For My Own: A Contemporary Christmas Anthology

by Alison Packard, Shari Mikels, Kinley Baker

  It wasn’t her fault she was a bit of a perfectionist when it came to volunteering. Well, maybe it was her fault. And maybe it wasn’t only related to volunteering. Maybe when she’d called it a compulsion to Griff, she hadn’t been far off.

  She shook her head to refocus. She was looking uncomfortably close at her own life when now wasn’t about her. It was about Tommy. Tommy, the kid who liked to wander. He had to be somewhere close by. She’d seen him a few minutes ago. This was going to be fine. She’d go and find him. No one needed to know about this lapse of calm. She’d laugh with Tommy’s mother in mutual understanding when she came to pick him up. His mother was always fretting about the kid’s tendency to wander. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

  She wouldn’t lose her pageant presidency or ruin the holiday celebrations for everyone. No. That wasn’t going to happen. It couldn’t happen. Poor Tommy might get hurt, and they’d never let her volunteer for anything ever again. They’d kick her out of town. And she needed to be a part of this town, with these people who’d loved her parents. She couldn’t leave their memories. She’d be lost without the connection.

  Wait a second. Stop. She was freaking out. Freaking out wasn’t going to help anything. Forcing herself to settle, she froze in place. She inhaled and exhaled several times to regain her senses.

  She was wasting time. “Okay, you all stay here and keep track of the other children.” A few of the parents moved to do her bidding. Hannah took off to find her lost kid. Everything would be fine. Just fine. Still, she fretted. How could she possibly screw up this badly when all she’d ever wanted to do was help?

  * * *

  Griff sat on one of the steps leading to Town Hall and pretended to read the book he’d picked up from the library. It was a mystery. Or something. He told himself not to go over and watch Hannah’s rehearsal. He was dangerously close to the whole stalker thing. He couldn’t help that Hannah drew his eye and his attention whenever she was in his vicinity. She always had. Now that he knew more about her, she only intrigued him more.

  He was kind of pathetic. Maybe her effect on him was a positive thing. It wouldn’t be completely horrible to become more involved in the town. That had been his whole intention of moving to a small community, but suspicions always thrived.

  He couldn’t quite snap out of his guarded upbringing. He always questioned everyone’s intentions and analyzed them to the point of making conversations awkward. Even though he recognized his faults, changing them was a whole different battle. The added threat of talking to strangers was he always had the possibility of meeting someone like his mother. He could go a lifetime without meeting another lady like her.

  Sighing, he tossed his book on the step next to him. Who was he kidding? There would be no reading today until he made sure Hannah forgave him. Even as he contemplated a surely disastrous commitment, part of him was already thinking of touching Hannah again. There was still a chance she’d turn him down, and there would be no holding. He probably deserved that.

  A small kid wandering down the empty street distracted him. The kid stared around with a wide-eyed excitement that suggested he was viewing the world without supervision. There was no mistaking the expression.

  He had to be lost. His tree costume spoke volumes about where he belonged. His arms couldn’t settle all the way down to his sides because of the extra fabric. Griff wondered how mad Hannah would get if he commented on the costumes. It was probably safer if he didn’t. But they really did make the kids look ridiculous.

  His memory clicked into place, and he recognized the kid from the farm. The one who’d circled the tree and fallen in love with the fir.

  “It’s Tommy, right?” Griff called out, and cursed himself for getting involved. Not like he could do anything else when presented with a lost kid.

  The kid focused on him.

  “How’s your tree?”

  He grinned. “Frank.”

  “Huh?”

  “The tree’s name is Frank.” The kid spoke like it was the most normal thing in the world to name Christmas trees. All right, then. Who was he to judge?

  “Nice costume.”

  Tommy looked down and checked out his own clothes. “Thanks.”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be practicing with Miss Jones?” He threw a hint of authority into his voice.

  Tommy scowled, as though adult Griff had snuck up on him. Still, he had to get the kid back where he belonged.

  “Come on. Let’s get you back to Miss Jones. She’s probably worried about you.” She was probably losing her ever-loving mind.

  “Yeah. She gets that way.” Tommy sighed.

  He shouldn’t laugh. “I hear the show will be fun.” The whole town was talking about it.

  Tommy shrugged.

  They rounded a building and spotted Hannah jogging from the opposite direction. Her cheeks were red and her breathing ragged. “Oh, thank god.” Relief passed over her features. “Tommy, I told you to stay in the forest.”

  “Sorry, Miss Jones.”

  Griff raised his brows in question.

  She flushed. “The forest is where the trees are supposed to be when they aren’t rehearsing.”

  “Clever.”

  She placed a gentle hold on Tommy’s shoulder and led him forward. “Thanks for helping, Griff.”

  “No problem.” Griff held up a hand. She didn’t pay him any more attention. Attention he ridiculously craved the longer he went without it. He was so totally screwed. And he wasn’t minding it nearly as much as he’d expected.

  * * *

  Hannah couldn’t believe she’d lost a child. She managed to mostly smile through the remaining rehearsal. No one had to know she’d been berating herself for an hour. These mental lectures were not for public consumption. One major catastrophe averted, but unfortunately, she had other worries.

  She didn’t want to be a person who made excuses for bad behavior, but she understood people made mistakes. She still had a good feeling about Griff, and his thoughtfulness earlier made her inclined to lean toward believing last night wasn’t the real him.

  Before she chose to have faith in him, how many different ways could she ask Griff to beg for forgiveness? It probably wasn’t fair for her to expect five. It definitely wasn’t fair. But hurt feelings weren’t exactly fair, and wasn’t that the core of it? As much as Hannah wanted to pretend Griff hadn’t hurt her, she couldn’t buy her own lie. He had. The fact he’d managed to affect her already made her a little scared, but it also made her well aware that this relationship mattered. At least, to her it did.

  She waved goodbye to the last of the children, anxious to speak to Griff. Too bad she wasn’t sure what to say.

  He’d been thoughtful when he’d replaced the things in her basket. He’d found Tommy and been considerate enough to bring the child back to her. But did he want to give this a try for real? It was clear their previous date had been his way of waiting for things to fail. He was back, though. She wanted to know why.

  She hesitated because she wasn’t sure if he was an ass with a soft heart or if he was just a plain ass. She refused to get involved with someone who was cruel to her. That wasn’t the example her parents had set. His words had pushed her, but she couldn’t quite believe he’d been intentionally mean. Careless? Yes. Pessimistic? Yes. Mean? No. If she was impartial about it, she couldn’t expect him to know about her mother. The old wound throbbed and was pushed aside. She didn’t know how to grieve.

  She tied her scarf securely as she headed down the street, away from the outdoor rehearsal area. Griff had to be somewhere close if he’d been hanging around earlier. She caught sight of a broad-shouldered man with Griff’s dark hair standing in front of the grocery store. She recognized him even though she couldn’t see his face.

  Mrs. Hill stood, talking his ear off. Hannah smiled, unable to help herself. Griff shifted his weight in restlessness, but he remained, listening to Mrs. Hill, the town champion conversationalist. The less interested a person seem
ed, the more she wanted to talk.

  Hannah bit her lip, delighted Griff was sticking around for the stories. The rough-around-the-edges man she’d worried over was replaced by a man nice enough to stick around for a conversation he obviously didn’t want to have. He had manners, and he cared about not corrupting them.

  She told herself not to indulge her ridiculous instinct to squeal. It was one thing to do so in the privacy of her own home around her sisters, but she was out in public now and desperately trying to tone down her haughty image. Still, warmth spread through her chest. He was a nicer guy than he thought, even if he didn’t want to be.

  Deciding to save him, she kept herself out of his line of sight and moved up to him. There was only one thing that would save Griff now. Hannah would have to give Mrs. Hill something to talk about. She didn’t mind. If she was going to date Griff, the town would find out eventually. They tended to be protective, but it was nothing that couldn’t be handled.

  She threaded her arm through his and pulled him closer. She grinned up at him when he shot her a desperate silent plea. He wanted out, all right, but he’d stayed to listen to Mrs. Hill.

  That’s when she saw the flowers.

  Mrs. Hill’s voice faded. The words buzzed in the back of her mind.

  “These are for you.” Griff practically shoved the flowers at her.

  Everything inside Hannah crumbled, and she forgot about saving him. “Aww, you didn’t have to do that.”

  “A final apology.”

  She sniffed the floral scent, delighted with the simple arrangement. She didn’t know much about flowers, but they were pretty and smelled good. “Thank you. I suppose four is enough.”

  His brows drew together. “Four what?”

  She shrugged. “I was thinking I would need five apologies to forgive you. Ridiculous, I know. No need to say. But you made me decide four is enough.”

  “Great.”

  She ignored his sarcasm, which was so like him. He had no need to say much to get his point across. “How are you today, Mrs. Hill?”

  “Fine, dear.” Mrs. Hill jerked her stance as if she had someplace to be. “I just remembered I need to pick up an urgent package at the post office. I’ll see you two around.” She fluttered off.

  Hannah pressed her cheek against Griff’s upper arm. “She’s off to the post office to tell the town about our relationship.”

  Griff slanted his chin down at her. “What relationship?”

  “The one we just started right now.”

  “They’re just flowers.”

  They seemed more like a promise. “Come on, it won’t be that bad.”

  “Everyone will hate me more for sullying your reputation.”

  “My reputation could use a little sullying. Now go ahead and kiss me.”

  He tried to pull away.

  She shook her head and pointed up. Mistletoe hung above them hooked to one of the buildings. “You have to.”

  “Do not.”

  “It’s part of the holiday spirit.”

  “I don’t celebrate.”

  They were so going to have to change that. He needed a little celebration and belonging in his life. Why couldn’t he see what was so obvious? Probably the same way she tended to miss the obvious about herself. She threw her arms around his neck, pressing close to him. The flowers squished between them. “Why are you scowling?” Maybe she’d read him wrong.

  His features relaxed as he studied her. “I’m just glad Mrs. Hill never pointed out the mistletoe.”

  She laughed, and her stomach warmed. “You’re a very special man. You know that? In six dates, I’ll show you how special I can be. I don’t usually have a date rule, but I’m implementing one. Just for you. Consider that your final atonement for our horrible first date. I’m reinstating the five apology requirement.” She couldn’t help goading him when he gave her that scowl.

  “Great.”

  She stared into his eyes, looking for something, maybe confirmation. “Do you want to give this a real shot?” As much as she wanted to joke with him about their relationship, the other part of her needed to hear him say it.

  “What do you mean?”

  Her mood dimmed in remembrance. “Before, at your house. You were setting us up to fail. You expected this not to work. How do you feel about it now?”

  A puff of air escaped him. Not quite a sigh, but more a heavy burden being released. “I think I’m sorry about that. Real sorry.”

  She detected his remorse. “I apologize for my part too.” She hadn’t meant to storm off. She’d never reacted so intensely to a near stranger.

  His hand brushed against her cheek. “You did nothing wrong.”

  “I ran off like a child and didn’t give you a chance.”

  “I’ve never felt as bad as I have the last half day. I’m giving it a shot.”

  That’s all she needed to hear. She didn’t need fancy words when she’d believe them less than simple sincerity. “You’ve got a soft heart under there, Griff Green.” She’d picked up his last name from the local busybodies.

  His amusement crept in as his lips lifted. “It’s actually Griffith Green II.”

  “It is not.”

  “It tragically is.” He pointed up at the mistletoe. “I thought we had something important to do.”

  “Don’t you want to talk more about emotions and the beginning of our dating relationship?” She’d had just about enough, but the look on his face was priceless.

  “I’m going to kiss you to stop all this feelings talk.”

  She was laughing when he followed through on his promise. His warm lips caressed hers and she forgot all about her plans and obligations. It suddenly wasn’t about doing all the things. It was just about Griff. Kissing her Scrooge inspired her season. Now she needed to work on inspiring him.

  * * *

  Griff allowed Hannah to drag him through the town. Glowing lights lined the streets, alleviating the darkness. Townspeople lined the sidewalks and observed the big reveal of the town’s decorations. He had no idea what he was doing here.

  Hannah grinned at him. “Isn’t this beautiful?” Her eyes gleamed against the night, her excitement palpable. But it wasn’t just her excitement. A passion thrived in her and practically vibrated off her in waves. She really did love the holidays.

  In that moment, Griff decided date three might kill him. Not just because he was doing something he’d never done before, attending the town lighting ceremony, but also because her gloved hand practically burned through his jacket with the sparks of interest she aimed right toward him. She had to know her effect on him. She had to be choosing to ignore it.

  He was a man drowning in her goodness. She possessed an honest desire to serve, splintered by enough pain to make her vulnerable in ways he wanted to fix. Not that he was much of a fixer, or that he knew what bothered her. She still hadn’t shared about her past.

  She frowned as she focused on him again, her enthusiasm visibly waning. “Well? What do you think?”

  Right. He was supposed to answer. He took his time looking around, making sure she was satisfied that he was really paying attention. “It’s nice.” The minute the word left his mouth, he understood it wouldn’t be adequate.

  “Nice?” she demanded. “You think all these twinkly lights are just nice?”

  Nice was exaggerating his opinion about the twinkly lights, but how did a man tell that to a woman so enchanted by them? He couldn’t disappoint her. “It’s festive.” He’d never said the word festive in his life.

  Her expression blanked for a second. Then she started to laugh. “Festive.” She tried the word on her tongue as if it was a joke. Her amusement filled the air.

  He probably should have been offended, but he’d made her laugh. They joined the other people milling around the square. The mayor was just about to turn on the Christmas tree lights.

  “We’re just in time,” she whispered.

  “Thank god.” His sarcasm crept out.

&
nbsp; “Put your arms around me.” She took his arms and placed them over her shoulders. She snuggled back into his chest. Uncomfortably close if the stretching of his jeans had anything to say about it. Again, if she noticed, she chose to ignore this detail.

  He had the feeling she noticed. Maybe even gloried in it. Glory was a proper word for the celebration. At first his hold around her was awkward. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d placed his arms around a woman in public. He’d never been very comfortable with it.

  “Relax,” she said only loud enough for him to hear.

  His body complied with her gentle command.

  Lights turned on, brightening the main tree. The crowd gasped and clapped. Even a man who didn’t celebrate much could appreciate the display.

  Hannah went quiet for a long time. When he looked around her head to see her face, his heart tightened. “What is it?”

  She forced a smile. “Nothing. It’s perfect.” Under her guise, he read her strain. A pain she wasn’t sharing with him. He wanted to take away her misery. He had no idea how.

  * * *

  Hannah’s eyes burned, and she cursed herself for being emotional. This was her favorite time of year. The lighting ceremony always made her feel closer to her parents. This year was different though, because of Griff.

  She wouldn’t let him see the dimness in her attitude. She wouldn’t bring the sadness into this night. But this year was different because now she had Griff, and she wanted him to meet her parents, something that would never happen.

  Taking in the warmth of the strong arms around her, she told herself to appreciate what she had. Things were going well right now. There wasn’t room for the past. But the past always followed her around, and she barely kept a few feet in front of it.

  She wasn’t ready to confront some things.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Griff asked.

  She shot him a smile she was sure was genuine. He was more attentive than she would have guessed. “Yes.”

  “Nothing’s wrong?” He didn’t seem like much of a presser, but he was when it mattered. She had no idea how he knew when it mattered.