“He was chasing after a puppy. I’m sure he’s sorry he worried you.” He nodded to Leo. “Better apologize to your mother, now.”
Leo looked at her, excitement sparkling in his eyes. “Mommy, you gotta come see. The puppy is so cute. He’s as white as snow and has blue eyes. Can I have him, Mommy. Please.” He kicked his booted feet, narrowly missing Noah’s groin. Noah winced and set him down.
Molly gave him an apologetic glance, then crouched beside her son. “Honey, you need to calm down. First, Noah is right. You should say sorry for disappearing the way you did. That’s a dangerous thing to do, and I don’t expect you to do it again. Capisci?”
Chastened, Leo scuffed his feet in the snow. “Capease.”
Molly bit her lip on a smile. “Second, you’d better say thank you to Mr. Kincaid for helping me find you.”
He tipped his head and looked way up at the giant of a man watching them with unfathomable eyes. “Thank you, Mr. Kincaid,” he said dutifully. Then his gaze went to the trees. “Can we go see the puppy now?”
“Leo…,” Molly warned.
He gazed at her with a woebegone expression. “Please, Mom. I’ll be good, I promise.”
Molly rose, accepting the hand Noah held out for support. “I thought we were here to look at Christmas trees. Mr. Kincaid was nice enough to bring us out, but I’m sure he has other things he’d like to do, so let’s just stick to the plan, okay?”
His bottom lip quivered, but he nodded and stuck his gloved hand in her free one. And that’s when she realized she was still holding Noah’s hand. She dropped it like a hot coal, then flushed at the glint in his eyes.
Time for a distraction.
“So, are you a Charlie Brown tree sort of person, or do you like the big, thick ones that fill up the living room?”
“How about starting somewhere in the middle?” he said, his mouth quirking in that mesmerizing smile again.
Yeah. Meeting in the middle was beginning to sound just right.
Noah couldn’t believe he’d been talked into choosing a Christmas tree. He’d known he’d have to decorate the house some for his guests, but a tree… It would stir up memories he wasn’t sure he was ready to cope with. His aunt had loved the holidays. She’d even made an angel for the top of the tree and his job had been to place it and do the lights each year. He’d hated those jumbled lights. It took him an hour just to unscramble the mess before he could begin the process of stringing. And there was a certain way to do that arduous chore. His aunt insisted the lights needed to circle the tree, hitting every branch if she had her way. She’d turn on the stereo and hum to the carols and he’d try his best to do as she asked without falling off the ladder and landing in her blasted tree.
Funny thing was, he’d give anything to go back to those days now.
“Look, this one is perfect,” Molly called, her hands doing a Vanna White beside the ugliest balsam fir he’d ever seen.
Its branches were lopsided, and the top had a crooked hook, but he took one look at the glow on her face and nodded. “Yep, it’ll do.” Her smile tugged him closer. He lifted his hand to brush her cheek. “You’re beautiful when you smile,” he murmured, mesmerized by her expressive eyes.
“Kiss,” someone yelled.
“Kiss her,” another voice said.
Startled, Noah turned to see they’d drawn a crowd. They pointed above Molly’s head, big Cheshire grins chasing across their faces. Already guessing what he’d see, Noah glanced up. Sure enough, mistletoe had been tied to the fairy lights.
He looked at Molly and could see the mix of embarrassment and understanding. She was about to give him an out, he knew it, but suddenly that’s not what he wanted.
He stepped back into her space, tipped her chin, and slowly, slowly—giving her time to stop what was surely insanity—he laid his lips to hers and closed his eyes, lost in a slew of sensations bombarding him all at once. Heat. Texture. She tasted of the coffee they’d drank and the apple pie they’d had for dessert. He wanted to consume her. Desire turned him deaf to the crowd, there was only Molly. Her smooth skin beneath his lips, the feel of her arms snaking around his neck, her curvy body fitting him in all the right places. He hummed with the need to get this woman in his bed.
He broke the kiss, panting hard and leaned his forehead against hers, shocked by the depth of his response. Now that his pulse was settling he could hear the clapping and hooting and hollering going on behind them. He grimaced.
“You okay?” he asked, lifting his head.
She stared up at him with a dazed expression. “Huh? Oh yeah, sure.” She backed away, almost tripping over the ugly tree. “I… I’d better take Leo for that hot chocolate I promised him when we pulled up. Can you handle the tree?”
Space between them wasn’t going to erase what just happened, but he let her go with a nod, ignoring the sigh from the crowd. He stood there as they dispersed, him and that damn ugly tree, the familiar loneliness an unwanted ache in his chest.
Chapter 9
Molly sipped cocoa with Leo and luxuriated in the warmth of a roaring bonfire. Chatting customers milled around the extensive snack table, enjoying butter tart squares, Nanaimo bars, pumpkin pie squares, and shortbread cookies for one dollar apiece. She’d opted for a cookie for herself and a Nanaimo bar for Leo. She’d be lucky to get him to sleep before midnight with all the extra sugar and excitement but didn’t really mind. After the chaotic move, this downtime was needed.
Besides, Christmas was only a couple of weeks away.
“Have you written your list for Santa?” she asked her son, swiping the chocolate on his lip with a napkin. “There’s not much time. We need to get it mailed to the North Pole, remember.”
Leo ducked away from her ministrations and stuffed the last bite into his mouth. “Wha… if ’e can’t read my writing?”
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” she reprimanded. “Santa can read all the children’s wishes, and there’s nothing wrong with your printing anyway. You do a fine job with your letters.”
His father had pestered him to try harder over everything. It had been a big bone of contention between them. After all, Leo was only five. He wasn’t even in school yet and already knew his ABC’s. Jason needed to let the kid be a kid. There was plenty of time for him to excel in his studies.
“Well, hello there.” A pleasant-looking man with a flowing white beard in faded coveralls and a logger’s jacket smiled down at Leo. “I see you found my wife’s magic hot chocolate. We get people from three counties over driving here just to fill up their thermoses, you know.” His eyes twinkled with good humor. “Have you seen my puppies yet? They’re running around here somewhere. Probably gettin’ themselves into mischief. They like to nip at scarves and mitts.” He held up his own gloves to show the pulled threads and teeth marks in the leather fingers.
Leo’s eyes grew big. “There was more than one?” he asked, completely overlooking the whole biting thing.
“Ho, ho, ho, oh yes!” The jolly man chortled. “Ol’ Maisey gave birth to nine of the critters. It’s hard to keep track of ’em all.” He patted his rotund belly.
“Don’t let Chris talk you into taking one of our puppies.” A gray-haired matron with rosy cheeks joined them. “He’s bound and determined they have to be gone by Christmas, or else…”
“Or else what?” Leo whispered, his mouth hanging in awe.
Molly was a little tongue-tied herself. If she didn’t know better… “I imagine you won’t have any trouble finding homes. The pup we saw was beautiful.” She glanced around the fire to see if anyone else found the couple… well, strange. But no one paid them any mind. It was as though they were in their own little world.
Where the heck was Noah?
“They are a handsome lot,” Chris agreed. “It’s just that the bigger they get, the more they eat. Soon, me and Mary here won’t be able to feed ourselves. And as you can see, I like my food.” He chuckled and rubbed his tummy.
“We
could make flyers and hand them out to our guests,” Molly suggested. “I’m a new partner at a bed and breakfast in town. Maybe you’ve heard of it, the Mistletoe Inn?”
“Oh.” Mary clasped her hands to her substantial bosom. “The Kincaid place. We were so very sorry for Noah’s loss. Betty was a long-standing customer of ours. Always bought the Douglas fir. Said it reminded her of her childhood.” Mary dragged a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes. “She did a lot for the community, and for that handsome nephew of hers, poor boy. After the fire… well, it was a tough time for the both of them, it was.”
“Fire?” Molly knew she was treading dangerous ground, but the urge to learn more about her enigmatic partner won out.
Chris drew a squiggly line down his cheek. “Noah was little more than a boy at the time. The fire started in the attic. He did everything he could to save them, but his parents didn’t stand a chance. By the time emergency crews arrived the right side of the house was engulfed, and he lay unconscious on the stairs. Another few minutes and…”
Embers popped sending a shower of sparks into the air. Molly gasped. She’d been so caught up in the tale she’d forgotten where they were for a moment. Poor Noah. She couldn’t imagine the pain he’d gone through. And to lose his family that way… horrible, just horrible.
“Mommy, is that why Mr. Kincaid has a creepy face?” Leo asked.
Molly frowned. “Mr. Kincaid’s face is not scary. And you know better than to make those kinds of comments, young man.”
“Leave him be, the kid’s just telling it like he sees it.” Noah appeared out of the dark, his eyes glinting in the firelight.
Embarrassed on her son’s behalf and drawn to the pain she sensed hovering under Noah’s tough façade, Molly held out the shortbread wrapped in a white paper doily. “I bought you a cookie.” As peace-offerings went, it was sadly lacking, but she held her breath until he accepted it, nonetheless.
He nodded toward the elderly couple. “Guess I don’t need to ask who did the baking. Mary’s sweets are famous in these parts.”
“I can understand why, these are fabulous.” Molly smiled. “We could use someone with your talent at the inn.” Darn her impulsiveness, she had no idea whether they could afford to be hiring out or not. She chanced a glance at Noah and was relieved to see him nodding his head.
“She’s right. I should have thought of it sooner. Any chance we could talk a deal on morning pastries, Mary?” He finished his cookie and balled up the wrapper before tossing it into the flames. Leo watched with wide-eyed wonder as the paper doily caught fire and burned a bright blue until it disintegrated.
Chris and Mary seemed to negotiate a private conversation with their eyes, then Chris held out his hand. “Tell you what, this is a right busy time of the year for me and I ain’t getting any younger. If you could see your way to delivering a few of these here trees, Mary and I would be right obliged. She always bakes more than she can sell in the Sweet Shop. I’m sure she’d be willing to set aside a tray or two for your guests.” He waited for Mary’s beaming smile. “Do we have a deal?”
Noah grasped the other man’s hand and shook. “We do.”
“Well, good. Now we have that sorted out, did you decide on your Christmas tree?”
Noah met Molly’s gaze and a warmth that had nothing to do with the fire heated her chest. “Yes, sir. Molly picked out a special tree. It’s going to look just fine once we get it decorated.” He nudged Leo. “I’m going to need your help, okay?”
Leo held his ground, though she could see the big man intimidated him. “Sure,” he said. “Mommy doesn’t let me hang the balls though, she says it’s dangerous.”
Noah raised his brow. “Well, I think I have some you can handle. They’re collectibles though, so you need to be careful. My aunt bought a new one every year, and she saved some I made as a kid.”
“Cool.” Leo turned to Molly. “Can I make a ball for the tree? Please, Mommy?”
She laughed. “Look what you started now.” Her smile encompassed the adults. “Once he gets something in his head, he’s like a dog with a bone. He won’t let it drop.”
At the mention of dog, Leo’s attention flipped to the puppies again. “I’m asking for one of ol’ Maisey’s pups when I write to Santa Claus. Then I’ll get one for sure. Right, Mom?” He stared up at her with his heart in his eyes.
She started to shake her head while trying to come up with a way to let him down gently when Noah stopped her.
“Santa only answers the wishes of children who are good. So, if you want him to hear you, you know what to do, right?” He met her gaze and winked. Winked.
She tried to ignore the jumble of butterflies swirling in her chest to issue a timely warning. “Sometimes, Santa brings things you need, even if you didn’t ask for them. It’s important to be grateful, no matter what. Okay?”
Leo nodded, but she could see he wasn’t really listening. In his mind, he was probably already picking out names for his new puppy.
She moved closer to Noah. “You shouldn’t lead him on. He’ll be hurt Christmas morning.”
He seemed about to say something, but then changed it to, “What did you think of the Kringles?”
Stunned, she whirled around but the elderly couple had disappeared into the thinning crowd. She looked to see if Noah was teasing her, but he appeared serious. “As in Chris and Mary Kringle?” she asked, just to be certain.
“They’re snowbirds. They travel all summer, but always come home in time for winter,” he said. “They swear there’s nowhere else they’d rather be than Christmas for the holidays.”
As she watched the flames flicker and dance, Molly had to agree. This little town was taking hold of her heart, too. Noah lifted a tired Leo into his arms for the trek back to the parking lot.
Or maybe it was the people who lived here.
Chapter 10
Noah took a break from splitting the cord of wood his neighbor had delivered over the weekend. He sank the axe into the chopping block and wiped a tired hand over his brow. In the distance he could see the Andersons, their newlywed guests, cross-country skiing on the trail he’d groomed through the trees. And off to the side, the Hendersons were taking advantage of the sunny day to skate on the frozen pond with their kids, one boy, and the other a cute girl who’d taken to Molly’s son. They’d been too busy with the appearance of their guests to talk much, but he was pleased with her innate ability to make the new arrivals feel at home. Within an hour of their check-ins, Molly had already ascertained their meal preferences, given a guided tour of the house, and handed out brochures she’d made filled with upcoming local activities.
Different than when he’d been forced to handle things himself after his aunt went into the hospital. His heart still ached with the loss. She would have liked Molly and young Leo. They added life to the tired old farmhouse. Empty, dusty rooms, now sparkled with cleanliness, the scent of lemon a welcome change from mildew. Instead of silence, the house rang with laughter. The McCartys were a breath of fresh air.
Blaze lifted his head from his front paws, and gazed at the front door, ears perked. Sure enough, a moment later the door opened, and the object of Noah’s thoughts spilled onto the porch in joyful ribbons of color. Molly wore a powder pink parka with a white fur hood framing her gorgeous face, and dark jeans that highlighted long, slender legs. She caught sight of him and lifted her hand in greeting, her smile doing crazy things to his pulse. Leo followed close behind in a neon green snowsuit and toque. The minute Blaze saw him he was on his feet and bounding for the stairs.
“Traitor,” Noah muttered, wishing he could do the same. He bent and grabbed some wood to add to his stack near the back door. Turning for another armload he was treated to the vision of Molly’s shapely rear in the air as she bowed over for some sticks to give him a hand. He sucked in a rough draft of cold air and immediately started coughing.
Molly straightened—damn—and stared at him with furrowed brows. “Are you okay?”<
br />
He managed a nod and cleared his throat. “Just a frog in my throat. No big deal.”
“You swallowed a frog?” Leo asked, bug-eyed.
Molly laughed. “It’s an idiom, kind of like when I say you have ants in your pants. It just means his throat is dry. Maybe you could run into the house and grab Mr. Kincaid a bottle of water?”
Leo started to shake his head, took one glance at the look his mother gave him, and turned for the house, Blaze trailing in his wake.
“And don’t forget to take off those boots, I just washed the floor,” Molly yelled.
Noah stepped close and took the wood from her arms. Her eyes rivaled the brilliance of the crisp, blue sky, stealing his breath. Tendrils of wavy blond hair wrapped themselves under her delicate chin. He gave into the impulse to brush them away and lingered, her skin as soft as the fur of her hood tickling the back of his hand. She licked her lips, leaving them plump and moist. Kissable. His gaze narrowed, the urge to taste overcoming common sense.
He lowered his head.
She lifted her face like a flower to the sun.
His eyes closed in anticipation.
“Hello there,” a voice called out cheerfully.
Noah froze.
Molly stared at him before scrambling to put space between them. Noah’s hand fell away, years of self-preservation kicking in to protect his heart from the horror he’d read in her eyes and the nervous smile she gave the Andersons.
“How are the trails?” she asked as they skied closer.
Sandy Anderson laughed. “The trails are great. My technique, on the other hand, could use some help.”
Her husband, Doug, pointed his pole toward the tree line. “Nice place you have here. How far back does it go?”
Noah shrugged. “Ten acres, give or take. My aunt kept most of it as natural growth forest, except for the area around the house and pond.”
Aunt Betty insisted it was their duty to preserve the land, not destroy it. She’d believed in Albert Einstein’s quote. Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. “Listen, baby boy,” she’d say, “there’s peace to be found in a wind’s soft sigh, the sweet song of a robin, and gentle sway of the trees—Heaven’s cathedrals.”
Mistletoe Inn Page 4
