Mistletoe and Mr. Right

by Sarah Morgenthaler

  The compliment, given in a quiet voice as Lana cuddled his hedgehog, made Rick’s whole world tilt on its axis. It had been a long time since he felt good about himself as opposed to simply accepting of who he was. But Lana had this way of building him up without even trying.

  As if he needed a reason to become even more infatuated with her.

  “I promised you dinner,” he said in her ear, unable to verbalize how much her kindness meant to him.

  “Mmm. I’ll take you up on that. Darla, it was lovely to meet you. Your tree is beautiful.”

  Dinner was on top of the stove, the covered pot set on low to warm it. Lana peeked her nose in.

  “You made stroganoff.” Lana looked delighted.

  Rick gave her a little squeeze. “I won’t tell you what the meat is if you don’t ask.”

  “Oh, I already know it’s squirrel. All our meals together are destined to be squirrel.”

  They ate at the table, a rarity for Rick, playing with Peyton in between bites. Roger stared at the intruder from the farthest chair until Lana managed to coax him into grudgingly meeting the little furball. With a grunt of annoyance, Roger rolled over on his back, staring at the kitten from upside down.

  “That might be the best you’re going to get from him,” Rick said.

  “Well, it’s Roger’s home. He’ll feel better when we’re gone.”

  Rick chuckled. “Roger will never forgive or forget the intrusion. Which is the part I like the most. Peyton will be a good distraction for him when I’m at work.”

  Her features lit up with pleasure. “You want the kitten?”

  A some point in the middle of his plate of stroganoff, Rick had already started figuring out how to accommodate Peyton into his life. A bigger litter pan for starters. Some actual cute little cat toys, because Roger’s taste in toys trended toward the extreme.

  In response, Rick simply shrugged. “Cat needs a home. I’ve got one to share. It’s not a big deal.”

  Lana was quiet for a moment before she reached out, touching his arm. “Rick? You know you can say no, right? You don’t have to fix this for me. I’m sure there are plenty of people who would give him a home too. You don’t have to do everything for everyone. What you want…or don’t want…matters.”

  Rick hesitated. Too many years of a tough marriage had wired him this way. So Rick stabbed a piece of beef onto his fork, put it in his mouth, and chewed while he thought about what he wanted. Not what he had to do but what he—Rick Harding—actually wanted.

  “You’re probably leaving after New Year’s,” he finally said.

  Lana nodded, eyes downcast. “Yes. I have some accounts in Europe I need to check in on.”

  “Then it might be nice to have something to remember you by. Something that annoys Roger. Feels like a win-win.”

  The sweetest smile spread on her face, and the look she gave him made Rick take a drink of water to wet his instantly dried mouth. Yep, that was a good look. That was a “maybe he should have double-checked his current deodorant situation” kind of look.

  “So…” Lana said, her voice a low purr. Damn, how did she manage to give him chills just from breaking off a piece of bread with her fingertips? “I have a proposition for you.”

  Yes. Done. Absolutely. If it involved whipped cream, even better.

  Yeah, his sex drive—only last week drawing in tiny squeaky gasps of breath—had risen full force. Another bite of bread from her fingertips, and he was officially out of his mind, he wanted her so badly. Thank goodness she hadn’t brought over a camel or some shit. Who knew what he’d agree to adopt at this point?

  “Would you like to watch a movie?” she asked.

  “What kind of movie?”

  “The boring kind that no one actually pays attention to.”

  Yes. Absolutely.

  Abruptly, the door opened, with three twentysomethings piling into the house, headed straight for the couch. A cheerful hello from Quinn and Grass, followed by a grunt from Diego, was the final nail in the coffin.

  So close. He’d been so close.

  “Our date just got crashed,” Rick told her, shaking his head. “Sorry about that. I can’t kick the kid off the couch. It’s his safe space.”

  “I don’t mind.” Lana lowered her voice to not be heard in the next room over. “How is he? I haven’t seen him since the day he was in jail.”

  “Frustrated. He’s going to help me out at the pool hall until he finds work. Hannah won’t hire him back while Bayard is still staying at the resort. I talked to Jax, but his hands are tied.”

  “I’ll see if there’s anything I can do to grease the wheels.” Lana aimed a sympathetic glance toward the living room, where the three had turned on a movie. “He was protecting her. I hate that he’s being punished for it.”

  Yeah. Rick hated it too.

  In the living room, Diego had turned on a movie. On one side of the couch was a young man the same age as Diego, nice-looking and well-dressed. Grass always seemed put together. On the other side was Rick’s rumpled housemate, surly glare ramped up about ten notches. Between them, the reason for that glare was perched with her legs crossed beneath her.

  When everyone knew everyone in a small town, it was impossible to miss the girl with the largest eyes ever. And when Quinn turned those eyes Diego’s way, Rick could see the reaction she had on him. With every single part of him, Diego was clearly trying to pretend he wasn’t head over heels in love with the girl.

  A grunted, “Want some pizza bagels?” was Diego’s version of an epic 80s power ballad.

  “Yes.” She thumped Diego’s arm with excitement. “Oh my gosh, I love those.” Quinn immediately started chattering about how much she loved them and why she loved them and how she could eat all of them. And the kid listened to her too, every single word, before rolling to his feet.

  “Thanks, man,” Grass said. “Those sound good.”

  If Grass had only seen the look that passed over Diego’s face, he would have left Rick’s couch and house and pizza bagels far behind. But Grass was too busy watching Quinn’s face instead.

  The poor girl was oblivious to the fact that both were in love with her.

  “Maybe we should give them some space,” Lana said as they cleared the table.

  “It’s cold outside,” Rick reminded her.

  She bumped her shoulder into his companionably. “I won’t turn into a popsicle.”

  They tucked Peyton back into his carrier before heading out to the porch. The swing had acquired a nice thick layer of snow in the time since he’d left that morning.

  “Why don’t you have any Christmas lights on?”

  “The Santa Moose destroyed what I still had up. Plus, someone blew the main breaker in my barn. I haven’t had a chance to get to the hardware store to replace it yet.”

  Guilt flashed over her features. “Wow, I bet that sucks. Who would do something like that?”

  “Someone who decided to shoot me full of moose tranquilizer and take advantage of my inebriated state to pry all my deepest and darkest secrets out of me.”

  This time, Lana’s eyes widened with indignation.

  “I did not. I would never.” Rick waited, then she giggled. “Not on purpose anyway. What you chose to say was entirely on you.”

  Like a surly kid on one side of the couch, Rick couldn’t help looking over at her. Lana’s lashes kept brushing her cheeks as she glanced down at the snowflakes on her knees. Maybe they were all the same. Dumb guys without a clue how to cover the distance between their part of the seat and hers.

  But Rick wasn’t a kid. He was willing to try.

  Lana’s eyebrow rose. “Did you just yawn and put your arm around me?”

  “Technically, I yawned and draped my arm on the back of the swing. If you so happened to be in front of it…”

  She
leaned into his shoulder. “It was very smooth. I was very impressed.”

  “I thought you would be.”

  Since she was snuggling in, Rick figured he might be allowed to snuggle a little too. Wrapping his arm around her, he shifted to make a more comfortable space for her to lean. And when a soft sigh escaped her lips, he rested his chin on the top of her head, inhaling the scent of her hair.

  “Thank you for dinner. I had fun tonight. And last night. And pretty much every moment I’ve spent with you.”

  Diego showed his loyalty and affection through mini bagels covered in cheese and pepperoni. Rick showed his by closing his eyes and ignoring the mitten-covered fingers sneaking a bit of snow into his shirt. When she slipped her leg over to straddle his lap, Rick took a moment to remember this. The way her hips felt beneath his hands as he steadied her. The softness of her lips as she pressed her mouth to his. Her hair sliding through his fingers as he cradled the back of her neck, drawing her into a deeper, more heated kiss.

  When they pulled away, Rick wondered if Lana could see the hunger in his eyes. Every muscle in his body felt shaky, he wanted her so much. Instead, he said quietly, “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t keep hoping you’d do that again.”

  “Depends if you were a good boy this year,” she said coyly.

  “You’re teasing me.” He’d never admit how much he loved it.

  “You’re a really cute target.” Lana winked at him.

  “Are you ever not pretty?” His question was soft, his thumb lightly brushing the sleeve of her jacket.

  “You should see me after half a bottle of tequila and a phone call with my tax attorney.”

  “Nah, pretty sure you’d still be a knockout.”

  More snow found its way beneath his collar, and this time, he flinched as it slipped down to stick between his shoulder blades. Rick broke the kiss, reaching back to try to free himself from the iciness. “That was mean.”

  “I’m pure evil. Haven’t you heard?”

  “They don’t know you.” Rick held her gaze, thinking no one had ever had eyes as beautiful as hers. “I’d make you pizza bagels.”

  Her smile took his breath away.

  “Considering the context, that might be the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me.”

  “I get the feeling that people don’t say nice things to you very much.” Rick held her eyes, because he wanted her to know that whatever else did—or didn’t—happen, he saw her. “Which is a shame. I’m tempted to say nice things to you every second of every day.”

  “Really?” Her voice was always sexy as hell. But when it softened, her body leaning into his a little as if her defenses were softening too, Rick had never heard anything sexier.

  “Yep.” This time, he pulled his gloves off, not caring about the cold as he wrapped her up in his arms, squeezing tightly. “I’d make you chicken wings too.”

  “Spicy ones?” Lana asked as he pressed a kiss to the side of her slender neck.

  “The spiciest. And carrot sticks with ranch.”

  “Love, one must only eat their wings with celery and blue cheese. Really, what kind of heathen are you?”

  Love, huh? That was a first. And man, if Rick didn’t like the word on her lips. He kissed her there, tasting the lingering endearment before it slipped away from him. The chill in his knuckles was worth it to feel those silky strands beneath his hands, tilting her face down to his again.

  “I’d even make you breakfast.”

  “Trout and toast?”

  “Good lord, woman, your taste is terrible.”

  “On the contrary, my taste is fabulous.” A deeper kiss this time, passionate enough that Rick didn’t care if it was fifty below…there was no cooling the fire burning through him. “One expects nothing less from a Montgomery.”

  There, that slight tone to her words, as if self-mocking. And yeah, he wanted to pick her up, carry her inside, and throw everyone else out of there. Diego and his friends could sleep in the barn for all he cared at the moment. Or they could stay right here, doing exactly this, until they both turned into ice cubes.

  But he wanted that slight tone to go away even more.

  Their breath misted in between them as Rick chose his words carefully. This was the kind of shit he’d always gotten wrong, no matter how badly he’d wanted to get it right.

  “Lana? I don’t expect anything from you. Just being next to you is enough.”

  When she leaned her forehead into his shoulder, he realized how wrong he’d been. The woman he’d thought was softened in his arms was nothing compared to the one he was holding now.

  Right or wrong, he was glad he’d said it.

  Chapter 11

  This time when Lana went out in the woods with a tranquilizer gun, she went alone. She also wore the accidentally sexually explicit Christmas sweater Graham’s mother had made her. Maybe it would give her some much-needed moose-catching luck.

  Alas, all Lana found was a cold nose and too many emails from her family. She’d wanted to take the day off and focus on her quest, but by the time Rick called on his lunch break, Lana was back at the resort, locked in a conference room and eyeballs deep in a nightmare of a meeting.

  As much as Lana wanted to take Rick’s call, she couldn’t. Instead, she was stuck in her seat, trying not to let her reactions show on her face. A private video conference with her mother, Silas, and Killian to determine the fate of Moose Springs was one of the few things more important than her deepening relationship with Rick or her desire to catch the Santa Moose.

  “I think the best thing we can do is halt construction on the condominiums,” Silas was saying.

  “There’s no way we can recoup what we’ve put in this,” Lana argued. “The condominiums will sell for a range of $1.5 million to $4 million per unit. The purpose of investing in the town was to force through the project. If we back out now, not only do we eat the cost of those properties, but we lose $250 million in potential sales.”

  “So?”

  “I’m sorry, Silas, at what point have you become so disconnected with reality that a quarter of a billion dollars is negligible to you?”

  “I’m with Lana,” Killian said. “Liquidation makes less sense.”

  “Silas, why is this so personal to you?” Lana demanded.

  Silas snorted. “I was going to ask you the same question, but considering your reaction to that flannel-wearing moron at the pool hall, it’s clear. The Montgomery Group coffers don’t exist for your warped version of a dinner date.”

  “Would someone explain that please?” Jessica arched an eyebrow.

  Silas wasn’t as good at hiding his own facial expressions. He thought he had won. “It’s become clear that she’s only pursuing this project because she’s emotionally invested in Moose Springs.”

  “Yes, okay?” Lana said. “I’m emotionally invested in Moose Springs, but not because of Rick Harding and not because of anyone else there. We have all seen what happens when a tourism-driven town loses their main source of income. The day the Shaws close their doors, that town will die. If I have personal reasons for not wanting that to happen, then at least I’ve balanced those reasons with financially profitable alternatives.”

  “Dear lord, Auntie, your daughter wants to be a small-town queen.” Silas groaned dramatically. “Will someone cut off her access to the corporate accounts, please?”

  “Silas, trust me,” Lana snapped, her cool officially destroyed. “Your attempts at undermining me are even more thinly veiled than you think. You’re not getting control of this company because yours is the loudest voice in the room. The Montgomery Group is my mother’s, and then it will be mine. No amount of showboating and grandstanding and acting like a complete jackass will put it in your utterly incompetent hands.”

  “That right there is exactly what I’m talking about,” Silas said, narrow
ing his eyes at her. “Lana needs to be pulled from the Moose Springs account. She has no concept of self-control when it comes to these people. Sorry, Cousin. You’re too emotional.”

  “And I suppose your penis makes you just emotional enough?” Lana glowered back.

  “Before this descends into whose genitals are the most impressive, can I say something?” Killian asked dryly.

  “Please do,” Jessica said. “They’re giving me a headache.”

  “Silas, give us one good reason that we should liquidate the Moose Springs account and halt construction. Beyond your concern that it’s taking Lana away from bigger accounts. Because she’s right. A quarter of a billion dollars isn’t something to ignore.”

  “I’ve run the numbers, and the tax rate the town imposes on out-of-state ownership is insane. That alone makes every single property we’ve acquired in Moose Springs a loss, and that’s if the tenants pay their rent. Which many aren’t. Rents need to be raised to barely break even. And while we’re fronting the tax money for improvements, there’s no guarantee the condos will sell. Without the additional income, the Shaws’ property will go into bankruptcy within five years.”

  There was a look in his eyes and an eagerness to his voice that made Lana’s blood run cold. This was Silas’s ultimate plan. “You want to let them go under, then buy the resort for pennies on the dollar.”

  “Exactly. The Shaws cater to an upscale clientele, and they’ve been hemorrhaging money because of it. Let them go under, then remarket the town as the poor man’s Aspen. We bring in chain restaurants, big box stores, a waterslide or two for the kids. Maybe even reach out to Disney. If we put Mickey Mouse or a Stormtrooper on skis, you know people will flock to the place.”

  “And in the process of letting the current Moose Springs die, then what?” Lana challenged. “What happens to the townspeople?”

  “It’s Darwinism. Survival of the fittest. Or in this case, those with the most business savvy.”

  “Mother, you can’t possibly be considering this.” Jessica remained quiet, as did Killian. Trying to cover her rapidly beating heart, Lana shifted her appeal. “Killian, you’ve been here. You know these people.”