Christmas on Mistletoe Lane--Includes a bonus short story

by Annie Rains

  Instead of an older couple, however, a very young couple stared back at her.

  “Yes?” she asked.

  The young man slapped a wiry arm around the girl and pulled her close. “Yeah. We’re hoping to get a room here.”

  Is that a pimple on his cheek? How old are these kids? Do their parents know they’re here?

  Kaitlyn blinked, speechless for a moment. “Umm. Okay. Well, let me check and see if we have availabilities. Please come in,” she said, leading the young couple to the couch. “I’ll be right back.” She took off walking down the hall toward the kitchen to find Mitch.

  Could she in good conscience rent a room to those two kids? Knowing they were likely to have sex?

  “What’s wrong?” Mitch asked, standing with a toolbox just outside her bedroom.

  “We have more guests,” she told him.

  “The Krespos?”

  “No. They’re not here yet. This is a young couple. They look like they might be twenty or possibly younger. They want a room. I can’t give them a room, can I?” Her gaze dropped to his toolbox. “What are you doing outside my bedroom?”

  “Installing a lock. You shouldn’t sleep in a room that doesn’t have one. Any one of the guests could stroll in anytime they want.”

  Including him, she thought, hoping he’d had a hard time going to sleep last night too. After they’d gotten the tree, they’d brought it back here and relieved Mitch’s mom from her post. Then Mitch had returned and had a nightcap with her, keeping a safe six feet of distance between them at all times. As if he were scared that coming any closer might lead to something more.

  “I’m still not so sure about this Paris character,” he continued, as if that explained the lock. “He’s overstaying his welcome. This will be the fifth night.”

  “He’s our guest, and he’s welcome here as long as he wants. So, what do I do?” She intertwined her fingers in front of her, trying to contain her nervous energy.

  “What do you mean?” Mitch asked.

  “I can’t rent them a room, can I? Isn’t there a minimum booking age here? What would Mable have done?”

  He tipped his head and looked at her through long, black eyelashes. It wasn’t fair that a man could have such beautiful lashes.

  “Are you serious? If the kids are legal age and have money, they can do whatever they want.”

  “They want to have…sex,” she said, lowering her voice to a whisper.

  The hallway was dimly lit, and Mitch’s eyes narrowed, pinning her to where she stood. “Everyone who comes here is probably going to want to have sex, Kaitlyn.”

  “Not Paris,” she said, folding her arms in front of her.

  Mitch’s jaw ticked. “He might want sex too. Which is why I’m putting a lock on your door.”

  “Paris and I are not having sex,” she said, keeping her voice low. She hoped he couldn’t see the burn moving up her chest and past her neck.

  “A single man who shows up at a bed and breakfast alone is suspect. Your picture is up on the website now. Maybe he saw it and thought he’d come see if he had a shot with you.”

  “Now you’re being ridiculous.” And completely adorable.

  “I know guys. There are two main things we think about.” He ticked off those things on his fingers. “Food and sex.”

  She swallowed, knowing she shouldn’t ask. “You’re a guy. Is that what you’re thinking about right now?”

  He looked at her long and hard with those dark coffee-stained eyes of his. The ones that made heat swirl in her belly like hot fudge on an ice cream sundae. She melted in the look, and part of her wanted to take his hand, pull him into her bedroom, and test that new lock he was installing. That was the part of her that was a glutton for punishment. The part she was suppressing.

  “Mable would’ve gotten their credit card information and then rented the room to them,” he said, avoiding the question. He gestured down the hall to the living room where the young couple was still waiting. “It’s not your job to judge or condone other people’s sex lives.”

  “That’s not what I’m doing.”

  He lifted a brow. “They’re adults. Give them a room.”

  She pressed her lips together. Then she sucked in a breath and blew it out. “Fine. But I don’t have to like it.” She headed down the hall. “Good news. You’re in luck,” she told the couple and then waited for them to stop French kissing on the couch. The boy with the pimple had roaming hands—one on the girl’s butt and one creeping up her miniskirt. Didn’t she realize it was twenty degrees outside?

  Kaitlyn cleared her throat. “Good news,” she said again, a little louder and more cheerful this time.

  Finally, the couple came up for air.

  “I have availabilities. You’ll be staying in the Pride and Prejudice room. It’s inspired by Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy.”

  “Who are they?” the girl asked, twisting her expression.

  “You know—Jane Austen?” Kaitlyn waited for recognition to cross the couple’s features. From the corner of her eye, she noticed Mitch standing off to the side.

  “All the rooms here are named after famous couples,” Kaitlyn explained. “Scarlett and Rhett, Baby and Johnny, Anne and Gilbert Blythe—my personal favorite.”

  The couple looked at her as if she were speaking an alien tongue.

  “Do you have a Bella and Edward room?” the girl asked.

  Now Kaitlyn stared at them as if they were the ones from another planet.

  “You know, from Twilight.”

  Mitch coughed but Kaitlyn suspected it was really a laugh. She wasn’t amused.

  “No. I’m afraid we don’t have a room named after vampires.”

  The boy shrugged. “We won’t be paying much attention to the decorating anyhow, babe,” he told his girlfriend.

  Kaitlyn glanced over at Mitch. He was right. It wasn’t her job to judge but who came to a bed and breakfast and didn’t pay attention to the décor? “Okay. So, how will you be paying for your stay here?”

  “Plastic,” the overeager boyfriend said, handing her his credit card.

  Kaitlyn ran it, secretly hoping it would be declined. When it wasn’t, she handed the card back and forced a smile. “Well, let me lead you to your room.”

  The couple followed her up the stairs.

  “I can’t wait to get you behind closed doors,” the boy said.

  The girlfriend moaned. “Me either.”

  Do they realize I can hear them?

  “Okayyyyyyy.” Kaitlyn swung open their door. The Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy room deserved so much more than this for its initiation. “Enjoy and let me know if you need anything.”

  “Yeah, we need a DO NOT DISTURB sign.” The boyfriend grinned.

  “Trust me. You won’t be bothered.” Kaitlyn couldn’t leave fast enough. Mitch was waiting for her downstairs. When she saw him, she submitted to a total-body shudder.

  He laughed again, not bothering to hide it this time.

  “I seriously want to call their parents and tell them what’s going on.”

  “They’re probably on fall break from the local college. Mable used to get quite a few couples from there.”

  “And she didn’t mind?”

  “Oh, your grandmother was old-fashioned and romantic. She minded. She didn’t discriminate though.”

  Kaitlyn folded her arms over her chest. “I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Me too,” he said, and the crazy thing was that he sounded like he meant it for once.

  “Hey,” he said, looking a little shy. He scratched his chin and averted his gaze. “Mom wanted me to ask you if you have plans for Thursday.”

  Kaitlyn frowned, forgetting momentarily that this was the week of Thanksgiving. “Oh. No. My parents usually go to an expensive restaurant. Mom doesn’t really like to cook. I’m not even sure she knows how to turn the oven on.” She smiled weakly. “Dad usually wore the apron when I was growing up but he didn’t inherit Grandma Mable’s talent in the kit
chen.”

  Mitch shifted on his feet. “Mom wanted me to ask you to have Thanksgiving with us. Nothing big. It’ll just be me and her.” He shrugged. “Feel free to say no. I told her you probably couldn’t because of the B and B.”

  “Right.” Kaitlyn nodded. “One of us needs to stay when there’s a guest.” Disappointment flooded through her. Going to Gina Hargrove’s home for Thanksgiving would be wonderful. “Hey, I have an idea. Why don’t you invite your mom here? I can’t leave unless you or someone else I trust is watching the place. But she can come here.” Kaitlyn drew her hands to her chest. “And I’m pretty sure Paris doesn’t have any plans. It’d be a shame for him to be all alone.”

  “Maybe he wants to be alone,” Mitch said gruffly. If she didn’t know better, she might think he was jealous of their leather-clad guest.

  “No one wants to be alone, even if they say they do. Do you think your mom will come?”

  Mitch nodded. “I think she’d be thrilled. And she’ll insist on taking over your kitchen to do the cooking. She might allow you to help if you ask nicely.”

  Kaitlyn burst into laughter. “Wow. I was just going to let the day come and go but now I’m actually excited. This is going to be great. Then maybe after dinner, you and I can decorate that Christmas tree of ours.” And yeah, without intending it, there was a flirtatious tone to her voice.

  “Thought you were the decorator in this arrangement,” he said.

  “I am. But you told me, in no uncertain terms, not to get on a ladder without having you around. So you can catch me when I fall.”

  Her heart melted as he smiled back at her. And then it stuttered to a halting stop. She seriously doubted she’d be falling from a ladder. But falling for the man in front of her wasn’t so far-fetched.

  * * *

  On Thanksgiving morning, while the women had been cooking, Mitch made himself useful getting the outdoor holiday decorations out of the storage building. Kaitlyn had already hung the wreaths in the windows a few weeks ago, but Mable had also been putting out a nativity scene alongside a blowup Santa Claus for as far back as he could remember. After spending an hour or so setting them on display just like he and Henry Russo used to, Mitch headed back inside the house.

  The air was thick with spice, butter, and fried things. Mitch had to admit that his mom was an excellent cook. Kaitlyn had been in the kitchen for the last few hours, helping and hopefully doing most of the work. Who was he kidding though? His mom was no doubt bustling around like a darn turkey with its head cut off. Dr. Jacobs’s office still hadn’t called with results but his mom kept insisting she was fine. Mitch wouldn’t believe that until he had proof.

  “Hey, Mitch,” Paris said, coming out of the sitting room.

  “Hey.” Mitch’s mouth wobbled in not quite a smile. He still didn’t trust the guy but his gut was telling him it was for no other reason than Kaitlyn had called Paris attractive that first night. “You able to work down here?” he asked.

  Paris glanced back to the sitting room, where he’d likely left his computer. “Hard to concentrate with the smell of delicious food looming.”

  At this, Mitch gave a sincere laugh.

  “I offered to help but the women shooed me away.”

  “Sounds about right,” Mitch said with a nod. Mitch stood there for another awkward second. Paris was a guest here, and as part owner, Mitch was technically a host. He didn’t know a thing about hosting though. “Want to watch some football while we wait?”

  Paris furrowed his brow. “Nah, man. I don’t watch the games.”

  Mitch felt his whole body relax. “Me neither. That’s just what guys do on Thanksgiving, I guess.” Mitch couldn’t really remember. He’d stayed far from home for the last few Thanksgivings. And Thanksgiving while on shift as an MP meant take-out food at the station and maybe a delicious piece of dessert from one of the wives if he got lucky.

  Paris sat down on the front room’s couch while Mitch took the high-back chair across from it.

  “So, you’re a graphic designer?”

  “That’s right,” Paris said. “I do freelance work.”

  “And you’re just traveling up the coast alone?” he asked, not intending the suspicion that coated his words.

  “I guess you could say that. I lived in Florida when I was married. Divorced now.”

  “Sorry to hear that.”

  “It happens,” Paris said. “It’s not a whole lot of fun when it does. You ever been married?” he asked Mitch.

  Mitch shook his head. He’d never had time to even consider the idea. He’d leaped from high school to the military, from one deployment to another. “No.”

  “Well, it’s a great idea if you find the right one. Otherwise, it’s a really bad idea.” Paris chuckled.

  “All right, you two.” Mitch’s mom came breezing down the hall wearing a food-splattered apron and a huge smile. Kaitlyn followed behind her, looking fresh and beautiful. Mitch breathed a little easier just seeing her face. “Men are allowed to help set the table, so come on.” His mom waved a hand, signaling them back.

  Fifteen minutes later, they all sat around the table for Thanksgiving dinner and began passing dishes of stuffing, lima beans, rolls, cranberry sauce—you name it. This wasn’t so bad. Especially watching how much Kaitlyn seemed to be enjoying herself. That was something to be thankful for.

  As expected, his mom quickly zeroed in on the newest person at the table and started peeling off his layers, which Mitch found a welcome distraction. He’d learned a little bit about their guest but it wouldn’t hurt to learn more.

  “So, what brings you to town, Mr. Montgomery?”

  Paris appeared to flush a little at that title, which Mitch found humorous. “You can call me Paris. I’m here to meet up with the Bikers for Santa group at this weekend’s Lights on the Lake event.”

  Kaitlyn straightened. “I’ve never heard of that. It sounds like fun.”

  “Oh, it is,” Mitch’s mom agreed. “The event always kicks off the holiday season with the lighting of the town’s Christmas tree. It can’t be missed. All the downtown stores stay open late, and they show off their holiday decorations for the first time. There are carolers and fake snow for the kids. The real snow won’t come until later in December or early January, of course.”

  “And there’s an Angel Tree in the town square,” Paris continued. “That’s why the Bikers for Santa are meeting. We’ll all pick an angel off. A kid’s wish list is on the back of each one, and it’s our job to make it come true.”

  “I think that’s a wonderful cause,” Kaitlyn said.

  Mitch had to agree. Of all the reasons he’d expected to hear for why Paris had chosen to come to Sweetwater Springs, this was not one of them.

  Paris shrugged. “I grew up in foster care and had a lot of miserable Christmases. There was only one that was ever worth remembering, and it was here. Seems fitting to be back. I’ve actually been considering moving here.”

  “Really?” Kaitlyn asked, stabbing at several lima beans on her plate.

  He nodded. “Can’t stay at a bed and breakfast forever. I do well with my business but not that well.” He winked across the table, which put Mitch back on guard.

  “Well, there’s a sign posted in Alice Hamilton’s yard. She has a garage apartment for rent,” his mom said.

  “Mom, Ms. Hamilton might be looking for someone a little more…conservative.” Mitch turned to Paris. “No offense.”

  “None taken.”

  “Nonsense. I’ll put in a good word,” his mom promised. “And I’ll bring you over there to introduce you two myself.”

  Paris nodded. “Thanks. That might work out well.”

  “It would put you close to the inn,” Kaitlyn said. “And I was thinking of hiring a good graphic designer soon to help me with some promotional items.”

  “I’ll help any way I can.”

  “That’s perfect.” Mitch’s mom shoveled some sweet potato casserole into her mouth and shook her
head as she chewed and swallowed. “Things just seem to work out exactly how they should. Just like your grandmother leaving this inn to you, Kaitlyn. I know you’re going to love it here.”

  “I wish I could thank her.” Kaitlyn turned to look at Mitch. “Leaving the inn to us was an unexpected gift.”

  Mitch stiffened. To think he’d naively thought the conversation wouldn’t turn to him.

  His mom set her fork down and narrowed her gaze. “Us?” she asked. “Is there something you failed to mention to me, Mitchell Douglas Hargrove? You and Kaitlyn inherited the B and B?”

  He closed his eyes and counted to five before facing her. “Yeah. I’ve, uh, been meaning to mention that. That’s why I came back to Sweetwater Springs.”

  She clapped her hands together. “To run the Sweetwater B and B?” she said, breathless with excitement. “This is fantastic Thanksgiving news!”

  “No, Mom. To sell it.”

  She blinked.

  “The will says that Kaitlyn and I have to run the inn together for two months. Then Kaitlyn can buy me out and run it on her own,” he explained. “That puts me here through the holidays, so stop frowning and be happy.”

  His mom clamped her mouth shut, lifted her fork, and stabbed at a stalk of asparagus. “I am happy you’re home. Especially this time of year.” She looked up with her smile pinned back in place.

  Mitch wasn’t fooled though. He knew she wished he’d make Sweetwater Springs home again. He would do just about anything for his mom but that wasn’t really in the cards. She must’ve known it too because she didn’t bring the subject back up. Instead, she turned the conversation back to the Lights on the Lake event. “You have to go, dear. Mitch can take you, and I’ll watch the B and B. I won’t take no for an answer.” Her eyes shifted to Mitch’s, daring him to break her heart again. “Right, son?”

  Kaitlyn was watching him too.

  The entire town would be at the lighting of the Christmas tree. Not his idea of a good time. He chewed on his food and his excuses—none of which he thought his mom would accept.