Mistletoe Kisses

by Marnie Blue

  “You see now why I tolerate the television upstairs. It’s for noise. And for show,” he said.

  “So this is a man cave, huh?” Lilly looked around. “I thought there would be animal heads.”

  He shrugged. “Nah. The way they stare makes me nervous.”

  She nodded. “I get that. The why-did-you-shoot-me look.”

  “Exactly.”

  As they stepped down onto the dark gray carpeted floor, Justin picked up a tablet-sized remote from a glass-topped table at the bottom of the stairs and with one click of his finger, jazz music played from built-in speakers arranged in the ceiling and walls for what was probably cinema-quality surround sound. He sighed with what appeared to be pleasure. “This is it, Lilly. My happy place, my sanctuary. The place where I live.”

  She gestured to his laptop, set up on a large desk in the corner that apparently served as his office space. “That must be where you do your taxes. Is that part of your happy place?”

  He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Perhaps.”

  Lilly gave him her best saucy smile, then started off to explore by opening one of the doors to the side. One of them led to a well-organized laundry area and the garage. She shut that door quickly—it was cold in there. The next door led to the storage area of the basement, and what she saw there made her squeal: labeled boxes, neatly stacked on tall metal shelves.

  “I show you my world, yet you exult in plastic storage bins. I’m crushed.” Justin came to look over her shoulder.

  “Sorry, Aladdin,” she said and pointed. “Christmas ornaments, not plastic storage bins.” Lilly paused as a thought occurred to her. “Wait. Were they your grandparents’, too? Please tell me they’re not pink and plastic.”

  “I dunno. Pink, possibly. Plastic? Probably.” He looked around the shelved room. “Gosh. I need to start throwing stuff down here away.”

  “You need to put up a Christmas tree!” Lilly turned and slapped his shoulder. “Did they have one stored here somewhere?”

  “That I did toss. It was made of aluminum, and it spun around. Hideous.” He grimaced.

  Lilly groaned. “You threw away an actual 1950s tacky aluminum spinning tree? Are you out of your mind?”

  He stared her. “Well…yeah. It was, as you put it, tacky. And it was in the way. I mean, I have stuff to store, too, and—”

  “It was vintage!” She shook her head. She would have parted with the canisters and diner-decor dining set before she parted with an aluminum tree. “The memories that tree held.”

  “Not for me,” Justin said. He took her by the hand and tugged her from the room to the couches. Lilly let him pull her onto the sofa beside him. “Listen. I had no memories. My grandfather died in 1965. My grandmother moved to Florida shortly thereafter. I never saw that tree at Christmas. This house was empty, for the most part. Dad kept it, but other than checking on it occasionally, it stayed as is. Then when he died…” He sighed. “It was caught up in probate for a while. Then Mom decided not to sell it, but kept it for me. Or Hannah. Whichever of us wanted it. Hannah didn’t, so…”

  “That’s why everything’s pristine and hasn’t been updated. It’s like a time capsule.”

  “Exactly. After I got back from Afghanistan, I needed a place to live, so Mom signed the house over to me. I installed the man cave. And bought a new bedroom set, of course. Because—memory foam.”

  “Of course.” She nodded and looked around. Maybe it was because he mentioned his bedroom, or maybe it was just because the devil on her shoulder whispered it in her ear to say before she could stop herself. Lilly blurted, “So is this where you seduce women?” Oh gosh, why did I just say that?

  His ears turned red. “A gentleman never tells.”

  Of course he doesn’t. She wondered what would happen if she reached out to kiss him. Instead, Lilly leaned back against the back of the couch and crossed her arms. “So, put on the giant TV and let me hear that surround sound.”

  “Gladly.” He lifted the remote and pressed some of many the buttons.

  “That looks so complicated.”

  “It’s universal. It controls the whole basement.” He squinted at the television, swore under his breath, then tapped a few more buttons.

  “Are you sure you haven’t just—I don’t know—launched a missile or something? It looks like a device NASA would use.”

  “Ha,” he said as the television came on.

  A black-and-white Bing Crosby and some scrawny guy appeared on the screen. They wore straw hats and were tap-dancing together.

  “Um…no,” Justin breathed, and made to change the channel. Lilly grabbed his arm.

  “Don’t! It’s Holiday Inn. That’s Fred Astaire.”

  “Wonderful. It’s a Christmas movie and a musical. With tap dancing. No.” He held the remote out of reach.

  “Stop being such a poop, and let’s watch it. I promise, it’s not awful! Fred Astaire is amazing.” She leaned across him trying to get the remote away, and failing. But then, Justin was warm, and lying across him wasn’t the worst thing in the world. She could stay here a bit and keep trying.

  “It’s impossible for a musical not to be awful, no matter who’s in it.” He laughed, still holding the remote at arm’s length, peering down at her face. Then his gaze dropped to her lips. Lilly grew still; she could tell he wanted to kiss her. And she wanted him to.

  But then he lowered his arm and dropped the remote on the arm of the couch, and the moment was broken. “I guess we could watch it,” he said.

  A wave of disappointment sluiced over her even as she knew it was better that he didn’t try to kiss her. Lilly leaned back and stared at the screen, no longer that interested in watching the television. Still, the heat from Justin’s body seeped into her side, making her tingle. If this was as close to Justin as she could get, it would have to do. It was comfortable, anyway, and soothing. She even felt sleepy. She sighed and settled in to watch the movie.

  A few moments later, he got up. She wanted to protest, but it didn’t take him long to return with a soft fuzzy blanket bearing a Red Sox logo. He spread it over her, then sat down once more.

  “Want to share?” she asked, and was surprised when he nodded and slid under the blanket with her. The warmth of his body enveloped her once more. Before long, her eyes were closing. As much as she fought, she couldn’t keep them open, and before she could stop herself, she fell asleep.

  …

  Justin kept the movie on even after Lilly started to snore. He had to laugh to himself. Even in sleep, Lilly had to make some sort of contribution to the atmosphere. Peace and quiet didn’t become her.

  When she shivered, he allowed himself to cuddle her in his arms. She wouldn’t be driving home tonight. Not in this snowstorm. Risky Lilly. He inhaled her candy-cane scent and finally, full of a huge, warm feeling he was afraid to name, he allowed himself to enjoy holding her close in his arms. Eventually, lulled by her deep, even breathing and the comfort of holding her close, he, too, fell asleep.

  But when he woke the next morning, she was gone. Justin sat up. He was cold. And alone. He got to his feet and hurried upstairs. The house was silent—and empty. He moved to peer out the large picture window. The sky was a brilliant blue and the snow sparkled under the morning sun. And Lilly’s car was gone. She hadn’t shoveled, but left tracks in the snowy driveway. Implausibly, she’d managed to back out through the pile of snow left by the plow and head out.

  Dammit, Lilly. He reached for his phone to call her, though he had no idea what he’d say. He had no right to say anything. Still, disappointment sat like a rock in his stomach. For some reason, he’d expected they’d spend some time together today. Stupid, really. Even stupider, he found himself leaving a message when she didn’t answer her phone. “Lilly! Where are you?”

  They hadn’t talked at all. Instead they’d skirted the issue—that kiss—to talk nonsense.

  Crap. But then his heart leaped as her tiny car pulled around the corner. Instead of moving back
into the drive, she parked in front of the house. He watched her get out and stomp through the snow with a cardboard tray of hot coffees and a white paper bag in her hands. Lilly came in with a draft of wintery wind; she grinned when she saw him standing there. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she said with her characteristic brightness.

  “You weren’t here,” he said. “I woke up, and you were gone.” He sounded like a petulant teen. He felt like one, too.

  She held up the tray of coffees. “Bagels and coffee from Hake’s Bakery. It’s around the corner. Don’t tell me you’ve never been there. I could smell the bread baking when I went outside to see how much it snowed and had to go.”

  Justin shook his head. “You’re killing me, Lilly.”

  “Just keeping you on your ho-ho-toes.” She winked. “Come on. Let’s have breakfast, then I’ll finish making the rest of those cookies. We fell asleep in your man cave.”

  “Because of the movie. It put us to sleep. I warned you about musicals.” He followed her to the kitchen and to the table in the corner.

  “I will fight you to the death on this one. Holiday Inn is one of the best Christmas movies ever.”

  “As if there is such a thing. I’m not going to argue with you. Just give me coffee.” Justin pulled out a chair and sat down.

  Lilly handed him one of the cups, then wrinkled her nose as she sat down. She didn’t take off her coat or her boots, but sat there with her hands wrapped around her paper cup. “Justin, we need to talk.”

  “I know.” His stomach flip-flopped; he’d wanted to wait until after breakfast to get serious. No, that wasn’t true. He honestly hadn’t wanted to get serious at all. “Are you always this cheerful first thing in the morning? You’re kind of messing up my groove.”

  “I suppose.” Lilly reached to pull a few napkins from the holder on the lazy Susan in the center of the table. She paused as one of the pink-and-yellow salt and pepper shakers tottered off onto the table. Picking it up, she said, “This is a good time to mention it. Justin, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but it’s really pink in here.”

  That wasn’t the serious topic he’d expected. Apparently, she wasn’t ready—or able—to discuss it, either.

  Surprised and with a mouthful of coffee, Justin caught himself in a laugh, almost snorting the hot beverage through his nose. He blinked his watering eyes and coughed instead. “I like it.”

  “Really? Dude. It’s like sitting inside a bottle of Pepto.”

  True. But still. “Someone offered me $150 for the pink bread box. Plus another $100 for the matching canisters.”

  “Sell. Sell!” She paused. “Who?”

  Justin smirked. “I was hoping you’d ask. O’Rourke.”

  “No!” A huge smile spread across her face. Justin’s heart skipped a beat. “Really? Oh, I am so going to bust him about that.” She lifted her coffee cup in salute.

  “I know.” Justin grinned. “Right?” He tapped her coffee with his—the contents sloshed. “He offered me $800 for this table-and-chair set.”

  “Obviously, you refused.” Lilly handed him one of the napkins, then passed out the contents of the bag. Taking a bite of her bagel, she chewed. “At least the chairs have a touch of mint green in them. The bathroom is just so pink.”

  “True.” Justin paused. “I had a hell of a time getting a new toilet seat. In the end, I painted the old one.”

  “A handyman. I like that.”

  “I have my uses.”

  “That’s good, because I have a plan for today, and I could use a man who’s handy.”

  “I’m not sure I like the sound of that,” Justin said.

  Lilly only smiled.

  …

  “I can’t believe you’ve gotten me to do this.” Justin pulled his coat collar up around his face and peered around the tree lot. The last thing he wanted was somebody he’d recently arrested who’d gotten released recognizing him and causing trouble, especially when he was with Lilly. “Couldn’t we have just—I don’t know—gone artificial?”

  “You said it yourself—you don’t have enough storage room. And besides, you’re Santa. You have to have a real tree.”

  “Needles,” he groaned.

  “Dust mites,” she answered, and waved a dismissive hand. “Not to mention storage. You had an artificial tree and you tossed it. So now you’re here. How about that one?” Lilly went halfway across the lot and pointed.

  Justin shrugged. To him, all the trees looked alike. They were mostly green, they had branches, and they belonged outside. He sighed. “That’s fine. Let’s go.”

  She frowned and came back to stand next to him. “I get the feeling you’re not enjoying this experience.”

  “I’m okay,” he said. “Whatever you like.”

  A car pulled into the lot. It had darkened windows. Not dark enough to be illegal, but anytime he saw a car that had tints, his guard went up. As he peered through the tinted glass, his skin prickled as he realized what he was seeing. “Stand right here where I can see you. It looks like everyone in that car is wearing hoodies.”

  “Oh no,” Lilly gasped and grabbed his arm. “That is suspicious. You’d think it was winter or something.”

  This was no time for joking. He shook her hand off. “They could be in a gang.” He reached for his off-duty weapon tucked in its holster under his jacket. “Get behind me. Last week, I busted a drug dealer who drove a black Mercedes just like that. He could have changed the plates.”

  The car doors all opened at once. Justin put his hand on her shoulder and pushed her behind him. “Get ready to move. If I tell you to get down, you. Get. Down.”

  For once, she didn’t sass him back, and for that he was grateful. He carefully slid his pistol from the holster, but kept his hand tucked under his coat. The last thing he wanted to do was wave his Sig Sauer around and cause panic. There were families on the tree lot, women and children.

  Then again, if the dealer was onto him and after him… His body quivered from adrenaline and his senses went into hyperdrive as the occupants of the car emerged. All of them were in black. Large gold crosses dangled from chains around their necks…Justin winced. Crap.

  “Oh. My,” Lilly whispered behind him. “You’re right! It is a gang! I recognize them. They call themselves the Little Sisters of the Blessed Blood, but most people just call them nuns.”

  Justin slid his pistol back into the holster and sighed. “Ha-ha.”

  “You should see them throw their gang sign. They do something like this…” She made a cross in the air with her right hand. “I hear their weapons of choice are a set of glass beads and some holy water. They’re like ninjas with those things.” She started doing karate kicks and waving her arms in the air. “We bring socks for the homeless and sandwiches for the poor! Hee-yah!”

  “Cut it out, Menace. You’ve made your point.” Justin pulled his sunglasses out of his pocket and put them on. God forbid someone he knew recognize him with her right now…

  “Good. Now stop being such a killjoy, Cop Kringle, and come pick out a tree.” She grabbed his hand and wrapped her fingers around it, then tugged. He fell into step behind her, walking by tall lines of trees set in metal holders. The sharp scent of pine filled his nostrils.

  Hers, too, he supposed, as she stopped to take a deep sniff. “Isn’t that the best smell in the world?”

  “It smells like the stuff I use to clean my toilet.” He shrugged. Better, really, but he wasn’t about to admit it.

  She ignored him. “I remember going to pick a tree out with your family for the first time. We went to a real tree farm. Remember? It was a long drive. Your mom packed a thermos of hot cider and some sandwiches. And it was a good thing she did, because it took us something like three hours to tag a tree!”

  Justin tried not to remember, except he couldn’t help himself. “We started out singing Christmas carols and ended up arguing. I remember that.” He paused. “You wanted some weenie Charlie Brown tree because you felt bad for it.”
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  “You wanted the one that wouldn’t fit in your house because it was too tall.” She smiled, her eyes twinkling. Justin held himself still. She was so beautiful. All he wanted to do was bend down, pull her against him, and kiss her. Instead, he said, “Shut up. The nuns are watching.” He slid his sunglasses down his nose with his index finger to peer at her. “You’re a menace, Lilly Maddox.”

  She laughed, then continued down the aisle of trees. “You know, I just realized something. Your dad said we’d get the tree of the person who guessed the number he was thinking, and your mom won. She won every year!”

  “Oh yeah.” Justin pushed his sunglasses back into place. “It’s taken you this long to realize that was rigged?” He grinned. “You and Hannah were convinced she was psychic. You were so gullible!”

  “We were only eight years old!”

  “And then nine, and then ten, and then eleven…” He laughed.

  “You thought she was psychic, too.”

  Caught up in their memories, Justin didn’t realize he’d stuck out his tongue at her until after he’d done it. He pretended not to notice. “Eventually, I figured out that Mom always picked the tree and Dad only told us that she’d guessed the number he was thinking to shut us up. The three of us only thought we had a choice.”

  She smiled and continued picking her way down the aisle, looking at each tree in turn. “It didn’t matter which tree we picked. Once it was up and decorated, it was always the most beautiful tree ever.”

  “That’s because we didn’t pick it. Mom did.”

  “Ooh! How about this one?” Lilly pulled him down to the end of the row.

  “Is it a Charlie Brown tree? I’m not getting some sad, naked tree just because you feel bad for it.”

  “No, I promise this is a good one. It’s perfect,” she answered, and he had to agree. It was perfect. It was only later that Justin realized he’d been able to remember his parents with joy instead of pain for the first time since his father died.