Mary Margaret faced Lola. “How did you ever forgive Randy for cheating on you?” Immediately, she regretted her question. “I’m sorry. I had no right to ask.”
Before Lola married Randy, he’d slept around, including one night with Mary Margaret during the two weeks Derek had left her. But Randy hadn’t stopped sleeping around after he’d married Lola, and Lola hadn’t found out until a year after he died.
“It’s all right, because…” Lola tried to laugh. “You know, it took a while but I finally realized Randy loved me. Well, he loved a lot of women. But I think he needed love like…like…”
“Like Derek needed to gamble.”
Lola’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, maybe. Maybe our dead husbands were both searching for something in all the wrong places. But when all was said and done, I still loved Randy, and I know that, in his own way, he loved and needed me.” She shook herself. “You’ll forgive Derek someday, when you’re ready to move on.”
“When I finish clearing up his debts.” Which was still a long, long way off. She’d made eight hundred bucks tonight. Could she get away with dancing at the Hanky Panky for three months? “Why are you turning here?”
Lola drove through the neighborhood of streets that competed for the annual title of Most Christmas Spirit—Sunshine’s Christmas Tree Lane. “Because I think you need a dose of holiday cheer. You know. Ho-ho-ho, Merry Christmas. Let’s hug and celebrate life with the ones you love.”
“I owe you a bottle of wine,” Mary Margaret admitted, spirits lifting now that she was almost home.
Lola nodded. “And you owe me the story behind all this when you’re ready.”
Mary Margaret settled back to enjoy the simple beauty of Christmas.
Despite the late hour, most of the Christmas lights were still on. Some houses were decorated all in small white lights. Some homes were illuminated by big, colorful bulbs. There were homes with nativity scenes and with wooden cutouts of Snoopy and the Peanuts gang. An inflatable Darth Vader took a swing with his light saber at a Christmas tree. Santa’s sleigh sat on the corner, reminding Mary Margaret of Kevin.
“Feel better?” Lola pulled into Mary Margaret’s driveway.
Thankfully, there was no black Town Car in sight.
“Yes.” Mary Margaret hugged her. “Thank you.”
Her outdoor Christmas lights were on, cheery and welcoming, but there was a not-so-cheery handwritten note tucked in the crack between the door and the frame.
Payment Due Sunday.
Chapter Ten
Kevin picked up Tad at his parents’ house Saturday morning still thinking about Foxy Roxy.
That kiss had sizzled. Had he broken one of her rules by letting the fire ignite between them? By drawing her close and wishing for a fantasy fulfilled?
It didn’t matter. She’d run away, which was for the best. He’d never had a one-night stand, and he shouldn’t start now while a political opportunity loomed. Mary Margaret was the one he needed. She was so much more than a one-night stand.
“We’re going to pick out a Christmas tree, buddy,” Kevin told Tad while greeting Chester. “Get your snow boots on.”
“We’ll go in my truck.” Dad delivered his proclamation like a judge passing sentence.
“I guess Grandpa wants to talk to me about mayor stuff.” Kevin winked at Tad, who giggled.
“Comedian,” Dad scoffed, adding in a low voice, “Make sure you tell your mother how nice her miniature Victorian village looks. She spent hours setting it up on the coffee table.”
“All right.” Kevin said in a loud voice so Mom could hear, “Fabulous village this year, Mom.”
Dad gave him a thumbs-up.
Tad gasped and rushed closer to the village. “There’s a ninja sneaking around behind this house.” He raised his face to the ceiling. “Ninja Christmases are awesome!”
After Kevin’s mother accepted more compliments, they all piled into his father’s truck.
Dad wasted no time speaking his mind. “What does the party say your chances are in this race?”
“They didn’t say.” Kevin made a face at Tad, who’d claimed Kevin’s cell phone and started to play a game.
“What kind of resources are at your disposal?” He caught Kevin’s gaze in the rearview mirror. “Speech writers? Pollsters? Branches of the party’s volunteer network?”
“We didn’t talk about that. The most they got into was campaign finance law in the state of Colorado.”
“In other words, they grilled you on you.” The lines around Dad’s eyes relaxed. “Nothing’s been decided.”
“Nothing’s been decided.” Kevin sighed, unable to stop the feeling that this was his time. And yet unable to stop guilt from gripping his bad shoulder for being disloyal to his father and meddling in Mary Margaret’s life when they weren’t even dating. “Worst case, this time next year I’ll still be your mayor.”
“Nobody’s tenure lasts forever,” his mother said, applying lipstick in the visor mirror. “And your father would like to retire someday. You should spend a little more time down at the furniture shop. Things have changed since you worked there.”
“I’m sure they’ll change a lot more before his political career is over,” Dad said gruffly.
“How about we talk about our Christmas lists? You know, Mom, men’s fashion socks are the new power tie. Hint, hint.” Kevin rarely wore a tie, and it was his mother’s standard gift.
“Ninja-ninja-ninja,” Tad murmured, proving he was listening.
“How about I tell you about the new client your father landed?” His mother continued to talk about the family business during the thirty-minute drive to the Christmas tree farm.
There were several Sunshine residents’ vehicles at The Woodsman’s Tree Farm, including Sandy Franklin’s truck. Her daughter, Elizabeth, was in Tad’s class.
As soon as his father parked, Kevin grabbed Tad and a saw from the tree farm kiosk and headed for the least populated section of the tree farm—the one with the trees shorter than six feet.
He rushed around a rather broad tree and nearly tripped over Mary Margaret. She sat between two thick branches, playing a game of solitaire on her phone.
“Ms. Sneed!” Tad fell into her lap as naturally as if he used her as a chair every day. “What are you doing on the ground?”
“Hiding from holiday cheer,” Kevin murmured.
“Hi.” Blushing, she hugged Tad. “Are you here for a tree?” She paused. “Duh. Of course you are. I’m not in the market for a tree this year but my grandmother is. Except she saw David Jessup and asked me to skedaddle.”
“We’re hiding too.” Tad rocked from side to side in her lap. “Grandma and Grandpa were talking about furniture the whole drive.” He fake snored. At the sound of voices nearby, he tugged Kevin’s hand. “Dad, you’re too tall. Grandpa will see.”
“We can’t hide out forever.” Kevin sank to his knees, setting the saw aside. Unlike Mary Margaret, he wasn’t wearing snow pants. Almost immediately, his jeans were soaked. And then he looked into Mary Margaret’s eyes over the red pom-pom of Tad’s knit cap and forgot about cold banks of snow. “Although we might try.”
Kissing Roxy had been one of those surreal never-happen-again moments. Mary Margaret was real. He wanted to hide out with her, test the fit of her hand in his, talk about things that mattered. But there were the approaching voices. And, of course, Tad.
His son tossed him a bone. “Let’s pretend we’re ninjas and have a snowball fight.” He scrambled to his feet and scampered between the trees.
“Let’s pretend…” Kevin began, his gaze sinking to Mary Margaret’s lips. He leaned forward. “That we’re Mr. and Mrs. Claus.” That earned him an indulgent smile. He leaned closer. “And we’re hiding from the elves under a bouquet of mistletoe.”
She glanced at his mouth and gave a clear sigh of longing.
He’d show her how hot Mr. Claus could be without his beard and maybe infuse her with a little holiday spirit.
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A snowy projectile glanced off his head and onto Mary Margaret’s jacket.
“Ninja strike!” Tad cried, popping out from behind a tree to clench his fist in a sign of victory. And then he scurried off again.
“Hold that thought, Mrs. Claus.” Kevin helped Mary Margaret to her feet. “Ninja retaliation.” He darted behind a tree, scooping up snow as he did.
A snowball hit him in the back.
Mary Margaret’s laughter came to him from his left. He caught a flash of red hair streaming below her knit cap as she ran between two fir trees.
The image of another woman running through the snow came to mind, and for a moment, the two images blended together.
A snowball sailed past his nose.
“Shoot!” Tad jumped up and down. “I missed.”
Kevin forgot about women fleeing the scene and tossed his snowball at Tad. It hit him square on the chest. “Ninja bull’s-eye.”
“Ninja vanish.” Tad disappeared once more.
Kevin bent to scoop up more snow. Another snowball flew through the air, exploding in the tree behind him.
“Ninja miss,” Mary Margaret called.
Crouched where he was, Kevin made three snowballs.
Tad leaped from behind a tree, arm drawn back to fire. “Ninja attack!”
Kevin fired, landing one on Tad’s leg. His son disappeared, giggling.
Red hair and a broad grin appeared to the side of a nearby tree. A snowball arced through the air in a horrible miss.
“That doesn’t even qualify as a ninja missile,” Kevin taunted. A sound behind him had Kevin whirling and firing.
His snowball landed in his father’s face. Dad wiped it away with a gloved hand. “What’s going on here?”
Kevin hesitated but then he saw Tad and Mary Margaret closing in. “Ninja free-for-all.” He scooped up snow and threw it at his dad.
Tad and Mary Margaret did the same.
His father ran for cover, promising retribution.
As one, Tad and Mary Margaret appeared and creamed Kevin with snowballs.
It was all-out war for a few minutes after that.
“Can’t catch me.” Tad giggled and ran.
“Or me.” Mary Margaret didn’t giggle. She just ran.
Kevin tackled her, spinning mid-air so she landed on top of him.
“Oh.” Her breath wafted over his face. Her red hair fell about his shoulders.
It’s perfect. Kiss her.
Tad landed on top of both of them.
Kiss her.
Mary Margaret rolled off Kevin and to the side, sending Tad into a bank of snow.
“Seems a shame to snowball them when they’re down,” Kevin’s mother said.
“There’s no going easy in a snowball fight, Miriam.” Kevin’s father carried a slew of snowballs in the crook of his arm, and he wasn’t shy about using them.
The downed ninjas were pelted with snow. They scrambled to their feet and laughed until their sides hurt.
“Time for a truce and hot chocolate.” Kevin didn’t wait for an answer. He claimed Mary Margaret’s hand and marched toward the refreshment stand.
Mary Margaret chuckled.
“What’s so funny?” he asked with a smile.
“Ninjas.” She laughed some more. “Mr. Ninja Claus.”
He looped her arm through his. “Mr. and Mrs. Ninja Claus.”
Who needed masked exotic dancers when there was Mary Margaret?
* * *
Twice.
That’s how many times Mary Margaret thought Kevin would kiss her among the Christmas trees.
Twice.
That’s how many times Mary Margaret had dodged a bullet.
Because as soon as Kevin’s lips touched hers, she was going to have to keep herself from kissing him wholeheartedly, the way Foxy Roxy had. Because if she did, he might discover who danced behind the mask. But oh, how she longed for him to kiss her again.
In the afterglow of the snowball fight, Mary Margaret had forgotten what was at stake. She’d allowed Kevin to lead her to a picnic table and buy her a hot chocolate topped with miniature marshmallows and chocolate drizzles.
“That was fun.” Richard Hadley smiled at Mary Margaret as if she was something more than his grandchild’s teacher. “I haven’t been in a ninja war in a long time.”
“That’s because Dad said no more ninja attacks on grandparents.” Tad sported a hot chocolate mustache and a pleased-with-himself grin. “Because my attack broke your favorite coffee mug last year.”
“What? No more ninja attacks? Why?” Richard drew back to give his son a look of disbelief. “You think I’m old? You think I can’t take a ninja war?”
“I thought it was a sign of respect…” Kevin grinned. “Old man.”
A verbal ninja sparring match ensued between Kevin and his father.
Their obvious love for each other, combined with the ease with which they teased one another, created an unexpected ache in Mary Margaret’s throat. She’d never had that kind of relationship with her father. And she never would.
“Come on, Tad.” Richard got to his feet, drawing his wife with him and then claiming Kevin’s saw. “Help your decrepit old grandfather pick out a Christmas tree.”
“Okay.” Tad practically tumbled off the picnic bench and grabbed on to his grandparents’ hands.
It was an adorable sight and sharpened the ache in Mary Margaret’s throat.
“Hey.” Kevin took her hand and held it in both of his. “Where’d you go just now?”
She smiled, and the ache in her throat loosened the lock on her secrets. “I was just thinking what a wonderful family you have.”
They’d removed their gloves to drink hot chocolate. His skin was warm against hers, his clasp one of understanding.
“I never had a family like this. My dad had his own church.” Mary Margaret hadn’t realized how much she’d missed holding hands and sharing confidences. “We were supposed to be the perfect family. Kind, giving, selfless. And we were. To others.”
Kevin’s gaze turned distant. “Isn’t it funny how easy it is to forget to love and nurture those closest to you?”
She nodded. “I suppose to my dad I didn’t fit the image of a preacher’s perfect daughter. I was a chunky child, always tripping over my own two feet. They kept my hair short, and it always looked like a bird’s nest. My mom made me wear Easter hats to school in the spring and fall, which did not help me in the popularity department. I think I was seven when they sent me to ballet class, hoping I’d become graceful.” Besides dancing in the kitchen with her mother, that had been the one place Mary Margaret had fit in. Learning how to move to music was nirvana.
Kevin waited for her to say more.
He hadn’t come after Roxy last night when she’d run but he was persistent in his pursuit of Mary Margaret in town. Her heart panged. She needed him to know she wasn’t the woman he thought she was. And the only way to do that was to tell him more of her past. Not all, just enough that he’d understand. She wasn’t meant to be the wife of a politician.
She drew her hand into her lap. The back of her neck felt chilled, exposed. “When he hit me, I fell onto the corner of my dorm room dresser. There were a few days when I didn’t know if I’d walk again.” She dredged up the unwanted memory of being in a hospital bed, of her mother kneeling next to her in prayer. “When you’re a preacher’s kid, your needs always come last. While I was in the hospital, a drunk driver hit a family in our congregation.” The same day her father had hit her. “My father rushed home to support them.” Taking Mom with him. “My grandparents came to stay with me until I was released.”
“That was wrong of your father.” Kevin’s words were colder than the wind coming down the mountain.
“Was it? My dad thinks that I—”
“Don’t say it.” Kevin’s smile was tender. “If you say something bad out loud, it gives the words power. And I can assure you, whatever your father thinks, he’s wrong.” He inch
ed closer to her on the bench, his warmth seeping into her leg, into her veins, into her heart. “I think you’re fabulous. I think fate brought us together, Mrs. Ninja Claus.”
It wouldn’t take much to close the distance between them and kiss. It wouldn’t take much to let all those sparks she was constantly trying to put out build into a flame.
And then what?
I’d tell him the truth.
And he’d walk away, just like her father had done.
“Fate?” Mary Margaret forced a teasing note in her voice but it fell as flat as her dreams of a debt-free life. “You told Rosalie to offer me the Mrs. Claus gig.”
“It was fate that her first choices were felled by the flu.” Kevin gave her shoulder a gentle nudge with his own. “We make a good team. We could go places.”
More than Mary Margaret’s scar went cold. Her father had wanted her to be a part of a good team, to always put her best foot forward, to uphold an image that didn’t ring true.
“Kevin.” There was no more tease to her tone.
He ignored her. “I think we should test the relationship waters with dinner at Los Consuelos.”
“Kevin, I—”
“Or some place more private, like that steak restaurant in Greeley.”
She slid away from him on the bench and lifted one leg over, so she faced him squarely. “Dating me is a bad idea.”
He frowned. “That’s your father talking.”
“You’re darn right it is.” She stood. “But sometimes, Father knows best.”
* * *
“Thank you for helping me find a tree.” Edith batted her eyes at David.
He was so tall and strong, not to mention a good singer. She couldn’t wait to watch him chop down a tree for her.
“It’s no problem,” Mims said in a hard voice. “Seeing as how we were already here.” She put the emphasis on we.
Edith’s smile didn’t dim.
The threesome walked toward a section of tall Douglas firs. Edith sped up a few paces and then slowed down, inserting herself between David and Mims. “It smells fabulous out here, doesn’t it? Like home and family and Christmas.” Like husbands and wives. The competition was so fierce for David’s affection she might have to give up her Widows Club membership to lock him in.
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