Romancing the Holidays: Twelve Christmas Romances - Benefits Breast Cancer Research

by Crista McHugh

  He turned left at Queen Anne Avenue and Blaine. A minute later, he took a right onto his street. When he pulled up in the driveway, Morgan was at the front window, looking for him. She was excited to get their tree. Poor thing had been asking for a week now.

  He didn’t bother to put the car in the garage, knowing they would be leaving again soon. “This is my home.”

  “It’s pretty.”

  He tried to see the house from her point of view. Painted light yellow, with black shutters, it had a cheery quality that he loved. This time of year, with white lights that twinkled from the rafters and around the windows, it was as if it smiled at the street.

  As they exited the car, Morgan came bounding down the front steps. “Daddy, daddy, you’re home finally. I’ve been waiting forever.” He knelt for a hug. She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck.

  When they stood, he introduced her to Rena. “We met at jury duty. And it turns out she loves Christmas as much as you and she doesn’t have a place to be tonight. So, I invited her to come with us to get our tree.”

  “Awesome.” Morgan held out her hand. “I’m Morgan Scott. How do you do?”

  Rena shook it. Under dim glow of the porch light, her smile lit up the yard. “I’m Rena Burke and I’m well, thank you.”

  He had to look away so Morgan wouldn’t see his smile. His mother had taught her nice manners, which he appreciated. Too bad they were from the 1940s.

  “You’re really pretty,” Morgan said.

  “You’re really pretty too,” Rena said.

  “We should get inside, Daddy. Grammie’s itching to go home. She has bridge tonight.” This was said to Rena.

  “Good idea. It’s freezing,” Rena said.

  His mother was on the couch, reading. A pile of tissues sat at her side. She stood, obviously surprised to see Rena. “Oh, dear. You would bring a guest the one evening I don’t have everything picked up. And I look a wreck.”

  “Hello, Mom. This is Rena. Rena, this is my mother, Beverly.”

  “I would shake your hand, but I’ve come down with this nasty cold,” his mom said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, dear.”

  Tinsel bolted into the room. Her tail was wagging at warp speed as she approached them. “Sit,” Ryan said.

  The dog obeyed, looking up at him with a grin.

  “Good dog.” Ryan patted her head.

  “Rena’s going with us to pick out a tree,” Morgan said. “Isn’t that cool?”

  His mom turned an inquisitive eye upon him. He stifled a sigh. From the gleam in her eye, he was certain she was already planning the wedding. “And where did you two meet?” she asked.

  “Jury duty,” he said. “I’m Juror Six. She’s Juror Seven.”

  “How interesting.” His mother hadn’t taken her gaze from Rena. Despite her cold, his mom looked as pretty as ever. Petite and slim, she spent a fortune on the finest clothes. She wore her blond hair in a flattering, chin-length style that accentuated her green eyes, and she wouldn’t be caught dead without her signature pink lipstick. He’d inherited her eyes. They were better on a woman. Not that he was complaining.

  “How nice to have such a beautiful young lady to sit next to,” she said. “Lucky you.”

  Rena’s cheeks flamed rose pink.

  His mother was right. Having Rena beside him was better than nice. “It’s definitely made a tedious task more pleasant,” he said.

  “For me too,” Rena said. “We also have an intriguing case.”

  “I’ll look forward to hearing about it when you’re all done.” His mom smoothed the front of her slacks. “Well, I must go. The girls are coming over for bridge.”

  “I hope you feel better,” Rena said.

  “You know, I feel much better suddenly,” she said. “It’s the best I’ve felt in ages.”

  Could she be more obvious? “See you tomorrow, Mom.”

  “Yes, darling. Virtual kisses, all.”

  After she left, he told Morgan to grab her warmest jacket and her gloves. He grabbed an extra pair of mittens and a knit hat from the bin above his hall closet. “Would you like these for tonight?” he asked.

  “Sure.”

  “Did you forget your gloves this morning?” He wanted to get to the bottom of this gloveless situation.

  “I gave mine to a homeless lady yesterday morning.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “I did.”

  “Rena, you need those gloves.”

  “Not as much as the lady I gave them to,” she said.

  Rena had the heart of a saint. No wonder he was half in love with her.

  A few minutes later, they were in his car headed to the lot near the docks where they’d gotten last year’s tree. Morgan insisted on Christmas music. She and Rena sang along loudly to every song. He just drove and smiled.

  When they reached the lot, Morgan went running off to find the “perfect” tree. He wasn’t the only procrastinator. The lot was busy. “Shall we?” He offered Rena his arm before he could stop himself.

  She took it, tucking her arm between his side and arm. She fit just right.

  He suspected it would turn awkward between them at any moment, but then it didn’t. They strolled compatibly, discussing the merits of various trees until Morgan yelled from the back row to “come see.” When they reached her, he looked at his daughter for hints of a smile. This couldn’t be the tree she meant. She must be joking. “You don’t mean this skinny one, do you?” he asked. Not only was it skinny, but the branches were uneven and sparse. It was ugly. A Charlie Brown tree if he’d ever seen one.

  Morgan nodded with great solemnity. “We have to take it. No one else will and it’ll have been cut down for no reason.”

  He glanced at Rena. God bless her. Rena nodded with equal gravity, as if the argument were not only valid, but just.

  “Well, if you girls are sure, let’s do it. Then we can go eat.” He waved the attendant over.

  “Wait, don’t we have to get Rena a tree?” Morgan asked.

  “I don’t want one. My apartments small and I don’t have any decorations.”

  “You don’t?” Morgan smile faded. “That’s awful.”

  “Well, technically I do, but they’re in storage.” Rena looked up at Ryan. “They were my mother’s things.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Morgan said. “Because you’re going to spend Christmas with us from now on.”

  He stared at his daughter. What in the world had gotten into her? From now on? This was the reason he never brought women home. He didn’t want her to get Morgan’s hopes up. But somehow, tonight, it didn’t matter to him. He heard his father’s voice inside his head. For once, just enjoy the night without worrying about how you’re scarring your child for life.

  After they had the tree on top of the car, Rena asked if she could take their photo. “Next to the car with the tree on top.”

  They stood in front of the car. He put his arm around Morgan’s slight shoulders. “I still can’t believe we have a Charlie Brown tree.”

  Morgan looked up at him, laughing, as he stared at the camera. The flash went off.

  “Perfect,” said Rena. “Now let’s get our beauty home.”

  “She’s talking about you, Morgan, not this tree.”

  “Daddy.” Peals of laughter rang out in the clear, cold night.

  Ten minutes later, they were headed home with the ugliest tree on the lot—possibly the ugliest tree in town. But if that’s what they wanted, that’s what they would have. The attendant must have agreed with Ryan. He’d slashed the price to ten dollars.

  * * * * *

  When they arrived home, Ryan ordered Thai takeout. While they waited for the food to arrive, he strung the lights around the tree. Not his most favorite job, but tonight he didn’t mind. Morgan and Rena sorted the ornaments. Tinsel sniffed them, tail wagging with furious holiday spirit. Christmas music played in the background. Morgan kept up a constant chatter throughout. This ornament they got on Lopez Island
at the ferry terminal; this one Aunt Rosie gave them as a gift; this one Morgan made in kindergarten and wasn’t she a goofy looking kid in the photograph? Poor Rena was no doubt bored out of her mind. If she was, she didn’t show it. She met every story with a question. How old was she when they went to Lopez, and which was Morgan’s favorite, and oh yes, the homemade one she made in kindergarten was lovely, especially her photograph.

  Between the chatter and food and decorating, the night flew by. After dinner, he opened a Washington cabernet and they each had a glass. Tinsel had a few doggie treats. Morgan was allowed a candy cane, which she insisted she share with Rena.

  “Red wine and candy canes together is my favorite,” Rena said. Her eyes reflected the tree’s lights.

  He had so much fun. More fun than he’d had in forever. That simple. He didn’t worry about work or obligations. He was present. Better late than never on his resolution from last year.

  Morgan had a good time too. She’d fallen for Rena as hard as he had.

  Close to ten, they once again piled into the car to take Rena home. Exhausted from all the excitement, Morgan fell asleep on the way, her cheek smashed against the window.

  “Thanks for including me,” Rena said.

  “I’m glad you were here.”

  “Even though it’s weird, right?”

  “You mean because we just met?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” she said.

  “Something’s happening here,” he said. “And yeah, it’s weird. Great weird.”

  “Maybe it’s the holiday magic. A little fairy dust moving things along too fast.”

  “Too fast?”

  “No. Just right,” she said.

  He grinned and reached across the console to take her hand. “Will you go out to dinner with me tomorrow? I’ll take you someplace special.”

  “I would like that.”

  He sensed hesitation. “But?”

  “I don’t think I have anything nice to wear.”

  “This is Seattle. Your cute body in those jeans you have on today will be just fine.”

  “Not really.”

  His heart softened like it did with her. She was too sweet to cause discomfort of any kind. “How about I take you someplace medium nice?”

  “That would be better. Thank you.”

  Her apartment was in an old brick building just north of downtown Ballard. He parked in a no parking zone close to the entrance and stuck the car in idle. “Wait. I’ll get your door,” he said.

  She rewarded him with her breathtaking smile when he opened her door. He stepped aside, and she slipped out of the car. They stood, looking at each other with foolish grins until she broke the silence. “Well, I should go. Thanks again. This was a great night for me.”

  “It was a good day.” He stuffed his hands in his pockets and gazed up at the sky. The bright stars scattered across the dark sky sparkled at him as if they wanted to encourage him. Be brave. Should he kiss her? Should he kiss the girl? He’d watched too many Disney movies with Morgan.

  “But it has to end.” She tweaked the collar of his jacket. That was enough. It was a sign.

  “May I kiss you goodnight?”

  She nodded, her gaze on his face. “I want you to, but I’m afraid.”

  “Of what?” He swept a wayward clump of hair from her cheek. His knuckles grazed her skin. A tingle traveled up his arm.

  “What if it’s terrible, after all this?”

  He traced her bottom lip with his thumb. “It won’t be.” He leaned close and breathed in her scent and brushed his lips against hers. For one terrible second, he thought she might not kiss him back. But then she pressed her lips against his. He ever so slightly flicked his tongue against the inside of her mouth. She shivered and pressed her chest against him. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer. She tasted sweet and perfect. Not like peach nectar but of red wine and candy cane. It was over too quickly.

  “Goodnight, Seven.”

  “’Night, Six.”

  He watched as she walked the twenty or so feet to the entrance of her building. From this distance, the dimly lit lobby reminded him of a cheap hotel up Highway 99 that smelled of mildew and lost dreams. This was not the place for Rena. She should live in a home as warm as her heart. An image of the two of them on the couch in his home, with the fireplace lit and the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree and red wine in their glasses, played before his eyes like a movie. Was it possible? Was Rena the woman he’d waited for? The woman Morgan needed? It was too soon to tell. He knew this. One day did not a lifetime make. But he could hope. He would, like he once had. He’d assumed that something amazing was about to happen. Today was proof that it could. Rena had happened to them today. For now, he would tuck that into his pocket and sleep tonight with expectations of great things to come.

  He waited while she opened the door with her key. Before she went all the way inside, she turned back and waved and tossed her beguiling smile across the distance between them. It made a direct path to his heart and spread warmth to every part of him. That was enough to sustain him until the morning.

  In a daze, he drove home and put Morgan into her bed. She didn’t wake when he slipped her shoes off and placed her under the covers. He tucked the quilt up to her chin and put an extra blanket on her. As he sometimes did, he perched on the side of her bed and watched her sleep. Her thick lashes splayed against her pink cheeks, and her breath moved the blankets up and down in a rhythm as old as time. She was his angel. His miracle. Nothing had prepared him for the utter capture of his heart. In an instant, he recalled the moment he’d first held her. She fit in the span of his two hands, tiny and helpless. She stared up at him with those round eyes like she knew him, like they’d loved one another for centuries. It’s you. Yes, I’m here. I’ve been waiting for you. His heart expanded until it was sore and swollen and so vulnerable that for the first time, he knew what it was to be terrified. Nothing would hurt her. He would die first. He held her close to his hammering heart and kissed her downy head and breathed in her baby scent and their souls intertwined into a tangle of love so deep and strong and complex that he could not remain merely a man. He was a father.

  Now, he kissed her forehead. “I love you, my angel.”

  “I love you too, Daddy.” She opened her eyes, still round and more beautiful than anything in this world. “Santa and Jesus brought her.” Her lids closed. Asleep again in an instant.

  Brought her? Did she mean Rena? Rosie told him Morgan thought Santa and Jesus were one in the same. This giant, old soul housed inside his little girl. His bundle of energy with her quick mind and generous personality. She’d made him into a better man.

  How long had it been since he’d said a prayer of thanks? Mostly he asked for guidance. But gratitude hadn’t come easily to him. A lot of nights he lay in bed feeling rather sorry for himself. That stops. Tonight. I have so much.

  Years ago, one of the pastors at church had told them—if your only prayer, every day, was “thank you,” it would be enough to please God.

  “Thank you, Lord,” he whispered.

  He turned off Morgan’s fairy lamp and went down the hall to his room. He undressed and brushed his teeth. Rena Burke. Stunning Seven. Her apartment was cold. He should have sent an extra blanket with her. Why hadn’t he thought of that? The peek into her life had rattled him. Which of his employees were living near the poverty level because of the cost of living in this city? Were there any that couldn’t sleep because of the cold?

  The minute he got back into the office after this jury duty was finished, he would meet with his human resources director and have her walk him through everyone’s salaries. No employee of his would be too poor to buy a decent jacket or heat their apartment. Not with the amount of money his family made as owners. They would take a pay cut and give more of a chunk to the employees. There was room, especially given the huge accounts they’d brought in that year. This year he was giving bigger holiday bonuses, too. He smil
ed. Don’t worry, Dad, I’ll still give out the turkeys.

  He slipped into bed and fired up his laptop. First, he sent an email to his HR director asking for a meeting and a spreadsheet of salaries, along with recommendations for increasing end of the year bonuses. Next, he logged onto Nordstrom and searched “little black dresses.” Fifty or so came up. Fifty? How many variations on a black dress could there be? He needed Rosie to help him. A quick glance at the time told him it was only ten. She was probably up, working in her hotel room in San Francisco. He texted her.

  YOU UP?

  A second later, a text came through from his sister.

  Yes. Stop yelling.

  Sorry. Caps were on. LOL

  Only old people say lol.

  He paused. Should he tell her? They shared everything. She would think he was getting way ahead of himself, but she would understand at the same time.

  I met someone.

  WHAT????

  Yeah. I’m excited for the first time in forever.

  Wow. I’m shocked.

  He smiled into the phone as he typed.

  I’m taking her out tomorrow and I want to send her a dress like rich guys do in movies. She told me we couldn’t go to a nice restaurant because she didn’t have a nice dress.

  Okaaay…and we’re sure this isn’t creepy? Would she interpret it as controlling?

  She won’t take it that way.

  Most women these days like to buy their own dresses.

  Can you just trust me on this?

  Was she right? It always worked for guys in the movies.

  No. I cannot. You’re out of your mind. Do not send dress. I repeat, do not send dress. You know I’m always right about this kind of stuff. She’ll take it as an insult, not a gift.

  Fine.

  Don’t pout.

  He laughed.

  I’m not. It’s just she’s so flipping adorable and she looked so sad when she admitted to me about the dress that it made me want to fix it.

  That’s what men do. Give it a little time. Later, when you’re in love and she trusts you—that’s a better time to send a sweet gift.