The remnants of dinner and dessert cleared, they moved on to the gift portion of the evening. A dressed Santa in red-and-white velvet was stationed at each tree handing out gifts to the kids.
Emmett watched from afar, sipping on a cup of cocoa delivered to him by Lakesha with another wink, a squeeze of his biceps and a “Congratulations, again!” And then something remarkable happened. He began to feel comfortable at the last place he should—at a charity dinner for the financially challenged...and as Stefanie’s fiancé with only a few hours to go until they were husband and wife.
Ten
“That’s new.” Stefanie let out an uncomfortable laugh when she spotted what was hanging over the entrance of the B and B.
“What’s new?” Emmett asked as he turned into the driveway.
“Mistletoe. Yikes.”
“Thought you loved Christmas. Isn’t mistletoe a holiday staple?”
“No.” She had firm feelings about it and none of them were positive.
“No?” His tone was bemused. He parked, but let the engine idle, turning to face her in the dark cab of the SUV. “You’re a romantic who loves Christmas and you don’t put stock in the tradition of kissing beneath the mistletoe?”
“Well...neither do you, Scrooge. What’s the big deal?”
“The big deal is that it makes sense for me because I hate Christmas, but you... It makes no sense.”
They had a narrow-eyed standoff. “O Holy Night” played quietly on the radio alongside the gentle blow of heat from the vents.
“I told you my story. Tell me yours.”
He had her there. On a sigh, she began the sordid tale.
“I was at a Christmas party with my parents when I was thirteen. This kid in my class—a piggish oaf named Reggie Meeks—grabbed me and kissed me underneath the mistletoe. Then he bragged to his stupid friends that I made out with him. Like, hot and heavy made out. Meanwhile, I ran into the nearest bathroom and swished with mouthwash until my teeth hurt.”
Emmett chuckled.
“It’s not funny!”
“You’re right.” He sobered some but his lips quirked as if he was hiding a smile. “He has an unfortunate name and it’s not his fault.”
She balled up her fist and punched Emmett’s arm, which was like hitting a steel beam. She shook her hand out and frowned.
“I’m kidding.” He took her hand and rubbed her knuckles, his palm warm and his eyes warmer. “It’s not funny that a kid bullied you into a kiss. But holding a grudge against an innocent plant is criminal. You didn’t make any new memories under the mistletoe after that?”
“Nope. One kiss from Reggie and I was scarred for life.” She shuddered and this time Emmett’s soft laughter didn’t rankle her. “Thank you. For coming with me to the dinner. I could tell you didn’t want to be there. I’m sure there was enough Christmas cheer in there to make you want to hide in a cave.”
“It wasn’t so bad.” He let go of her hand and watched out the windshield, the attractive planes of his face highlighted in the dashboard lights.
He’d been through hell on Christmas Day, and he’d sworn off the happiest holiday because of it. He of all people should understand her grudge against kissing under mistletoe.
How about that? They had something in common.
Outside, the cold wind bit through her clothes and chilled her skin. Emmett walked beside her, head down, hands in his pockets.
“The big moment is fast approaching.” He stopped at the bottom of three steps leading to the door. “You sure you want to do this?”
“Positive. I don’t like being bullied. By Reggie Meeks or Blake Eastwood. I refuse to let Blake push me around like...” She trailed off, considering she might be doing the same to Emmett. Meeting his dark stare, she proceeded carefully. “Are you sure you want to do this? Are you feeling pressured? I’d never want to put you in a position—”
He cut off her words with a kiss before she knew what had hit her. His arm lashed against her lower back, he hauled her against the hard wall of his body and laid his lips on hers. The touch of his mouth to hers ignited sparks between them and suddenly the cold air didn’t feel so cold.
Her gloveless fingers curled into the lapels of his coat and she dragged him closer, the scrape of the scruff on his chin chafing her sensitive skin. He finished the kiss with one brief stroke of his tongue before reverently kissing her top lip, then her bottom lip. He held her close as she inhaled a ragged breath and blew it out on a puff of steam. He cocked an eyebrow as if waiting for her reaction, but she couldn’t muster up one save clinging to him like garland around a Christmas tree.
His eyes turned up and hers followed, to the mistletoe dangling overhead. When their gazes met again, he said, “Time for both of us to make better Christmas memories.”
* * *
“Oh my heavens! I knew that mistletoe was a bad idea.” Margaret stood at the B and B’s front door, having flung it open. Their hostess’s eyes danced merrily. “I’m teasing. If I were getting married at the stroke of midnight on Christmas Day I’d feel romantic, too.”
Stef slipped away from him, sending him a flirty little smile before wrapping her arm in Margaret’s. They walked inside, Stef and Margaret chattering about the ceremony, Emmett hanging back. Margaret’s son, the officiant of the wedding, stood in the foyer eating a piece of pie. He put his fork down to shake Emmett’s hand.
Emmett listened with half an ear as Lyle discussed the upcoming ceremony, but his attention was on Stefanie. She was wringing her fingers like she was the one with a case of the nerves. He could understand why. She’d probably been planning her future wedding day since she was a young girl, and he hazarded the very safe guess that it didn’t involve marrying a man like him. She’d been stoic about their nuptials so far. This was the first time he’d seen her jittery.
A cocky part of him wanted to believe that it wasn’t their wedding that had knocked her off-kilter, but the kiss. It sure as hell had short-circuited his brain.
Sliding a stray lock of blond hair behind her ear, she stole a quick look at him, her lashes dipping almost demurely. They’d share another kiss like that soon enough, this time in front of an audience since Margaret had arranged for a few of the B and B guests to be in attendance for the ceremony.
“I also made a cake.” Margaret waved when Stefanie protested that she didn’t have to do that, and argued, “It was my pleasure. Now, you two go upstairs and change. When you hear the music, you come on in and we’ll start... Unless you had a more formal entrance in mind?”
“No...” Stefanie’s eyes flashed to Emmett’s like she was checking in with him. He agreed with a subtle head shake. “We want to keep it simple.”
At the stairs, she gripped the banister, and he took her other hand, gently weaving his fingers with hers as they ascended the staircase. He only let her go to unlock their room and usher her in.
“Do you want to change in here or the bathroom?” she asked, taking the bagged dress from the closet and tossing it onto the bed. “Or should we adhere to the notion that it’s bad luck if you see me in the dress before the wedding?”
She wasn’t asking for reassurance. The expression on her face was sheer determination. No longer jittery, she was a woman on a mission.
“I think the concept of bad luck is bullshit.”
“Doesn’t buy into the concepts of Christmas miracles or true love or bad luck. Got it.”
“I didn’t say anything about love.” He might be incomplete, his heart less than whole, but he’d seen plenty of evidence that true love exists. Chase and Miriam. Zach and Penelope. Even Stef’s parents, Rider and Elle. Just because it wasn’t in the cards for Emmett didn’t mean it wasn’t real. “But you’re right on the other two.”
She unzipped the garment bag, revealing a sheath of white. He fought the urge to turn his back. To give her privacy
or to keep himself in suspense, he wasn’t sure which.
“I find it hard to believe you’d agree to marry me out of obligation if you thought your Mrs. Right was out there.”
“I agreed to marry you because you made a good case for me to do so. Also, it’s terrifying to think of some poor woman tied to me for life.”
“That’s an awful thing to say to your fiancée!” Her tone was teasing, and so was the feisty twinkle in her eyes.
“My fiancée was smart enough to include an escape hatch. You’ll be done with me in a few months’ time.”
Which was best for all parties involved. He could give her what she needed in this moment—a husband—but couldn’t give her the forever kind of love she deserved.
He tipped her chin, tempted to kiss her again to feel her lips soften beneath his. He liked the way she’d melted against him earlier; liked the heated way she looked at him now.
“I’ll change first and meet you downstairs. Do you need help with the dress?”
“I’ve got it.”
“Is it bad luck to kiss my bride before the wedding if she’s not in her wedding dress?”
“I don’t think so.” She gripped his coat with both hands and tugged him closer. “Kisses are usually good luck.”
“Good luck,” he said as he lowered his mouth to hers, “I believe in.”
Eleven
Her husband-to-be was ready in minutes, dressed in dark slacks and a white shirt, with a tie he’d purchased in town. At her request, he’d tried on a few suits at the store, but after unsuccessfully wedging his wide shoulders into three ill-fitting jackets, she’d given him a pass.
Even so, he looked really good in the cheery red tie that arrowed down his torso and pointed at the thick leather belt. Good enough that she’d given that tie a yank and brought his lips to hers for another kiss.
How they’d return to this room as husband and wife and keep their hands off each other was beyond her. It was also a prospect that was becoming less and less desirable. They hadn’t talked about how they’d proceed, but a loveless and celibate marriage seemed unfair, unpleasant at best.
She had no doubt Emmett would be able to compartmentalize sex apart from love and marriage, but could she? In theory it sounded easy, but in practice...
Sex muddied the mind and blurred lines. And whenever a past relationship inevitably met its demise, love had been unmasked to reveal its true identity: infatuation.
Love had been an elusive beast for Stef so far. It was one of the reasons she was sure that an arranged marriage with Emmett would work. How could two people who hated each other fall for each other? But the kisses they’d shared so far were proof that he had a bigger effect on her than she’d previously acknowledged.
A physical effect.
While she didn’t have a problem with attraction, being attracted to him was foreign. And like any other unfamiliar circumstance, she was both excited and nervous to explore. Could they proceed without getting carried away? She wasn’t sure. Even the most carefully managed campfire had the potential to spread.
A soft rap on her door brought her out of her ponderings. Margaret’s muffled voice announced, “Do you need help with anything, dear?”
When Stefanie opened the door Margaret cupped her mouth with her hands, the older woman’s eyes welling with tears.
“Oh, you’re a vision!”
“Thank you.” Stef turned to admire her dress in the full-length mirror standing in the corner of the room. The sheath dress featured a lacy pattern over the bodice and slim skirt. The halter neckline was supported by thin spaghetti straps that ran over her shoulder blades, fastening at the middle of her back. There was a cutout showing a slice of her lower back. It was sexy but simple—exactly her taste.
“I brought you this, but you don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to.” From behind her back, Margaret produced a hair clip studded with white baby’s breath, green leaves and poinsettia petals. “Is it too much?”
“Not at all.” Stefanie stroked the petals of the delicate live bouquet. “It’s beautiful.”
“I made it.” Margaret pointed at the greenery. “That’s mistletoe. We had extra.”
Stef chuckled. To new Christmas memories indeed.
She turned around and Margaret fastened the flowers in place at the back of Stefanie’s updo.
“I have your bouquet downstairs waiting for you. My, does your man look handsome.”
“Yes, he has that way about him. Does he also look nervous?”
“My son poured him a few inches of bourbon and joined him in a prewedding toast. Lyle says that it’s common practice whenever he officiates a ceremony. But to answer your question, no. Emmett doesn’t seem nervous. More...excited. Like he’s anticipating seeing you. You’re going to knock him out cold.”
“Maybe I overshot it.” Stefanie swept her hands down her sleek skirt. “My goal was simply to keep him at the ceremony until the end.”
“Don’t worry about that. I’ll lock the front door.” Margaret elbowed Stef’s arm playfully. “Want me to walk down with you? I’ll situate the train of your dress and then run downstairs and out of the way.”
At the staircase, Margaret took up a length of the dress’s skirt and spread it behind her. Stef rested her hand on the railing to keep from tumbling face-first into her own wedding. Her heart pounded mercilessly with each step she took, her mind on her family and how they were going to absolutely freak out when they learned she’d done this without them.
“Miles!” Margaret called from the top of the stairs. “Your photographer,” she whispered to Stefanie. “I’ll step out of your shot.”
Margaret fluffed Stefanie’s dress once more before a thin man with a thick dark mustache stepped around the corner. He lifted his camera, and Stef did her best to hide her thoughts about her family and focus on the present. She smiled as she had for years of family portraits and interviews and a zillion Ferguson Oil events. She was schooled in how to smile with her eyes and position her face for the most flattering angle. As a flash lit the room, she carefully walked down the stairs as classic Christmas carols played in the living room.
Five steps from the bottom, though, her smile faltered, the photographer and guests and background music forgotten. Emmett had been en route to the living room but didn’t make it all the way in. He stopped, frozen solid, his mouth dropped open in a gentle gape. Blue-gray eyes scanned her from head to toe, heating when they returned to meet hers.
Margaret tutted and took his arm, practically dragging him into the living room, but not before Emmett’s lips curved and he threw Stefanie a sexy, devil-may-care wink over his shoulder.
* * *
From his position next to the minister, Emmett swallowed past a dry throat and rubbed together sweaty palms. He’d fooled himself into believing that standing in as a groom would be the same as serving as a groomsman...not that he’d done that before, either. But he’d attended weddings before, so he knew the routine.
Watching Stefanie walk toward him in a long white dress was nothing like watching another bride make her way to her groom—mostly because this time, the groom was him.
“You’ve got this,” Margaret’s son, Lyle, assured him under his breath. He dipped his chin and opened his Bible, and Emmett felt a wobble in his knees that made him wonder how many grooms bit the dust before the vows started.
If what he was feeling were nerves, that’d be not only normal, but expected. But it wasn’t nerves that he was struggling with. It was responsibility.
Emmett didn’t take his responsibility for others lightly, including this trip with Stefanie. He’d mistakenly assumed that his responsibility was untangling her from Blake by marrying him herself. That the act of saying “I do” would be the end of it.
Wrong.
Stefanie, a red smile on her mouth, her blond hair wound so
ftly at the back of her head, a bouquet of red poinsettias offsetting the stark white of her dress, had made him feel another sort of responsibility for her. He was overcome with the notion of becoming a husband.
Her husband.
Right here. Right now. In front of God and witnesses. And there was nothing mild about that commitment.
In the same way he worked hard to assure himself he earned every dollar he was paid, he wasn’t going to marry Stefanie halfway. No matter how they’d originally thought this would go, for him, the ceremony was real. In every way.
Stefanie came to a stop in front of him and sureness rang through him, resonating like a church bell. He wouldn’t enter into this commitment lightly. He would give himself to her—as much as he was able—for as long as this marriage lasted.
Margaret stepped in to take Stefanie’s bouquet and Lyle instructed Emmett to hold Stefanie’s hands.
He did as he was asked, clasping his bride’s fingers with his own and meeting her gaze. He nearly sailed off into her aquamarine eyes.
Vows were repeated.
Rings were exchanged.
Her soft “I do” socked him like a punch to the gut.
“What God has joined together, let no one separate.” Lyle closed his Bible. “You may now kiss your bride.”
Emmett leaned in and pressed his lips to Stefanie’s for what was supposed to be a brief kiss. It didn’t stay that way. Moving his mouth on hers now that they were married came with a proprietary feeling, giving their union meaning beyond the agreement they’d made. Every pass of his lips over hers was him claiming her as his.
When the kiss ended, their small audience applauded.
His bride’s eyes twinkled like the white lights draped over every surface in the room, her beautiful form silhouetted against a white-and-gold Christmas tree. He itched to haul her over his shoulder and take her upstairs, wanting nothing more than to continue their kiss and see how far she’d let him take her.
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