Miracle Under The Mistletoe (The Foster Brothers #1)

by Tracy Madison

  “Not hiding.” He kicked her front right tire. “Your treads are worn.” They weren’t, but she was unlikely to know the difference. “Bring the car in tomorrow, and I’ll replace the tires.”

  Tipping her head to the side, she gave her car a slow once-over. “You’ll have to come up with a better cover, Grady. The tires are fine. I just had them put on two weeks ago.” She leaned her hip against the side of the car and batted her eyelashes. A little move that drove him ten ways of crazy every time she did it. “So, what are you really up to?”

  Flat-out ignoring her question, he knelt down and pretended to inspect the tire. She crouched next to him, so close that the scent of her shampoo hit him in the gut. Coconut? Since when? For as long as he’d known her, she’d always used lilac-scented shampoo. The change bothered him, though he couldn’t say why. “Who did it?” he asked.

  “The tire place on Canyon Road. Why?” Doubt rang crystal-clear in her voice. “Are you seriously telling me they ripped me off?”

  Giving up the pretense, he stood and shook his head. “No. You’re right. The tires are fine.”

  “I see. So were you hiding or eavesdropping?” Raising herself to a stand, she fished her car keys out of her purse. “Or both? And why?”

  “I was surprised to see you here. You haven’t exactly made yourself accessible to the rest of my family. Can’t blame me for wondering what you were up to.”

  She stared at him, her chin set and her mouth firm. He yearned to touch her cheek, to rub his thumb along the bottom edge of her lips, to do something—anything—to soften her expression. To make her look at him the way she used to.

  “I wanted to see Karen.” Her voice hitched, just a little, and that tiny, breathy break nearly did him in. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Right.” The Grady she was accustomed to would accept that answer. Hell, he was proud she’d come here, knowing how difficult that decision must have been. But the old Grady had gotten nowhere with the new Olivia. So he dug deep, looking for the inner strength to play the game he’d started. “You expect me to believe that after all of this time, you suddenly want to see my parents? Come on, Olivia, spin me another story. What were you doing? Quizzing my mom in the hopes of finding some nugget of information to use against me, so I’ll forget about the deal we made? Sorry, but that isn’t going to happen.”

  Anger and shock filtered over her. She stepped backward, as if recoiled by his tone. By his words. He hated himself for that, but hell—it was better than ice. “Who are you?”

  “I’m your husband.”

  “Yes,” she agreed, “But you’re not the same man I married. Why are you pushing me so hard?”

  “Because sitting back and letting you call the shots has only made our situation worse.”

  “And you think this will magically fix everything?”

  “You’re talking now, aren’t you? You’re here, and not hiding out at home.” Forcing a chuckle he didn’t feel, he said, “So yeah, Olly, I think this is a huge improvement.”

  Every part of her stilled as she appraised him. She tipped her head back, inhaled a breath and blinked once. Twice. He waited for her cool, indifferent mask to slip into place. The proof that she was right—that nothing he did would change anything. The proof that this stupid game he’d started was doomed for failure. Just like everything else he’d tried.

  But her face remained flushed, her eyes bright. A visible tremble whisked through her body. Frustration that she couldn’t hide her emotions, he guessed. He’d gotten to her. On some level, anyway. And that, right or wrong, pleased him to no end.

  “Stay,” he said, his resolve newly strengthened.

  “For dinner?” Her lips curved into a smile. A luscious, begging-to-be-kissed type of smile. His gaze fixated on her lips, and just that quick, he lost the ability to rationalize. To think. Hell, to do anything but stare.

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  In what seemed to be slow motion, she approached him. She fluttered her fingers into his hair, her touch sending him swirling into their past. Long, lazy mornings in bed. Dancing in the moonlight on their honeymoon. A million moments of love and laughter, of promise and passion, ripped through him. And God help him, he couldn’t resist those memories. One tug and his lips were on hers. She was so soft. Sweet. Sexy. His. Just as much as he was hers.

  If only she could see that.

  He pulled her tight to his chest and deepened the kiss, savoring her scent, her taste, the pure rightness of holding her. She ran her hands down his back until they settled on his hips. A moanlike sigh escaped from her throat, and his groin tightened in reflex. In want and in need. In love.

  “Stay,” he whispered. “Or leave. With me. Whatever you want.”

  Moving her hands to his chest, she pushed to separate them. She looked up into his eyes. “Sure,” she said calmly, if a bit breathlessly. “Dinner with the family sounds like an ideal first date.”

  He dropped his hold on her and retreated, giving each of them space—though he likely needed it more than she. “Nice try,” he said, going for light and easy. “I particularly enjoyed the kiss, but darlin’ as much as I appreciate your effort, our first date is already set. Saturday. I’ll pick you up at two.”

  She blinked again. The pink in her cheeks turned a blazing red, but she held her ground. Good for her. “Awesome. Sounds great.” Rounding the car, she opened the driver’s side door. “Should I wear my bikini, Grady? Would you prefer the purple or the orange?”

  He bit back a grin at her sarcastic tone. “Either works for me. I recommend warmer attire, though. We’ll be spending the majority of the day outside.”

  She tossed her hair over her shoulder with the perfected flip only women are capable of. “Can’t wait,” she said as she climbed into the car. The engine roared to life, and with a little wave, she was gone.

  He stared after her for a minute, maybe two, wondering if what had just occurred could be counted as a positive sign or a negative one. The coldness that had surrounded his wife for the past few years seemed to have evaporated. Definitely a positive, there. And that kiss—hell, no way could he describe that kiss as anything less than amazing.

  Rubbing his hands together against the chilly air, he headed for the house. He couldn’t wait to see what changes Saturday would bring to Olivia. To them. And if a little voice in his head cautioned him about the coming days, he chose to ignore it. Mostly, anyway.

  Very purposely, he whistled as he took the front porch stairs two at a time. Her coming here was good, no matter what her intentions were. It was a change from her previous behavior.

  He reached for the doorknob, but stopped. A clamp squeezed his heart so hard, he couldn’t breathe. The familiar weight crashed onto his shoulders. He grazed the glass window with his fingers, his attention captured by the bright orange-and-brown cardboard turkey.

  Why is he wearing a pilgrim hat, Mommy? Turkeys can’t wear hats.

  “Because he’s only a pretend turkey, and pretend turkeys can wear anything they like,” Grady whispered, echoing his wife’s response from that so-long-ago morning.

  Cody had taken that answer as gospel. He’d laughed and darted into the house, looking for his uncles. Jace and Seth had promised to show him a few karate moves, and Cody was not about to let them forget.

  Olivia and Grady had kissed. Right here, where Grady now stood. “Let’s have a baby,” she’d said, her eyes alight with happiness. “A brother or a sister for Cody.”

  Emotion welled in Grady’s throat, hot and fierce. That Thanksgiving had been one of those rare, perfect days you couldn’t plan for, couldn’t predict.

  But damn if he wouldn’t do anything in his power to try.

  Chapter Five

  Olivia stole a glance at her husband and sighed. Grady had arrived at precisely two o’clock, and the nerves swirling in her stomach increased tenfold the second she’d opened the door. Being this nervous was ridiculous, but he looked so good. Dressed in standard
blue jeans, a thick flannel shirt and the leather jacket she’d bought him years earlier, he shouldn’t have looked any better than any man, anywhere.

  But he did. He was Grady. And now, fifteen minutes of driving later, she’d be willing to swear thousands of butterflies were zipping around inside of her. Why oh, why couldn’t she have married a less handsome man? While she was at it, she wished he was less tenacious, less intelligent and less charming. Oh, and if he could please have a normal, everyday-sounding voice—one that didn’t un-hinge everything inside of her—that would be helpful.

  Of course, these attributes were only a small part of the reason she’d fallen for him to begin with. Add in his honorable nature, his sense of humor and his unwavering commitment to anything and everyone he cared about, and she was a goner before she’d even realized it.

  Simply speaking, she had never met a better man. A man who deserved far more than she was able to give.

  “Why so quiet, Olly?” Grady asked as he stopped at a streetlight, his tenor seeping into her like bubbly water. Not just any water, either. But some type of expensive, sparkling water that originated in a faraway place only inhabited by mystical, magical creatures. “I figured you’d be laying down the rules for the day by now.”

  “I thought you were calling the shots. Isn’t that what you said?”

  “It is, and I am. But since when did that stop you?”

  “Never.” Another sigh begged to be released, but she squelched it and faced the window to stare at moving pavement. The only rule she had was to keep any discussion of their son off the table, but she figured Grady wouldn’t agree to that. So why bother? “Nope. No rules.”

  “I’m surprised.” He reached over to squeeze her hand. “But I’m glad to hear it.”

  She tugged out of his grasp and turned on the radio. Christmas music blared from the speakers, loud and cheery. She flipped it off immediately. “It isn’t even Thanksgiving yet,” she said, as a way to explain her behavior. “Way too soon for ‘Jingle Bells.’”

  “That wasn’t ‘Jingle Bells,’” Grady said. “I believe that was—”

  “Doesn’t matter.” The song was “Frosty the Snowman.” Cody’s favorite. “Still too soon.”

  Thankfully, he didn’t argue with her or try to engage her in further conversation. She hated this time of year. Christmas songs, Christmas movies, Christmas lights, Christmas food and Christmas decorations. Christmas, Christmas, Christmas. She wanted to go to sleep and wake up in mid-January, when the world returned to normal.

  They drove for another ten minutes before Grady slowed the truck and pulled off to the side. He switched off the ignition and tucked his keys into his front pocket. “It’s a beautiful day, isn’t it?”

  Olivia took in her surroundings before narrowing her eyes at Grady. Yep, Samantha was right. He had most definitely lost his mind. “It’s cold, gray and windy.”

  “That it is,” he said with an infuriatingly cheerful smile. “But I’m with you, and that makes any day beautiful.”

  Telltale heat infused her cheeks. Great. She was likely as red as a fire engine. “Um. Well. That’s nice of you to say.”

  “It’s the truth.” He opened his door. “I have a few things in the back I could use your help with.”

  A heavy dose of confusion replaced her anxiety. “Our date is here?” He nodded in response. She strove for calmness. “Grady, it’s really cold and windy.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”

  “I didn’t mean… I don’t need you to—” He exited the vehicle before she could finish. Okay, then. She followed suit and met him at the rear of the truck. “It’s the middle of November,” she pointed out. Any reasonable person would understand what she was getting at.

  “Yep. You’re right on that, too.” Apparently, Grady had lost his sense of reason along with his marbles. He grabbed a large, zippered bag from the bed of the pickup and held it in front of her. “This is lighter than it looks. Mind carrying it?”

  “Pretty sure I can manage.” She accepted the bag and hefted it over her shoulder, all the while trying to stare him down. He, naturally, appeared oblivious. “What exactly are we doing here, Grady? Have you planned a picnic or something?”

  “Or something.” He lifted a medium-size cooler with one hand, and then another large bag with the other. “Ready?”

  “For?” Again, he took off without answering. Damn him. She chased after him, the cold wind strong enough that she had to push against it. When she finally caught up, she said, “What are we doing at a park in mid-November on a cold, blustery, cloud-filled day? You know, they said it might snow later.”

  “Nah. It’s not quite cold enough for snow. Might get some rain, though.” He stopped and glanced at her. “I told you to dress warm.”

  “And I listened, but I didn’t bring an umbrella.”

  “Quit complaining. You forget how well I know you. A little cold rain never stopped you before. Remember that camping trip in Washington we took the year before we were married?” He winked and tossed her the smile that melted her bones. “You didn’t seem to mind the rain or the wind then.”

  How could she possibly forget that trip? They’d huddled together in a tent to stay warm. Well, they did a lot of other things to stay warm, too. She shook her head and tried to focus. Better not to think about those days. “That was different. I have no idea what we’re doing here.”

  “I told you. We’re having our first date. That’s all you need to know until you know more.” Another wink and he started walking again. At a slower pace, thank goodness. “I promise you’ll enjoy yourself, Olivia. If you’ll relax and let me take control…even if only for the next several hours.”

  His tone wasn’t flippant or condescending. She didn’t hear anything but hope and quiet resolve. In a way she didn’t comprehend, that alone softened her resolve. That morning, in an effort to quiet her whipped-up nerves, she’d promised herself—again—that nothing Grady could do or say would alter her decision. And she believed that. Her plan had been to push against every obstacle he put in front of her, but maybe that was the wrong way to go. Maybe she could use these dates to show him they couldn’t create a new future with the pain of their past.

  Turning the tables so she came out ahead. She liked that idea, if for no other reason than it gave her an objective, rather than fretting over his. And her chance at success would be a heck of a lot better if she softened her defenses. Go along for the ride, so to speak. Giving it her best shot, she said, “You win. I’ll do this your way.”

  This surprised him enough that he paused for a heartbeat to glance in her direction. “I’ll hold you to that.”

  They continued walking for a few more minutes before she realized where they were headed. Oh, dear God. This wasn’t only the first date of the four she’d agreed to, her demented husband was re-creating their very first date. A bubble of apprehension tightened in her chest. This wasn’t ideal.

  “A baseball game?” she asked as they got closer to the ballpark. “Are you serious? In November?”

  “I believe we’ve already established that the month is, indeed, November. And yes, a baseball game.”

  “How in the hell did you find a team that was playing this time of year?”

  “I have my ways.” He tipped his head toward the bleachers. “Come on, let’s find a seat.”

  “Right, because there are so many people here.” Like four others, maybe. “We better hurry.” He didn’t dignify her sarcasm with a reply, so she followed. Why did his choice of a baseball game bother her so much? Probably because it was wholly unexpected. She’d anticipated Grady to woo her with romance, but this—a trip down memory lane that didn’t involve their son? “You’re crazy,” she murmured. “And we’ll freeze.”

  “I might be a little crazy,” he agreed. “But you don’t have to worry about freezing.”

  He led her to a seat and deposited the cooler and the bag he carried before reaching for hers. “I brought bla
nkets, hot chocolate, and—” he unzipped one of the bags and pulled out two nylon bags “—these.” With finesse, he removed a rolled-up seat cushion that had a battery of some sort attached. He fiddled with it for a second before placing the thin cushion on the bleacher seat. “For you, milady,” he said with a gallant bow.

  She squinted at the seat and then back at him. “Heated seat cushions?”

  “It is November, Olly.” His lips twitched in mirth. “Kind of cold for a baseball game.”

  “Exactly what I’ve been saying,” she mumbled. “So…uh…how long will these stay warm?”

  “Long enough.”

  She sat down, determined to do whatever it took to get through the day. “Did you say you brought cocoa?” she asked in as cheery a manner as possible.

  “I did. Two thermoses full, even.”

  In less than five minutes, she was as snug as a bug in a rug. She shouldn’t have been surprised at how well Grady had thought everything through. But somehow, she was. He’d left nothing to do with their comfort to chance. She had a thick, thermal blanket wrapped around her shoulders, a cup of hot chocolate in her hands and her bum wasn’t cold in the least.

  Taking a small sip of her beverage, she looked out toward the ball field. The players were teenage boys, and the only way to tell the teams apart was by their baseball caps. One team had green bills and the other black. “How did you set this up?”

  “No questions, Olly. Remember, you’re doing this my way.”

  “Right.” She huffed out a breath and tried, oh, how she tried, to relax.

  “You don’t have to talk to me. You don’t even have to look at me if you don’t want.” He swore under his breath. “If it will make you feel better, you can pretend you’re here all by your lonesome. I’m just some stranger who chose to sit next to you.”

  She laughed. She couldn’t help it. “Seriously?” Because she had a difficult time believing that Grady had gone to such extents without expecting something from her. “I don’t have to do anything but sit here?”