by Lori Wilde
“Where to?” Kelsey asked.
Tasha shook her head and gave her a you’re-a-lost-cause grin. “How about I surprise you?”
Kelsey nibbled her bottom lip, felt her eye muscle quiver. “I don’t know about that.”
“Say yes for once. Would I steer you wrong?”
Maybe. Tasha was a great friend, but she could be impulsive.
“I’ve got your back, Kels. Never doubt it.”
“And I’ve got yours.”
Tasha winked and disappeared out the door.
Kelsey sank back down on the bench and knocked back another shot of whiskey. Enjoyed the burn this time and the warm swimmy feeling that went through her. She thought about what her mother would say if she walked back into the room at that moment, and quickly hid the bottle in the folds of her dress.
You’re a grown-ass woman, and you got jilted on your wedding day. You can slam back whiskey if you want. She pulled the bottle out, took another swig.
Footsteps sounded in the hall.
She held tight to the bottle. Lifted her chin. Ready to do battle with her mother.
“Knock, knock,” a deep male voice called, and knuckles rapped lightly against the door.
“Come in.”
The door swung open to reveal her father. Accompanying him, of all people, was Lionel Berg. The incumbent mayor who’d lost the race to Filomena.
Chapter 3
Meanwhile, seventy-five miles away in Twilight, Texas . . .
“I wouldn’t mind having a Santa like you come down my chimney,” teased Raylene, the receptionist for the Rockabye Boatel, as she reached for a glue stick to dab the backs of the snowflakes she’d cut out of construction paper.
The septuagenarian had been married for the past forty-five years to Earl Pringle, the love of her life. She was an outrageous flirt but didn’t mean anything by it. In her day, she’d been a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader, and had once run a local bar called The Horny Toad Tavern until she’d retired and turned it over to her son, Earl Junior. Raylene’s sassy nature and lively grin were why Noah MacGregor and his twin brother, Joel, had hired her. She’d applied for the job saying retirement just wasn’t for her.
“What would Earl think of that?” Noah MacGregor drawled and winked down at Raylene from where he stood on the step stool in a Santa suit—fake beard, pillow-stuffed waist, and all. He was not the least bit offended. Raylene was just being Raylene, outrageous and unapologetic.
“Earl says he doesn’t care where I get my appetite as long as I eat at home.” Raylene handed snowflakes up for him to hang.
“You do know I’m young enough to be your grandson.”
“And you know I don’t rob cradles.”
“Did this conversation just turn creepy?”
“Hey buddy, you’re the hot one. You have to expect some mindless flirting.” Raylene stepped back, set down the glue stick, cocked her head, and eyed his handiwork.
“How’s it looking?”
“You know,” she said, her voice turning wistful. “Your mother would be so proud of you. I hate that she’s not here to see everything you’ve accomplished.”
“Yeah, so accomplished,” Noah muttered. “NBA burnout my first year on the court as a Spur.”
“Honey, you know how many people with big dreams never even played college ball, much less went pro? You’re a hero in this town.”
Noah did know. Despite his career-ending injury, and the blowup of his marriage, Noah had bounced back. While he would never play professional basketball again, he could walk without a limp, and he’d made enough money in the NBA to go into business with his twin brother, Joel. First they bought the Brazos Queen paddle wheel boat, hiring it out for weekend dinner cruises. Joel was in charge of that arm of the business. Then they’d added a seasonal scuba diving business, also selling diving equipment and merchandise out of their brother-in-law Jesse’s motorcycle shop.
Last year Noah bought Christmas Island—a small island in the middle of Lake Twilight—and a second paddle wheel boat. He moored the vessel out by the island and turned the boat into a B&B. Called the Rockabye Boatel, it had been open three months and while the boatel did not yet turn a profit, Noah was confident that it was only a matter of time.
His life after the NBA had gone pretty well. Noah couldn’t view the career-ending injury as anything other than a stroke of luck. His marriage wasn’t built on a strong foundation, so if his injury had cost him a wife he realized that some things just weren’t meant to be and the marriage would have ended anyway.
And Noah, whose life motto was “Don’t worry, be happy,” had been able to let go and let things be without any bitterness.
His ex, Melissa, had said that was bullshit, that he was just shallow and lacked ambition, and when the going got tough, Noah found something new and shiny to capture his interest, rather than put in the hard work required. But hey, she was the one who took up with another NBA player.
Noah’s take? He had a knack for accepting life as it came and that teed Melissa off because social climbing was her thing. He really didn’t care all that much about status or keeping up with the Joneses.
The Rockabye was his baby, and he loved running it as much as he’d loved playing basketball. In fact, Noah loved life. The only thing missing? A wife and kids. But he was in no hurry.
He wasn’t the least bit worried about ending up alone. Life had a way of working itself out.
Right now, his biggest goal was to top the donation he’d made last year to a charity near and dear to his heart. Research to cure amyotrophic lateral sclerosis, commonly called Lou Gehrig’s disease, the progressive neurodegenerative disease that had taken his mother’s life when she was forty. Last year, through his involvement in various activities, he’d raised twenty thousand dollars. This year, he was shooting for twenty-five.
And part of achieving that goal involved winning the town Christmas decorating contest and the fifteen-hundred-dollar prize.
“We’ve got to get the gazebo finished if we have any hope of winning the Christmas competition,” Raylene said, reading his mind. “All entries have to be completed by Monday afternoon for the first round of judging, and you submitted the gazebo as part of the decorating schematic, so you can’t leave it off.”
“It’s that soon already?” Time did fly, and his biggest weakness was his organizational skills.
Or lack thereof. Good thing Raylene was pretty great at cracking the whip.
“Boy, you do live in a dream world.” Raylene picked up the supplies that she’d used to make the snowflakes and scurried around the reception desk. She was dressed like an elf: green tights, a red dress with a short skirt, and a Christmas cap with a jingle bell on the end that jangled merrily when she walked. “If you were a water park ride, you’d be the lazy river.”
“Everyone loves the lazy river.” He chuckled.
Raylene shook her head. “Everyone pees in the lazy river.”
“Is there subtext I’m not picking up on?” Noah scratched his head.
“Good thing you’re so hot, and women come to you instead of you having to chase them out.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re too comfortable with the status quo.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“We don’t grow inside our comfort zones.”
“You’ve been hanging around with Sean too much.”
“He does like to show off his navy SEAL tattoo. Get Comfortable with Uncomfortable.”
“Good thing I was never a SEAL, huh?”
“Pfft.” Raylene waved a dismissive hand. “You would have washed out the first day.”
“You’re saying Sean is tougher than me?”
“Oh baby, by leaps and bounds.”
“Should I be offended?”
“Yes, but you won’t be because you’re too lazy.”
“Are you forgetting who signs your paycheck?”
Raylene patted his cheek. “We’ve g
ot to get a move on and get this decorating finished. And I’m not climbing up on any ladders. Break a hip at my age, and it’s . . .” She made cutting noises and pantomimed a slashing motion across her throat. “All over but the crying.”
Noah, who was headed to the town square where he was playing Santa for the afternoon toy drive, said, “Get he-man Sean to finish the gazebo. By the way, I’ll be out late tonight.”
“You could do the outside lights tomorrow morning.”
“Did you forget that tomorrow is the First Love Cookie Club’s brunch?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be there.”
The First Love Cookie Club was a group of local women who got together every year to bake cookies for the troops overseas, sip wine, swap cookie recipes, and gossip in equal measure.
The cookie swaps had been such a success that over the years the club members had added more events to support local charities. The money raised from tomorrow’s brunch would go to fund the Christmas Angel Tree project for underprivileged kids. This year, his oldest sister, Flynn, was the club president.
“I’m only going for the mimosas,” Raylene said. “Why? Are you going too?”
“Flynn twisted my arm to make my famous eggs Benedict for fifty people,” he said. “I must be nuts. I’ll be up before dawn.”
“Oh, quit your bellyaching. I know you love this town’s Christmas crazies. And you love for people to admire your cooking. So get your lazy bones out of bed and blow the socks off those cookie club gals with your culinary skills.”
Noah grinned. He did love cooking. Especially at Christmas. Then again, loving the holiday was practically obligatory for a man who lived on Christmas Island.
“About the gazebo—”
“Bug Sean.”
“He’ll say entering the competition was your idea, and you should do it.”
Noah picked up his Santa toy sack, brimming with gifts, which was sitting beside the door. “He’s my employee. Tell him to get on it.”
Raylene snorted. “I’m not bossing around a former navy SEAL. You tell him to get on it.”
“I don’t get any respect,” Noah grumbled good-naturedly.
“By the way, the light on the front porch lantern needs changing.” Raylene reached under the counter for a box of energy-efficient lightbulbs and pushed them toward him. “Have at it, Santa baby.”
“Remind me again why I don’t fire you?”
Raylene grinned. “I add spice to your life.”
“Oh yeah, that.”
Chuckling, he swiped the lightbulbs off the counter and in full Santa regalia, toy sack slung over his shoulder, Noah strolled out onto the deck platform that anchored the Rockabye to Christmas Island. The sky was cozy gray, the gentle colors of a soft hug.
Two miles across the lake, barely visible from where he stood in the drizzly December mist, lay Camp Hope, the bereavement camp for children. His nostalgic mind drifted to his childhood sweetheart, Kelsey James.
He’d heard on the news that Filomena had been elected the mayor of Dallas and Kelsey was her campaign manager and engaged to the son of a Texas Supreme Court Justice. He wished her all the best and prayed she was as happy in her life as he was in his.
A familiar double punch of longing and regret hit his gut. He still remembered how she’d looked that night, wearing a bright blue bikini, stretched out on a blanket on the dock. Full moon shining a halo of light over her. Her blond hair was damp and adorably frizzy from the humidity. Her blue-eyed gaze hooked on him as he’d stepped from the shadows and onto the dock, his heart pounding wildly.
He’d been in love with her since they were eleven-year-olds at camp for the first time. But since the previous summer, she’d bloomed into a full-grown woman, all sweet curves and soft lines, and their friendship had grown into something much more.
Her beauty struck him dumb.
God, she’d been magnificent. Like the water itself. Cool, quiet, deep. But beneath the surface ran a current of dark mystery, and primal passion as yet unleashed. She was self-contained, unruffled, observant and at the same time sizzling, sexy, and sumptuous. He’d fallen hook, line, and sinker for that devastating fire-and-ice combo.
And if he and Kelsey had ever made full use of that blanket, no telling where they might have ended up. Hell, he’d tried. Shucking off his shirt, unsnapping his jeans, sinking to his knees beside her as she reached for his zipper. Their hungry mouths groping for each other.
Seventeen.
Both virgins. Both burning with need. Both still sitting on a helluva lot of grief. Kelsey missing her twin sister. Noah mourning his mother.
He’d often wondered in the ensuing years if that’s what their attraction had been all about. Comfort. Solace. Bonding.
Then while they were in the middle of the most passionate kiss of his life, out of nowhere, Kelsey’s mother had come storming onto the dock. She’d dragged her daughter from his arms, threatened to have him arrested for sexual assault, and whisked Kelsey back to Dallas.
Several times he’d tried to contact Kelsey, but his letters had been returned unopened, his cell phone and social media accounts had been blocked. And when he’d shown up at her house, Kelsey’s mother met him at the door saying that Kelsey never wanted to see him again and if he didn’t back off that she’d get his scholarship to the University of Texas revoked. He believed her.
Filomena was a scary woman.
So he’d walked away from Kelsey and his ridiculous teenage fantasies.
Oh well, the past was the past. He’d gotten over her. Moved on. Aced college. Immediately got drafted by the San Antonio Spurs farm team, met Melissa, got moved up to the NBA, got married, got injured, then got divorced and . . . well, now here he was. Right back in the town where he’d started. Life had come full circle.
Back in Dallas . . .
Overjoyed to see her father, Kelsey launched herself into his arms, not even caring that Lionel Berg watched.
“Daddy!”
Country club golf pro Theodore James was dressed in his ubiquitous Hawaiian shirt and khaki slacks and golf cleats. Smelling of coconut sunscreen, he wrapped his arms around his daughter and squeezed her tight.
Berg too looked as if he’d been out on the links, in golf knickers, argyle socks, and a tweed golfer’s cap.
“I am so sorry about Clive,” Theo said. “I suspected he batted for the other team, but I didn’t know how to bring it up, and I learned a long time ago, you’ve got to let people be who they are.”
“Thank you, but it wasn’t your fault.”
“Or yours either, kiddo. I know how you take things to heart.” Her father cupped Kelsey’s chin in his palm. He’d been more of a mother to her than Filomena was, but he’d let the woman push him around. Maybe there’s where Kelsey had gotten her passive, peacemaking ways. “Remember when you thought the divorce was your fault?”
“If I’d just been a better kid—”
“You were a perfect kid. You were never the problem. Not with our divorce or Clive’s choices.”
Kelsey massaged her temple. “I should have seen the signs. They were all there.”
“Don’t beat yourself up. It’s all going to work out.”
“I agree.” Kelsey nodded. “There are better things ahead for both Clive and me. I’m just glad you’re happy. How is Leah? Is she here?”
“Leah thought she better sit this one out,” Theo said, referring to his much younger girlfriend who Kelsey adored but Filomena loathed. Leah was only seven years older than Kelsey. “And now, it’s your turn to find your place in the world. Wait, is that Fireball?”
“Do you want some?”
“Does a bear . . . oh just give it.” Her father laughed and reached for the whiskey and downed a fourth of what remained. “Sorry to be greedy, I’ll be seeing your mother later.”
Kelsey slid a glance over at Lionel Berg, who was waiting patiently with his hands clasped behind his back. “I’m sorry Mom banned you from the wedding.”
“At l
east she said I could come to the reception.”
“I tried to get her to let you walk me down the aisle,” Kelsey said, anxiety yanking the muscle at her eye. “I should have stood up to her—”
“Kiddo.” Her father rested his hand on her shoulder. “You don’t have to explain your mother to me. I was married to her for fourteen miserable years.”
“It wasn’t fair to leave you out of the wedding.” Ashamed, Kelsey ducked her head.
“I didn’t miss anything,” he said. “I’ll give you away at the real wedding. When you find the guy you want to marry, not the one Filomena picked out for you.”
Kelsey caught Lionel Berg’s eye. “Excuse me, Mayor, I don’t mean to be rude, but why are you here?”
“I know this is an inopportune time.” Lionel Berg straightened, cleared his throat. “Please excuse me for interrupting and please accept my condolences regarding your wedding . . .”
Kelsey raised both palms. “Don’t worry about that. How can I help you?”
Lionel Berg shot a look at Theo. “Your father is my golf instructor, and he’s told me that you’re still planning to work for your mother at City Hall.”
“She’s making me her office manager.”
Berg held her gaze. “That would be a tremendous waste of your skills.”
“What skills?”
“The way you got your mother elected? Her win was all due to you. You’re an excellent mediator.”
“You’re downplaying my mother’s charisma.”
“Oh, Filomena has her initial charm, don’t get me wrong,” Lionel said. “But you’re what holds that ship together.”
“Which is why I’m going to work for her at City Hall.”
“What if you had another option?” Berg widened his stance.
“Meaning?” Kelsey tilted her head, shot her dad a sidelong glance. Filomena often said Theo was an overgrown frat boy and right now he was looking the part. Vivid tan even in December, his garish shirt, golden chain necklace, straight white teeth and let’s-party-down smile. What had he and the outgoing mayor cooked up behind her back?
