Mistletoe Kisses

by Marnie Blue

  But Lilly just laughed. “You’re such a weirdo, Justin. All right. I think you’ve lost your mind, but it’s your choice. I’ll be there after I take a shower and get dressed.”

  “I’ll be here.” Justin hung up the phone with an odd sense of anticipation in his belly. As he wandered through his empty house, he realized—he missed her. Which was strange, because she’d never been a part of his life prior to this week. Having her in his home for only twelve hours had created some kind of impression; the silence he’d found so peaceful before was oppressive now.

  He couldn’t wait for her to get there. To keep himself busy, he even moved the Christmas tree into the living room, pushing the giant old-fashioned stereo console to the other side of the room. It took him a while to re-stand the tree straight in the front window, and it seemed to take forever to clean up the needles that fell off, but in the end, he was pleased with the result. Sure, the tree was bare, but it was a positive Lilly-like change to the atmosphere of the room.

  Justin wondered if Lilly would help him decorate it—maybe if they finished up with whatever she needed to do before dinner. They would; it was early and they had a whole day to fill. He wondered again what he’d been thinking, to insist on going with her.

  It was a bad idea.

  Then again, this technically was her tree. She deserved to decorate it. She loved decorating the tree. He remembered how excited she’d get, every year. She’d put on Christmas carols—ugh—and didn’t complain once about untangling the strings of lights.

  He’d called her a freak of Christmas-nature back then, but now…he could only admire her attitude. She was merry.

  He was a mess. He wanted to be with her even as he knew it was a terrible idea.

  But the visit to the Crosby’s had renewed his resolve. He wasn’t going to destroy a woman he loved—or their children—by getting killed on the job and leaving them husband- and fatherless. He’d lived it. He knew the pain. A little sting now would avert a lot of pain later. So he had to tough it out. He could be Lilly’s friend, but nothing more.

  When she arrived, she told him he could drive her car, because she knew that if she didn’t, he’d be backseat-driving the whole way—which was true. It made him feel better to be in control. Until he realized that Lilly appeared to be in some kind of funk, worrying her lower lip with her teeth and shifting back and forth. Something was bothering her. Did he even have to ask what it was? It might be the same thing that was bothering him. That kiss! And the desire to do it again.

  It didn’t matter. It wasn’t to be. They weren’t to be, and they’d clear that up with his mom and sister later that day. Everyone would agree that was for the best, really, once he explained himself.

  Meanwhile, Lilly sat there staring out the window, not talking, which didn’t suit her at all.

  He didn’t like it. He completely understood it—which he didn’t like, either. He and Lilly were simpatico in a way that he’d never experienced with anyone except O’Rourke, and that was because they were partners and had to be.

  He didn’t want to think about what that meant; it irked him anyway.

  Suddenly, Lilly squealed. “Stop the car!”

  “What? What’s wrong?” He only managed to stop himself from stomping on the brakes and making the car behind him rear-end her tiny death box. “Holy crap, Lilly!”

  “Look! At the church! They’re having a Christmas bazaar. We need to go.”

  “You’re kidding me. I nearly caused an accident for a craft fair?” He looked in the rearview mirror; the driver behind him was making rude gestures. He couldn’t blame the guy.

  “I want to get your mom a plant, and they always have nice ones at the bazaar. Come on. Pull into the parking lot. I’ll meet you in the vestibule.” She opened the door and slipped out before he could stop her. So much for simpatico.

  He found a parking space and as promised, she was waiting for him at the entrance to the church, phone in hand. “I texted Cisco.”

  “What?”

  “We’re not turning this opportunity down, Justin. This is perfect! There’s community, there’s kids—it’s a church, at Christmas! It’s got everything the holiday is supposed to have.” She pointed to the sandwich-board sign on the sidewalk. “They’ve even got Santa. You’ll have to sit on his lap.”

  “I beg your pardon? I will not.”

  She fixed her green eyes on him. He tried again. “He might be old and bony. I might accidentally crush him.”

  Lilly fluttered her red-gold lashes; his heart melted. Crud. “All right. Maybe. We’ll see. If I’m not going to hurt him or anything.”

  Lilly smiled, and his heart restored even as his knees grew weak. “Good! Let’s go in!”

  Powerless to stop himself, Justin followed her into the church. As they opened the door, bells rang merrily, and the scent of balsams and cinnamon smacked him like a fist to the face. Christmas. It was painful.

  Even more painful were the crocheted toilet paper covers being displayed on the first table they encountered, right in the center of the church foyer. Complete with dolls poking out of the top.

  Except…he moved closer to look. “Is that a Ken doll?”

  “Yes,” said the gray-haired woman sitting in a folding chair behind the table. “My toilet paper covers don’t discriminate. If you look, dolls representing all races and genders are displayed here.”

  “This is fascinating,” Lilly said. “I work for Channel 10 news. Mind if I get a few pics? And what did you say your name was again?”

  “I didn’t. I’m Sandra, and these are only a few of my pieces. I have an Etsy shop. Here’s my card. Iconic Yarns. ‘Your memories, with a modern twist.’ I do other things, too. I have an adult line that’s a little racy for a church craft show—I call it Fifty Shades of Macramé.” She looked at Justin, raised an eyebrow, and turned back to Lilly. “If you’re interested in a little exploration, that is.”

  Justin frowned. The church bazaar had just taken a turn for the bizarre. In his mind, the craft fair would be just like this—homemade stuff turned out by homemakers and the elderly.

  But none of them would be shilling their wares like they were on Shark Tank or making macramé suitable for bondage. “Are there any more tables?” he asked, suddenly feeling weak.

  “There are more crafters downstairs in the common room,” Sandra told him. “Nothing as interesting as what I make, of course, but you might find something you’d like.” She fixed him with an appraising eye. “You don’t look like the crafty type.”

  Lilly laughed. “You’d be surprised. He’s got doilies. Everywhere.”

  “Hey.” Those were his grandmother’s doilies. “I like my doilies.”

  “Ohhhh.” Sandra raised her brows. “Then you need one of my toilet paper covers. There’s one over there who looks just like you.” She pointed.

  “Is he wearing a pink skirt? He is! Oh, this is perfect.” Lilly lifted the doll and cover from its toilet paper roll. “I’ll take it. Unless…do you have one with blue eyes? Justin’s partner’s eyes are blue.”

  “I’m going downstairs,” Justin announced. He’d seen enough of doily dolls; they gave him the chills.

  The other crafters weren’t as racy as Sandra, which suited Justin perfectly. There were women selling essential oils and diffusers, quilts and hand-sewn baby clothes, hand-lettered Bible verses and signs, and custom portraits of patrons’ pets. There was also a small kitchen area, where some friendly church members served up coffee and pastries. Justin got himself a cup, then sat down to watch the room.

  A bazaar in a basement wasn’t the safest thing, he thought. Hard to get to the exits in case of a fire, and stairs to climb. Lots of older patrons who couldn’t climb quickly; they could be trampled in a panicked situation. He was surprised that the fire marshal had given the church a permit.

  Unless he hadn’t, in which case the church was running an illegal bazaar.

  Then again, they’d run a Christmas bazaar for as long as
he could remember, so they probably were fine. It wasn’t his jurisdiction anyway. Just his years on the street and in Afghanistan talking. He gripped his coffee cup as the familiar waves of panic started to roil in his gut and shake him by the shoulders. Breathe through your nose, he’d been told.

  He breathed through his nose. It didn’t help. His heart began to beat double time. Justin let go of his coffee cup; experience had taught him that he might accidentally crush it.

  But still…he felt unsafe.

  Justin felt even less safe when Lilly appeared, stopping in the doorway to appraise the tables of wares. What would he do if Lilly were in danger? He’d trample anyone if it meant making sure that she was safe. He’d lost enough people that he’d loved.

  His body seemed to vibrate to an unheard bass beat; the other noises around him made him grit his teeth. Especially the laughter—it rang in his head, then rebounded and rang again, only louder. His peripheral vision began to darken as his throat began to close and his heart pounded even harder and faster than before…

  But then Lilly turned her head. When she spotted him sitting at one of the rickety round bistro tables, she smiled at him, and her grin went straight to his heart. The panic ebbed in the light of her grin, curling to the darkest recesses of his mind where it sat licking its wounds like an injured animal. It would be back, but right now, it left as quickly as it had appeared.

  She left the doorway to make her way to him. “Hey, you. I saw you trying to hide over here. What’s the matter? Sandra scare you? I’m going to her house later this week to get pics of her macramé. She’s fascinating.”

  “Uh-huh.” He stood on limbs still shaking. “Did you get what you needed? Can we leave now?” Please? He felt the familiar fatigue of post-traumatic stress. On the streets, he knew how to shake it. Business as usual. But here, he was out of his element. For one thing, the compulsion—the need—to keep Lilly safe weighed heavily on him.

  Yet she was oblivious to his struggle. In fact, she sat down at the table. “Are you kidding? We haven’t even found Santa yet. Where is he, anyway?” She pointed to his cup. “You finish up, I’ll work the crowd. You’re not in costume anyway, but this will be good for later. Even if I can’t use it in my piece, it’s good to promote the crafters. They’ll help my ratings.” With that, she got up and moved off, phone in hand. In no time, she was chatting it up and making friends.

  Classic Lilly.

  Justin attempted to sip his coffee calmly. He’d found that acting normal brought normalcy, and now that he could keep an eye on her, the panic had subsided.

  Across the room, Lilly stopped at a table full of leafy plants; she turned and waved at him to come to her. He gulped down the now-cold coffee and stood, ready for action. How plants could be a call to action he had no idea. Still…he shouldered his way through the crowd to stand beside Lilly.

  “What color poinsettia should we get your mom?” she asked him.

  “Red, white, or pink? We’ve got the glittery kind, too!” the woman behind the table said. Justin looked over the forest of potted plants. What difference did it make? They all pretty much looked the same to him. But the women were waiting for his input, so he tried his best.

  “I don’t know if you want to give my mom a plant with glitter on the leaves. It’s going to make a mess. I know this from personal experience. We raided an illegal strip joint a few months ago, and I’m still finding glitter in my hair.” Glitter stuck to everything. Forever.

  “So that’s why there’s glitter all over your house. I was afraid to ask.” Lilly raised her eyebrows. “I wondered if you had some kind of weird kink.”

  The woman behind the table giggled. “Nothing wrong with a little glitter between the sheets.” She turned to someone sitting down beside her and said, “Isn’t that right?”

  “It is!” A tiny woman got to her feet beside the first woman; she wasn’t much taller standing than she was sitting. But with her blue-dyed hair, Justin wondered how he’d missed her. She didn’t camouflage well with the leaves. “We love glitter.” She winked.

  What was going on with these people? Every one of them was on a level of sharing that made him want to embrace celibacy and privacy. Maybe more than usual. He frowned and shivered.

  Meanwhile, Lilly smirked and fussed with a red-leafed plant glimmering with golden specks. “You’re right. And this is such a pretty plant. Justin, you should grab a pink one for your kitchen table.”

  “Um, yeah. No. I’ll pass, thanks.”

  “It would go so nicely with your toilet paper holder.”

  He lifted an eyebrow at her.

  Lilly and the pair of plant ladies exchanged an amused look. “He’s a cop,” she said by way of explanation. “Too macho for flowers and plants of any color. And glitter.”

  The woman nodded as she wrote out a slip for Lilly’s purchases and told her the total. “I can tell. He’s smoldering and all kinds of hunky over there.” Then she paused and tilted her head. “Wait! He’s a cop? Is he—you’re… Oh! It’s you! I knew I recognized you from somewhere. Not him, of course, because he’s not in his Santa gear, just his street clothes.” She gave Justin the once-over.

  Justin felt flattered and somehow uncomfortable all at the same time.

  “Yes,” Lilly responded. “You recognize me? Us? That’s awesome! Thank you for watching. Tell me… We’re looking for the church’s Santa. Do you know where he is?” She sounded pleased, even chipper.

  Justin, however, felt like he’d stepped into another world. He wasn’t used to being recognized. The post-traumatic stress monster that had only recently curled in his stomach lifted its head and breathed another icy breath. Justin didn’t know how to act, what to feel, or what to prepare for—anything could happen, and none of it was familiar. But it could be dangerous, just like this basement death trap.

  “Yes. As a matter of fact, I do.” The first plant lady nodded. “He’s my nephew. I’ll text him.”

  “Oh no, you don’t have to disturb him,” Justin protested, but she waved that away.

  “Nonsense. He’s supposed to be working the crowd selling raffle tickets anyway. But he and his friend Fred have to load up the kissing trellis, and with the snow…I’ll go find out their ETA.” She slipped out from behind the table with her phone.

  Lilly turned to Justin. “Isn’t this fun?”

  He tilted an eyebrow at her. “That wasn’t the word I was thinking of, but sure. Okay. Fun. I’m having a blast.” He sucked in a breath.

  She frowned. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”

  “I’m fine.”

  She put her hand on his arm. “You don’t look fine.”

  “I’m fine.” He shook her hand off. “I’ll be all right.”

  She gave him a suspicious look, then put her hand back on his arm and leaned in closer. The heat of her touch curled through his body, pushing back the cold feeling of panic that gripped at him. “We’ll get out of here soon. I promise.”

  “I hope so.” Justin cast about for some normalcy and a change of subject. “The football game is on, you know. I’m missing it for you. You’d better appreciate it.”

  “I’ll make it up to you later, all right? Here. Hold your toilet paper holder.” Lilly pulled a grocery bag out of the big purse she had hanging from her arm. “Think of a name for him.”

  “You shouldn’t have.” Justin smiled.

  “Of course. He’s got blue eyes…” She paused, then giggled. “You should name him Kevin.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me…” He peered into the bag; a doll that looked suspiciously too much like a shirtless O’Rourke in a pink crocheted skirt peered back at him. “Lilly! You’ve got to take this back. You spent money on this? I thought you were joking!” Justin closed the bag quickly, but then a thought occurred to him. “I should put it in his locker for everyone to see.”

  The blue-haired plant lady started giggling; after a moment, they realized she was laughing at them. “How long have you two been a coup
le?”

  “Excuse me?” Both Justin and Lilly turned to stare at her.

  “We’re not—” Justin began.

  “Just friends,” Lilly interrupted.

  “Exactly. We’re…” He nodded, casting about for the right word. Only one seemed to fit, and Lilly had said it. “We’re friends.”

  Blue Hair gave them a knowing smile. “Sometimes friends make the best lovers. I speak from experience.”

  “Ah. Well. Yes. We’re not…” Justin trailed off. Lovers? Lovers! No, they were definitely not…

  “That,” Lilly supplied.

  “Right.” Justin nodded.

  There was a change in the crowd; the energy shifted, the noise level rose. Justin’s hackles rose, too, but then the blue-haired plant lady chirped, “Oh. Here come Roger and Fred now!”

  “Your Santa’s name is Roger?” Lilly asked.

  Justin’s unease began to fade once more. But then Blue Hair said, “Oh! Good! Meg is helping them set up the mistletoe trellis.”

  “I heard you say that before. What is a mistletoe trellis?”

  “Sounds bad, whatever it is,” Justin muttered.

  Lilly smacked him in the biceps. “I’m working. Be quiet.”

  Blue Hair looked at them. “You’ll see. It’s going to raise a lot of money. Do you mind keeping an eye on the table for a minute? I’m going to go help set up the green screen.”

  “The…green screen?” Lilly looked intrigued. Justin was suspicious.

  “Yes! It was Fred’s idea. He’s kind of a geek, but he knows his stuff. He even has his own YouTube channel. With the green screen, couples—or families—can choose from different backgrounds, then put on silly costumes or use the Mistletoe Trellis. Fred will take video and stills and feature them on his channel, so people might go viral. It’s a win-win. We make money for charity, Fred’s channel gets exposure, people have funny videos or photos to share with family for Christmas cards.” She paused. “Actually, that’s a win-win-win. But whatever. I’ll be right back.”

  She hurried off to help.

  “Justin, keep an eye on the table,” Lilly said beside him. He turned to see her pulling her phone from her purse.