Mistletoe on Main Street (series t/k)

by Olivia Miles

  Most of the locals had gathered in the town square, which was alive with sparkling lights and decorations. Fragrant smells of roasted nuts and sweet chocolate rose over the crowd, and the fresh snowfall left the branches glittering. A band played Christmas music under the shelter of the gazebo, which was decked out in garland and red velvet ribbon. Colorful scarves fluttered in the wind as excited children bounded past, eager to take part in the festivities.

  Grace held Sophie’s hand tight, making sure the little girl didn’t run off into the growing crowd, and steered them in the direction of the snowman-building contest.

  “Oh, it doesn’t start for another ten minutes,” she said, looking around the festival for something to keep them busy in the meantime. Across the way, past the ice sculpting and snowshoe race track, she saw a stand for hot chocolate. She shrugged to herself. What Jane didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and it was Christmas after all. Why shouldn’t her niece get two treats in one day?

  “Why don’t we get a hot chocolate before the contest starts?” she suggested. Leading a smiling Sophie toward the stand, she halted in the crunching snow when she saw the distinct form of Luke only a few yards away.

  “What is it?” Sophie asked impatiently, while Grace hesitated. There was no way they would make it past him unnoticed.

  Suddenly, she had an idea. “Your mommy ever show you how to make a snowball?”

  “Of course, silly!” Sophie giggled, and then, following Grace’s lead, bent down to scoop up two handfuls of snow.

  “Well, watch this,” Grace said, as she packed a snowball the size of a grapefruit. With her unsuspecting target in sight, she wound up about as well as a girl who had once been laughed off the softball team could. With as much force as she could manage with all her layers keeping her stiff, she launched her snowball at Luke just as a loud bell signaled the start of the speed skating race on the pond behind her, and he whirled around in time to collide with her effort at full force.

  “Oh!”

  Grace stared in horror at Luke, who stood unmoving, his face covered in snow. Beside her she heard Sophie mutter something about that “not being very nice,” but she barely registered the words as she took in the sight before her, wondering whether she should flee the scene of the crime or deal with her punishment.

  “It was supposed to hit your back—” she called out weakly, as Luke swiped at his face.

  “You mean the back of my head?” He shook the snow off his glove and glanced over at her, the beginnings of a rueful smile forming on his lips.

  She relaxed. “You know sports were never my strong area.”

  He cocked an eyebrow. “Neither was running, from what I recall.”

  And before she could sprint away, he reached down, scooped up a lump of snow and flung it at her, the impact silencing her mid-scream, landing right at the side of her head, knocking her hat askew.

  “Jesus, that hurt!” she yelled, bending over and taking a hand to her head.

  “Oh, God. Grace—I’m sorry—”

  Before he could get the rest of his thought out, she stood up and flung another snowball at him, laughing devilishly, while Sophie squealed in glee. A mischievous grin flashed over Luke’s features, and soon they were picking up snow as fast as they could, not even bothering to pack it or form it before hurling it at the other, until they were both covered from head to toe.

  Luke finally held up his hands in surrender. “You win.” He chuckled, shaking the snow from his hair, and Grace did the same, but all the while her eyes were on him, on the way his sleek wet hair clung to his forehead, and the way his strong hand casually pushed it back. The way his eyes looked bluer in the cool winter light, and the way his mouth was still pulled into a grin.

  Her heart panged. How could she have ever walked away from him?

  “You’re all wet,” she said, instantly stiffening at her words. “I mean—”

  Luke let out an easy laugh. “It’s okay. I’ll dry.” He looked down at Sophie. “What are you ladies up to?”

  “We’re about to enter the snowman-building contest,” Grace said. She checked her watch. The hot chocolate would have to wait now.

  “I build a heck of a snowman.”

  Grace hesitated, held his stare. “You could join us,” she offered, her heart beginning to pound as she questioned her invitation. What the hell was she doing? She was only tempting herself, only opening the wounds, only allowing herself room for more pain.

  Luke grinned. “Why not?”

  Grace felt her eyes widen, but she forced a casual tone when she said, “Great.” Just great.

  He fell into step beside her as they retraced their path to the center of the festival, where children and adults alike were preparing for the event. “I was hoping to run into you, actually,” he suddenly said.

  Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, yeah?”

  “I called your house, and your mom mentioned you were here. She gave me your cell number, but I thought I’d look for you first.”

  Grace shifted her attention over to the festival, but she barely took any of it in. He had called her house? He was looking for her? Why?

  She glanced at him sidelong. “Well, good thing you found me, then,” she managed, and then quickly looked away, focusing instead on finding the patch of snow designated for their entry.

  All around them were parents and their children—families—and as the bell went off and Luke quickly got to work on a giant snowball for the base of the snowman, guiding an enthusiastic Sophie through the process in patient tones, Grace knew that this could have been them in a different life. If she had never left, if she had stayed behind and followed the path they had started, this is how it would have been. Luke, and her, and a child they loved, doing simple things like building a snowman together.

  Tears prickled the back of her eyes and she swallowed the growing knot in her throat.

  “Grace?”

  She spun to look at him, at the concern that crinkled Luke’s eyes. “Everything okay?”

  “What? Oh, oh yes.” She blinked rapidly and gave a watery smile. “Just the wind. It makes my eyes tear.”

  He held her gaze for a second longer and then smiled. “Then get to work, lady. I know how much you hate to lose.”

  She laughed, the moment quickly fading, and set to work building the snowman, which Sophie had decided should be a princess snowman, and for which Luke was able to find a tiara from the props table. When they were finished, they stepped back and admired their handiwork.

  “Not too shabby,” Grace said, tipping her head. In fact, it was not the most glamorous snowman she had ever seen, nor was it the best in the contest. It was, she decided to herself, one of the most lopsided, disproportional snowmen she had possibly ever seen in her life. She opened her mouth to suggest they quickly redo the head and face but the glow in Sophie’s eyes as she stared at the messy creation stopped her.

  Her priorities had been out of whack for too long already.

  “Not too shabby at all,” Luke repeated. He leaned into her ear, his breath so close it rustled her hair. “Oh, please. You know you’re standing there thinking of how much better you could have done it yourself.”

  Grace pinched her lips. “No, it’s better this way. It was a family effort.”

  He lifted his eyebrow. “A family effort?”

  She bristled. “I meant with me and Sophie. I mean—oh, you know what I meant!” She tossed up her hands and stormed off to get one last prop from the picked-over selection, feeling Luke’s gaze on her back.

  He was still watching her when she came back, and his grin turned positively wolfish when they were awarded a basic participation ribbon.

  “Stop it,” she hissed, swatting his arm.

  “I can’t help it,” he retorted gleefully. “It’s the first time I’ve ever seen you lose. I need to see how you’ll take it. Should I call an ambulance?”

  “Stop,” she said, but she was smiling too. “I’ve changed. I don’t get hung u
p on things like this anymore.”

  He frowned, crossing his arms over his chest, clearly not believing a word of it. “Really?”

  “Yes, really,” she said, growing impatient.

  He narrowed his gaze, studying her. Finally, he said, “I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, you don’t have to.”

  “I know you, Grace.”

  I know you, Grace. She closed her eyes, wishing she could hide behind them forever.

  “You don’t know me anymore,” she said briskly. “I’ve been gone a long time. Maybe I’ve changed.”

  He leaned forward. “Maybe?” His eyes were gleaming, and she immediately knew she had misspoke.

  “Okay, fine you win!”

  “Aha!” He wagged a playful finger at her. “You’re a determined woman, Grace. I always loved that about you. When you want something, you don’t let anything stand in your way.”

  She grew silent. He was right. When she wanted something, she didn’t back down easily. And right now what she wanted was to save her father’s bookstore. And heal her broken heart.

  “I should get Sophie that hot chocolate I promised her,” she said, fighting off a shiver as a cool wind ripped through the festival. “It’s getting too cold out here anyway. We should probably go home soon. I’m watching Sophie for the night to give Jane a break.”

  Luke nodded and thrust his hands into his pockets, looking pensive. “What are you doing later, after she goes to bed?”

  “I don’t know.” She paused. “Why?”

  “Want to meet me at the pub?” He motioned to the bar across the way, his tone becoming serious.

  Meet Luke at the pub? Her stomach was doing jumping jacks as she stared at him, trying to soak more out of him, but finding her heart only twisting at his handsome face. “Um, sure, I guess. Eight o’clock sound good?”

  He nodded. “I’ll see you then,” he said.

  She stepped away. “Okay, see you then,” she said. She held up a hand, a hint of a wave, and then led Sophie over to the stand for her hot chocolate. And as she handed over the wad of dollar bills and dared to glance back, the jolt she experienced when she realized he was still looking at her caused her to nearly spill the damn drink all over herself.

  Luke wanted to meet her at the pub. He had sought her out, looked for her at the festival.

  But why?

  Time to find out. Drawing a sharp breath, Grace unlatched her seat belt and pushed open the door. The wind closed it for her with a heavy slam, and she shoved her hands deep into her pockets, bracing herself against the biting cold. Hoping her nerves wouldn’t get the better of her, she walked quickly across the parking lot to the wooden door of the pub, the music loud enough to be heard through the solid oak. She’d worn heels, which was a vain choice, and her feet slipped across the ice. She cursed to herself, then lifted her chin. It wasn’t often one had the chance to sit face-to-face with the one who got away. Heels, her best jeans, and a low-cut sleeveless blouse were in order. Even if it was about ten degrees below zero.

  Inside, the room was dark, and strings of multicolored lights were hung from the bar, which stretched the length of the far wall. She swept her eyes around the establishment, trying not to look too obvious or desperate in her search, when her eyes locked with his. Her breath hitched at the sight.

  Luke sat at the bar, his square jaw set, his blue eyes hooded by two lethal brows. His gaze was unwavering in its intensity; the hold he had over her rendered her powerless. A spasm of lust zipped through her stomach and she drew in a breath, willing herself not to give in to attraction, because that’s all it was by now. Plain and simple attraction. Sure, she had loved him once, but that was over. Ancient history. She couldn’t expect to suddenly find the man repulsive, though. Especially when he looked like he did tonight.

  She edged closer, her lips curving into a slow smile, and his expression matched hers. As she neared his body, she could smell the musk of his aftershave, that hint of sandalwood she would recognize anywhere.

  Luke was leaning on an elbow resting on the bar. His shoulders were wide and sculpted, and she could make out the curves of his biceps through his navy merino sweater. Her fingers itched to reach out and trace their way down the contours of his body, to feel his hard chest under his sweater.

  She lowered her gaze, but her stomach only flipped as her eyes came to rest on his thick, muscled thighs. She could still remember how hard and strong they felt under her palms when he lay himself on top of her. She closed her eyes and her breath snagged in her throat.

  “Been waiting long?” she asked, hovering near him as his eyes roamed over her face, his lips giving the first hint of a smile, his eyes shadowing something infinitely deeper.

  He shrugged. “Nah.” He lifted his chin in the direction of a booth. “Want to sit at a table?”

  She nodded as he stood. “Sure.”

  She slid into the dimly lit booth, noticing how high the seatbacks were, how enclosed she felt with only a candle to light the table and Luke so close, staring at her like he hadn’t known her for most of his life, like he was seeing her for the first time.

  She shrugged her coat off her shoulders and leaned back against it, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she studied the drinks menu. The heat of Luke’s gaze was burning a hole right through her heart, and she couldn’t bear to meet his eyes, not when she didn’t know what he was thinking. Not when she didn’t know what to say.

  It seemed that Christmas had hit the bar, too. Spiked eggnog, something called a Santa’s Little Helper, even an oddly intriguing concoction named Naughty and Nice. She scanned the wine list. “I think I’ll have the Cabernet.”

  “And here I thought you’d go for the Mistletoe Martini.” Luke grinned.

  The waiter appeared at their table and Grace hesitated. “I’ll have the, um… Special Snowflake,” she said quickly before she could change her mind. She glanced guiltily at Luke, whose eyes gleamed with interest. “Don’t even start. I know what you’re going to say.”

  Luke ordered a beer and then leaned across the table. “And what would that be?”

  “Oh, that the name suits me. That I think I’m better than this town.”

  Luke frowned. “I never thought that. I was just surprised to see you participating in all the Christmas cheer. First the festival and now the holiday libations. What’s next, those little battery-operated earrings shaped like tree lights?”

  Her lips twisted into a smile. “Very funny. It was a moment of weakness. You know how much I like eggnog.”

  “I know how much you like Christmas,” Luke bantered. “You are the Christmas Queen’s daughter after all.”

  Thinking of her mother, Grace felt her spirits deflate. It didn’t seem like anyone she was close to was looking forward to Christmas this year. Well, other than Sophie. She grinned at the thought of her little niece, but her expression fell when she caught Luke’s gaze across the table. She straightened her back against the wooden bench. No use thinking about what might have been.

  “I was surprised you suggested this,” she admitted, sliding the drink menu to the end of the table.

  “Long overdue,” he said.

  Grace frowned and pulled her napkin into her lap, so she could take her nervous energy out on the soft, pliable paper. “First chance you’ve had, maybe. I have been gone a while.”

  “Second chance, perhaps,” he said. He huffed out a breath and ran a hand through his hair, pushing a deep brown lock from his forehead. “I’ve never really forgotten that day—that day you came back.”

  The air closed in Grace’s chest. She held his eyes, not daring to speak. Finally, she managed, “Really?”

  All this time it had seemed so easy for him. She had shown up at his house, stood in his driveway and asked for another chance. She had kissed him, knowing he had a girlfriend, hoping the sensation of her lips on his would remind him of what they shared.

  The look in his eyes when he told her to go, that she was too l
ate, was seared into her memory, and her heart burned with shame. She had overestimated him and the love he had for her. She had thought they meant something, but then she realized in that one brief moment that maybe they never had. Maybe what they shared was a silly kind of love, a love between two kids who had never known anyone else. She was holding on to something Luke had let go of, and she had made a fool of herself trying to win back the heart of a man who no longer belonged to her. He had moved on so quickly. It was easy for him to let her go.

  At least, that’s what she had thought.

  “I try not to think of that day,” she said tightly, gritting her teeth, holding back the emotion that threatened to creep into her voice. She couldn’t let him see how badly he had hurt her, how betrayed she had felt, how shattered.

  No one knew she had come back that day. She didn’t stop to see her parents, her sisters, no one. When Luke pushed her away, told her to leave, she promised herself then and there that she would never return to Briar Creek. She couldn’t bear to stay in this town another second longer than she had to—every street she passed, every shop, every bend in the road—everything reminded her of him.

  She had driven back to New York immediately, not stopping for anything but gas, and her tears had nearly blinded her all the way to her lonely apartment. She had cried for days, unable to get out of bed, to eat, or even to write. Bit by bit she had pulled herself together, her only resolve that she banish any thought of him, that she only think of the future, not the past, and that she never, ever let herself get so close to another person again. If you didn’t get close, you couldn’t get hurt.

  It had worked, so far. She had dated, found companionship, and even almost gotten married. But she hadn’t found love. She didn’t need love. She didn’t want it.

  “I can’t stop thinking about it,” Luke said.

  She stared at him, looking for a hint of a smile, a flicker of something in his eyes that would lighten the mood, but all she saw was the set of his jaw, the thin line of his mouth, the shadow in his eyes.