by Jill Kemerer
Taking something off the end table, he turned and faced her. “Look what I found.”
Oh, my.
He lifted his hand above her head, and she looked up. Mistletoe.
Mistletoe? Her heartbeat was tripping over itself.
“You know the tradition, right?” he asked, huskily.
She had no words. Just a million and one impressions. Her mouth opened before she had time to think. “It represented peace to the Romans, protection from death to the Nordic people, and in Victorian England, it was a big deal if a girl refused a kiss. She wouldn’t find a suitor the next year.”
His face blanked, and then he grinned. “Well, I have my own rules about it.”
“What rules?”
“The mistletoe rules.” He leaned in, smiling, his blue eyes intent. His right hand caressed her hair before settling behind her neck. He drew her closer to him. Firm hands, the smell of his skin, warm breath all collided as his lips brushed hers.
Before she could process the sensation, his lips pressed more insistently, but not demanding. She relaxed into his arms and followed his lead. Her arms wound round his neck, and she reveled in the softness of the hair at his nape. Kissing him felt so right, even better than her dreams. If they could freeze this moment—she could live right here, right now, forever.
Sam’s kiss tapered off, and he searched her eyes, his lips spreading into a satisfied smile. Their faces were almost touching. The slightest movement and he’d be kissing her again.
“What were the rules?” she whispered.
“Rule number one. I’ve wanted to—”
“Yoo-hoo!” The door opened and a gust of snowy air blew in, bringing with it a noisy group of people led by a short blonde older lady wearing fake reindeer antlers on her head.
Sam rolled his eyes, muttering, “Perfect timing.”
She squinted. Was Claire behind the antler lady?
Let the earth swallow her now.
Celeste kept her spine as straight as the flagpole in front of the cottage. Laughter and conversation spilled inside with the rest of the crowd. Two of the tall men were clearly Sam’s brothers, but the other two? She had no idea. As the adults shrugged out of their coats, a little dark-haired girl, six or seven, ran straight to Sam and fell into his arms.
“Uncle Sam, I got you something.” The beautiful child kissed his nose. “Want to see?”
“Of course I do, Macy.”
She ran back to the kitchen, disappearing in a sea of legs.
“Sam,” Claire yelled, her face glowing. “Where did you find Granddad’s old ornaments? These bring me back.” With her hand on her tiny belly, she shook her head in wonder and stepped back to survey the tree.
Celeste swallowed her mortification and stood. She hadn’t talked to Claire since moving next door. She needed to congratulate her.
“And what a great surprise to see you here, Celeste.” Claire rushed forward, taking Celeste’s hands in hers. Claire kissed her on the cheek, and Celeste was so surprised she couldn’t find a single word to say. “Did Sam rope you into decorating for him? I hope he hasn’t been a slave driver with this tree.”
“Congratulations. I hear you’re expecting.” Celeste nodded to Claire’s tummy.
“Thank you,” she said, her eyes growing damp. “We had a hard time getting pregnant.”
A commotion made them both turn.
“Hey, watch the baby.” Sam glared at two of the men and wielded his right crutch to point at Parker. “And for crying out loud, don’t wake him up.” His eyes met Celeste’s, and he tilted his head to the side. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to everyone.”
“Let me move Parker first.”
The next fifteen minutes were spent meeting an endless supply of Sheffield siblings, wives, husbands, nieces, his aunt Sally and uncle Joe and, finally, his dad.
“Glad to meet you,” Dale Sheffield said. He wasn’t as tall as his sons, but he seemed energetic. He had a thick head of silver hair and the kindest blue eyes she’d ever seen. “I see you got the tree decorated. Reminds me when I was a kid. I didn’t know the old man saved all those decorations.”
Aunt Sally scampered over, antlers jiggling. “Look, Dale, I haven’t seen those reindeer in years. Remember how Ma made us put them up every Christmas?”
“They were ugly then, and they’re ugly now.” Dale crossed his arms over his chest. “But she sure loved them.”
“Well, you know why, don’t you?” Sally shifted her weight to the side, putting a hand on her hip. “She and Dad didn’t have any money those first two years they were married.”
“I know, I know.”
Sally glared at him, then turned to Celeste. “Our mother hated the idea of a bare tree, so she and her sister made all these ornaments out of felt. Hours of cutting, embroidering, sewing and stuffing. She was so proud of them she put them up every year, even when they had enough money to decorate with crystal.”
Dale chuckled. “Dad said the same thing each time they lugged them out. ‘If it wasn’t for your mother’s resourcefulness, Sheffield Auto never would have survived the first years.’ I think he might have been prouder of those homemade decorations than she was.”
Sally nodded, a soft gleam in her eyes. “Yeah, they appreciated each other, that’s for sure.”
A couple approached. Celeste tried to remember the man’s name. Tom? He looked like an older, darker, more mischievous version of Sam. “It was good to have you back yesterday.”
Sam grinned. “It was good to be back.”
Tom pointed at Sam. “Now you have no excuse. Macy’s singing in church with her Sunday school class Wednesday night. It would make us happy if you came and watched her.”
“Why Wednesday?”
“Did you forget about that thing called Advent?”
“Oh, right.”
Parker’s cry alerted Celeste he’d finally woken. She excused herself and picked him up. His cheeks were flushed from sleep, and he rubbed his eyes with one fist and clung to her neck with the other.
She took him to the spare bedroom and changed his diaper. When she returned, cheerful chatter filled the room, and one of the women approached. Tom’s wife, Stephanie? Sam had introduced them only minutes ago—she hoped she got the name right.
“Your little boy is so cute.” She held a toddler girl with dark brown curls. “I know we can be overwhelming. I’m Stephanie, and this is Emily. How old is he?”
Celeste caught a glimpse of the other men. The dark blond who seemed quieter than the others was Bryan. The other two men were Claire’s and Libby’s husbands, Reed and Jake, and they happened to be brothers.
“Parker turned a year in October. What about Emily?”
“She’ll be eighteen months in a few weeks.” The girl wriggled for Stephanie to put her down. As soon as her feet hit the floor, she took off running to Claire. Stephanie shook her head, grinning. “She is a handful. Everyone calls her Sweetpea, but trust me, she’s less sweet and more tart.”
Celeste laughed. “Yeah, Parker’s been starting to cry more when he doesn’t get his way. He’s kind of obsessed with Sam.”
“Well, Sam’s good with kids.”
A petite, stylish woman with green eyes materialized next to them.
“How are the Christmas products selling, Jade?” Stephanie asked. She shook her head, addressing Celeste. “Where are my manners? Have you two met? Celeste, this is Jade, Bryan’s wife.”
Jade grinned, her eyes sparkling brighter than the lights on the tree. “We were introduced a little bit ago, but I’m terrible with names, so if you ever forget mine, I won’t be offended.”
Celeste smiled, and Jade turned to Stephanie. “Libby and I ordered handmade ornaments. Metal, wood, glass. They are gorgeous. You should stop by and check them ou
t. Bring the girls.”
“Did I hear my name?” A stunning blonde, the youngest of Sam’s siblings, approached Stephanie and Jade, putting an arm around each of their shoulders.
“I was just telling Stephanie and Celeste about the ornaments.” Jade practically wiggled in excitement. “Celeste, have you met Libby?”
Celeste nodded, fascinated by the interaction.
“We’re so thankful for you,” Libby said. She glanced over her shoulder at the men. “Sam’s himself again. Because of you.”
“I didn’t really...” Celeste wasn’t sure what to say.
“Yes, you did, but I’ll drop it for now.” Libby winked. “So, I went to the Ann Arbor art fair this summer and met the most amazing artists...”
“Do you two work together?” Celeste asked when Libby finished telling them about the hand-stamped metal ornaments.
“Yes! Jade opened a T-shirt shop almost two years ago, wasn’t it?” Libby asked. Jade nodded, so she continued. “After she married Bryan—thank you a million times over for making him happy—we decided to join forces and expand the store. Shine Gifts is now double the size. You might have seen it downtown Lake Endwell. We have a purple—”
“Eggplant,” Jade interjected.
“Excuse me, eggplant—” Libby grinned, scrunching her nose “—awning over the front door. Stop in anytime.”
“I design and make the custom shirts and bags and such.” Jade waved her hands as if to say “ta-da.”
“And I find the jewelry, books, art and gifts.” Libby drew Jade in for a one-armed hug. “We make a great team.”
“I heard you run your own virtual assistant business, Celeste,” Stephanie said. “I know at least four businesses who would jump at the chance to hire you part-time.”
“Really?” Celeste let the possibility wash over her. More work meant more money, which she needed, but she already had a hard time fitting in the clients she had. She wouldn’t need to hustle for more work if she went through with her teacher certification. She could raise Parker on a modest teacher’s wage. Until then, though, she’d have to consider new business contacts. “Feel free to give them my number. I’ll leave a business card with Sam next time I come over.” Parker started getting antsy in her arms, so she set him down, keeping an eye on him as he headed toward Macy. The little girl crouched as he approached and ruffled his hair as she smiled.
“Macy loves babies,” Stephanie said as Macy took Parker’s hand. “You might never get him back.”
“She’s darling.” Celeste watched Macy slowly walk with Parker to the tree. She pointed out ornaments, and he stared at her, mesmerized. Sam chatted with his brothers and uncle a few feet from the tree.
Celeste met Sam’s eyes across the room. They shimmered with appreciation. Heat flashed up her neck, and instantly, she thought of their kiss. The pressure of his lips against hers. The strength and tenderness of his hands. The feeling of being cherished.
As much as she enjoyed the interaction with his family, she wouldn’t mind if they all disappeared, leaving her and Sam alone. To have him explain the mistletoe rules a little more in depth.
But she shook the ungracious thought away. His family was wonderful. None of them had asked about her face. They all treated her as if she didn’t have scars. For a few moments, she’d forgotten about them.
A burst of laughter filled the air from the men. She closed her eyes, savoring this—a house full of fun people on a winter day surrounded by Christmas scents, twinkly lights and laughter.
If things were different...
But they weren’t. Maybe she and Sam were both indulging in wishful thinking. She kept pretending life would change with more surgery, and he pretended his legs would somehow spontaneously heal.
She’d have to hold on to the memory of today forever, because her gut told her the snow globe they were in was about to shatter.
Chapter Eight
“What am I going to do with all this?” Sam leaned against the kitchen counter and shook his head in amazement at the plastic containers full of sugar cookies, bowls of frosting in pastel colors and every type of sprinkle imaginable. He and Celeste had just returned from his Monday therapy session. For two days he hadn’t stopped thinking about their kiss. In fact, he couldn’t get Celeste off his mind. And he needed to. Soon.
“Um, wow.” Celeste crossed her arms over her chest and bit her lower lip, but her eyes danced with laughter. Parker played with a toy car on the floor.
“Aunt Sally’s finally lost it.”
“Did she mention anything about this to you?”
“Nope. No, she did not.” He lifted his eyes to the ceiling. “Aunt Sally texted me she was dropping something off, but what was she thinking? There’s enough sugar here to give someone diabetes.”
“Is that a note?” Celeste pointed to a sheet of paper wedged under a package of plastic pastry bags. He scanned the note.
I made too many cookies and thought that darling baby might enjoy decorating them with his pretty mama and you. Love, Aunt Sally.
Uneasiness prickled over his skin. As much as he wanted to spend the day decorating cookies with Celeste and Parker, he knew it wasn’t wise. He had to stop thinking about himself and start thinking about what was best for her. Which wasn’t him.
She plucked the paper from his hand. “Isn’t that sweet? Thinking of Parker.”
Thinking of setting him up with Celeste was more like it. His aunt had a history of matchmaking. Didn’t his aunt realize Celeste was special? That she needed a guy who could be there for her in ways he couldn’t? Her slender arms carried too much every day as it was. He would not be another burden on her.
“Why don’t you change, and I’ll get everything ready?” Her clear brown eyes held no questions or concerns. Just anticipation.
What was he supposed to do now? Tell her to hit the road? That she couldn’t stay because his heart was getting in way too deep? Yeah, that would go over well.
“Okay.”
When he’d changed, he paused a moment in the doorway. Celeste had laid the cookies out on wax paper at the dining table. Parker was strapped into his portable booster seat. He nibbled on one cookie and banged another against the table. She was spooning the icing into the pastry bags. The Christmas tree twinkled beside them.
What had been an empty cottage had become a warm, inviting home.
What would it hurt if he simply enjoyed being with them today?
He took a seat next to Parker and pretended to take a bite from his cookie. Parker squealed, snatching the cookie back. Then he thrust it back to Sam, and Sam laughed, pretending to take another bite. The boy laughed harder. Sam made gobbling noises, egging him on.
Celeste set the bags of frosting on the table, and he almost caught his breath. She looked happy. Beautiful.
He cleared his throat. “What do you do with this?” Picking up a squishy bag full of baby blue frosting, he tried to shake his head of all the warm fuzzy feelings invading him.
Her fingers brushed his as she demonstrated how to pipe the icing onto the cookie. “Easy, huh?”
“Yeah.” It was. Easy. All of this was too easy.
And it wouldn’t last.
He knew better than to count on it. It was one thing to be friends, another to kiss her, and still another to fall in love. He’d never been in love before. He’d liked casual dating, enjoyed dinner and a movie. This...this doing regular everyday stuff with Celeste and Parker compelled him. He’d rather hang out and decorate cookies with them than anything else. But it wasn’t fair to her.
Parker stared up at him through big hopeful eyes, the cookie stretched toward Sam’s mouth. Once more he pretended to gobble the cookie.
“Are you going to help or do I have to crack the whip?” Celeste popped her hand on her hip in mock an
ger.
“Okay, I’ll get at it, boss.” He frosted a snowman cookie and sifted colored sugar on top. Celeste sat across from him, and she carefully decorated the cutout cookies. After a while, Parker got antsy, so she took him out of the high chair and let him play with his car again.
Contentment crept up on him. He watched Celeste’s lips curve into a slight smile as she put the finishing touches on a cookie shaped like a snowflake. Simple pleasures. Ones he craved. The only way he could justify spending all this time together was if he knew for sure he’d be walking on his own soon.
Maybe it was time to ask Dr. Stepmeyer about his progress. How long would it be before he could have a real life?
* * *
Another Wednesday at physical therapy, another round of torture.
With his right leg, Sam lifted the exercise table’s torque arm, straining to get it high enough. His thigh muscles protested, but not as much as his stiff knee. Sweat dripped down both sides of his forehead. At least his hour was almost up.
He ground out the remaining sets and slumped, reaching for the towel and water he kept nearby. After a long drink, he sucked in another breath and willed his legs to stop twitching and shooting fire.
Dr. Stepmeyer returned. He stretched his neck from side to side. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think it’s working?”
“Yes. Don’t you? I thought your progress was obvious.” She handed him his crutches and strolled to the treatment table. When he was ready, she hooked up the electrodes and started the machine.
“You came in here five weeks ago in a wheelchair. You could barely stand on your left leg and couldn’t put any weight on your right. Your left leg is strong now. Much stronger than it was. The right knee still can’t take much pressure, but yes, your time and effort are paying off.”
“I need to go back to work.”
“I figured.” She sat on the stool next to him, her clipboard in her lap. “Have you looked at your leg lately, Sam?”
He glanced down. Purple scars spiraled around it, and parts of his thigh and knee appeared to have been carved out, chunks missing. “Yeah. What about it?”
