grabbed his coat from the rack at the door and pulled it on. “I’ve always heard animals are excellent judges of character.”

  Drew grinned as Duke headed back up the steps and sat at Mack’s side, looking up at him. “I have, as well, and it seems he’s taken a shine to both of you.” He turned to his wife. “How do you like that, honey? Twelve years and we’re pushed aside like a dirt bike in a showroom full of Harleys.”

  Beth leaned over to pet their dog. “I don’t know. Should I be jealous, Duke? Have we been replaced?” The dog answered with a lick to the side of her face and wag of his fluffy tail. She laughed and straightened, wiping her face as Duke plopped himself on top of her and Drew’s feet. “I guess that means he still loves us.”

  Anxious to play, Natalie headed down the porch steps into the yard. Her boots crunched on the snow, leaving a distinct trail of footprints in the fresh blanket of white. “It must have started snowing hours ago. It’s so beautiful.”

  Mack followed her, adding his own footprints next to hers. “I came downstairs around 2:00 a.m. and it had already started accumulating on the ground.”

  She reached down, scooped up the damp stuff between her gloved hands. “You were still up at that time?”

  “I couldn’t sleep.”

  Natalie resisted asking why, and instead, packed the snow into a neat round ball before rolling it around on the ground. “Help me build a snowman, Mack. This may be my only chance for several years.”

  He scooped a handful of snow, frowned as he packed it into a tight ball. “This is what we call ‘heart attack snow’ back home.”

  “Seriously?” She watched him discard the snowball to wipe both hands on his jeans.

  Mack nodded and pulled on his gloves, flexing his fingers several times before reaching for the ball of snow again. “Imagine having to dig yourself out of six to ten feet of this stuff. It’s so heavy because of the moisture in our area that people have heart attacks from the physical strain of shoveling.”

  “That gulf breeze brings in all kinds of humidity in the south. Snowfall is rare here, so we take what we can get. I remember running the central AC during Christmas. My granny fussed because she’d been hospitalized for hip surgery d
uring the only cool spell we had before Christmas. She was upset for missing what she calls her divinity-making weather—cool with low humidity.”

  “Divinity—that’s the soft white candy, isn’t it? I love it, haven’t had any in years.”

  Natalie paused to glance over at the lodge. Beth and Drew had long since retreated to its warmth. She labored on her snowball for several minutes longer, looked up when Mack’s next question broke her concentration.

  “Is this big enough?” He stood next to an impressive sized snowball, at least two feet in diameter.

  “How’d you get yours that big so quickly?”

  “Don’t look so surprised.” He thumbed his chest proudly. “I got skills—I am a building contractor, you know.”

  “With decades of snow ball practice,” she added, rolling her somewhat misshapen snow ball next to his.

  “That, too.” He lifted her snow ball and placed it atop of his. “Yours is the perfect shape and size for the torso. Now we need a smaller one for the head and we’re in business.”

  “You work on that and I’ll scavenge the area for accessories.” She returned later with two sticks for arms and a hand full of dark rocks for the facial features.

  Beth came outside, all bundled up and carrying a bag. “I thought y’all could use these.”

  Nat squealed in delight as she pulled a carrot, a long black and gold knitted scarf, and several black and gold Saints pins from the bag. She placed the carrot and scarf accordingly, used the pins as buttons on the torso, and took a step back. “Perfect!”

  “Not quite,” Drew called from the porch. “He needs one thing.” He trudged across the yard, produced a black cap boasting a New Orleans Saints fleur de lis symbol on the bill, and a furry tuft of fake gold fur sprouting from the top. He placed it on the snowman’s head and stepped back. “Now it’s perfect.”

  They broke out in a muffled round of gloved applause. Beth produced a camera and got several shots of Nat and Mack together. Mack pulled up his phone’s camera app and they gathered for a group selfie. Even Duke moseyed over and got in on a couple of shots. Soon after, the older couple had enough of the cold and went back inside.

  Natalie stared at their creation. “I love our Saints snowman.”

  “He’s okay. It’d be better with a Vikings helmet.”

  She gave him the stink eye. “Not around here, buddy.”

  His chuckle rumbled in the air. “You’re from Mississippi. Why are you a Saints fan?”

  “Biloxi’s a hop, skip, and a jump from New Orleans. Most people in Mississippi are Saints fans.”

  “That takes care of the NFL—how about college football?”

  She grinned. “SEC all the way, baby! But I’m an Ole Miss Alumni—class of 2009—so don’t expect me to pull for LSU.” She arched her brow. “That is, unless they’re up against Bama’s Crimson Tide. It’s a given I’ll pull for anyone but Bama. Old ‘Big Al’s’ head is the only animal I’d ever care to see mounted and hung on a wall.”

  “I’ve never understood the correlation between the Crimson Tide and the elephant.”

  “There is none,” Natalie said. “Story is they both came about from comments made by sports writers or announcers—nobody called them commentators back then. Crimson Tide has been around longer, something about the linemen being covered in red mud during a tight game between Bama and Auburn way back in 1907.”

  “And the elephant?”

  “Sadly, that came about over two decades later during a game with Ole Miss. Bama went undefeated that year. Some guy in the stands yelled out Hold your horses. Here come the elephants, when the Bama team took the field. The sports writer put it in the article and the students ran with it.”

  “Why do you know so much about Bama when you’re an Ole Miss graduate?”

  She grinned. “Know yourself and know your enemies—Sun Tzu’s The Art of War—“

  “He got that from an old proverb.”

  “I know.” She sent him a sideways glance. “I guess you’re a fan of the Big 10 division. Did you go to Minnesota State?”

  He kicked at a mound of snow. “I joined the Army right out of high school. Never could see myself sitting through four or five more years of schooling. But I’ve had season tickets in the past.”

  She scooped up a mound of snow and packed it into a tight ball. “Isn’t their mascot a groundhog or something like that?”

  He wiped his mouth on the back of his gloved hand. “A gopher.”

  She placed the ball on the ground and scooped up more snow. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

  His bark of laughter rang out over the silent, white landscape. “There’s a difference, and they’re the Golden Gophers for your information.”

  She offered an over-dramatic shiver. “Oooh, that sounds terrifying!” She placed the ball beside the first and scooped up another glove full.

  He groaned and shook his head. “Go on—get it out of your system.”

  “Nah, I’ll leave you alone.” She grabbed all three of the snowballs and distanced herself before she turned on her heels and launched one that missed, whizzing past him. The next one landed on his shoulder.

  He wiped the snow from his coat and faced her. “You did not just initiate a snowball fight with a Minnesota man.” He saw the third one coming and raised his hand to swat it down. “Oh baby girl, let me show you how it’s done!”

  She dropped to her knees, hurriedly made two balls, looked up to find he had three already in hand. “How’d you do that so fast?”

  His chuckle sounded eerie in the frozen space between them. He didn’t stop until he’d formed six snowballs. “Did I mention I pitched hardball all through high school?” He launched one that hit her squarely in the chest. “I started for the last three.”

  She launched one back at him, caught him on the back of his head when he spun to avoid it. “I didn’t pitch, but I played first base in summer league as well as high school.”

  He answered with three in a row that had her spitting and sputtering snow. “You give?”

  She pushed the wet hair from her face and launched another one that him on the arm. “Never!” When she took a step back, her foot went out from under her and she landed flat on her back.

  He heard her screech before she hit the ground with a sickening thud. “Nat!” He rushed to her side, praying she hadn’t hit the back of her head on anything hard. A friend of his once had a major concussion from a fall just like that. “Are you okay?” He stood over her. “Natalie!”

  She lay there, her eyes closed, arms at her sides, still as death. Mack dropped to his knees, his chest tight with fear, leaned over her to check for any signs of injury.

  Her hand came up quickly, smashed a snowball flat on the side of his face. He gasped as ice slithered inside the neck of his coat. She snickered, and her opposite hand came up with a second handful of snow. He blocked it, then held both her arms down. “You play dirty.”

  Her mouth twisted in a grin. “When up against expertise like yours, all I have to counter with is womanly wiles.” She tried in vain to move her arms.

  “Yeah, well I was honestly afraid you’d hurt yourself. A fall like that can be dangerous—cause concussions.” He leaned over, stared into her eyes.

  She stilled. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m checking for any sign of pupil dilation.” He stared at her eyes for several seconds, inched his mouth closer to hers. What would she do if he kissed her now?

  Her eyes widened. “I’m fine.”

  “I’d say you are.” He inched even closer.

  “Stop! Let me up.”

  He couldn’t have ignored the hint of pleading in her voice if he’d wanted to; his parents had raised him better. He released her arms, rose to his feet and reached for her.

  Nat stared at his outstretched hand for a moment, as though weighing whether she should accept his assistance. In the end she took it, let him help her to her feet. Natalie brushed off her behind while he wiped the snow
from her coat. “Sorry if I scared you. I’m sincere in my klutziness.”

  He brushed the last of the snow from her shoulder. “Lots of people fall in lo—I mean—snow. Lots of people fall on snow or ice…you know…when they aren’t accustomed to it. I mean, you don’t even have the proper footwear for snow. Those leather soled boots are slippery in these conditions.” Heat began at the base of his neck and rose. He spun around and headed for the lodge. What. The. Heck was that?

  He waited until he was nearly at the lodge’s front steps to glance over his shoulder. She stood in the same spot, watching him. “If you stay out, be careful where you step.”

  “I will!” she called out.

  He stomped up the front steps and opened the lodge door. Duke brushed past him to sit at the top step and bark at Natalie.

  “Come on, Duke! Come play in the snow with me.”

  The dog stood, wagged his tail, then sat and emitted a strange combination of whines and barks.

  Drew appeared at the door. “He’s old, Natalie. This cold might have him feeling the aches and pains more than usual, kind of like Beth and me.”

  “Aw, I hadn’t thought of that. I bet you’re right.” She trudged back to the porch and sat beside Duke, draping her arm around the dog’s neck to pull him close for a hug.

  Mack brushed past Drew, filled once more with unreasonable envy for that dog.

  8

  The snow continued for most of that day, sometimes as lightly floating snowflakes, sometimes raining down in huge, heavy clumps of frozen precipitation. Both Nat and Beth spent most of the day on the front porch rockers drinking hot cocoa, bundled in coats, with quilts spread over their legs for warmth. Duke spent the warmest part of the day at Nat’s feet, sharing her quilt.

  The Coopers, having left the lodge earlier that morning, called hours later to let the Brunson’s know that their car had slid off the icy roads into a ditch. Mrs. Cooper’s family members, local farmers in the area, had pulled them out with no trouble, no injuries, and no damage to the car. They’d managed to get the vehicle back to the family farm, but had insisted the couple remain where they were until driving conditions improved. Drew had been more than happy to refund the rest of their stay under the circumstances.