Mistletoe Maverick

by Shannon Curtis

  “Sorry, duty calls.” He took a last swig of coffee before walking over to put the mug on the draining panel of the sink. He heard her move behind him, and he turned to find her putting some cookies into a small, clear, zip-lock bag.

  “Have dinner with me,” he said.

  Her eyes widened, and her movements halted. “Uh …”

  He stepped closer to her, placing a hand on the counter next to her hip. “Have dinner with me.”

  For a moment something sparked in her eyes, something warm and lively, then she shook her head. “I can’t,” she answered, looking down at the bag of cookies in her hands.

  “If you’re stuck for a babysitter, I can come here, we can eat in.” Hell, he didn’t care where, or how, as long as he had the opportunity.

  She shook her head. “No, I—I’m sorry, I can’t.” Her lips lifted, fell, and then she forced a smile. “But thank you, Sheriff.”

  He shook his head as he stepped closer. She was so polite, so distant, and he couldn’t stand it when compared to her raw honesty of a moment ago. “Don’t,” he murmured as he crowded her back against the kitchen counter.

  She swallowed. “Don’t what?” her voice lowered to almost a whisper, and he ducked his head to meet the gaze she was trying to hide from him.

  “Don’t push me away. I want to get to know you.” He stepped even closer. He knew he was backing her up against the counter, that he was backing her into a corner, and he didn’t care. For three months he’d tried to get past her cool, impersonal smiles, her polite pleasantries. Sure, it had been necessary to speak to her on some occasions about Aiden, but now he wanted to know more about her. For a moment, he thought she was relaxing her polite mantle, just a little. He wanted to keep that defrosting going.

  She took a deep breath, then raised her turbulent gray gaze to level with his. “Really, I am flattered.” She smiled sadly. “It’s not every day a girl is offered a date with the most eligible guy in three counties and, honestly, if it was just me, I’d say yes—but,” she said quickly, holding up a finger as satisfaction curled inside him. “But it’s not just me. I have two children I need to think about, now. Aiden and Katie have experienced so much upheaval. I’m not about to introduce them to more by parading a string of men through their lives. They need some stability, and it’s my job to give it to them.” She tilted her head, and scrunched up her nose in an adorable way that made him want to kiss her. “I know, it’s just a date to you, but we’ll go out, I’ll think you’re great, I’ll want to see more of you, it will be fun, for a little while, the kids will get attached, and then you’ll get tired of playing daddy to kids not your own, I’ll want more, you’ll feel guilty and wish for no strings—and lordy, I come with strings, and we’ll argue, things will turn sour, you’ll want a woman who can give you all of her attention, and the kids and I will be devastated. So believe me when I say it’s better this way.”

  He blinked. “Wow.”

  She’d given it some thought, at least. She’d thought about him. And her. Together. He frowned. Although he’d come off sounding a little like some shallow philanderer out for an easy lay. He knew he had a reputation—he deserved most of it—but her description … He hadn’t so much as thought of another woman since that first moment he’d seen her, standing in the queue at the post office, the sun picking out the golden highlights in her brown hair, the late summer breeze flattening her blouse against her body, and a smile teasing her lips as she’d gazed down at the girl and boy next to her, her hands resting protectively on their shoulders. And what the hell was that all about her parading a whole bunch of guys through this house?

  She gazed up at him in sad acceptance. “It is what it is.” She shrugged.

  His radio squawked again, and he pulled it out of the holster and answered the call. “I’ll be there soon, Maxine,” he finished saying to his despatcher, not taking his eyes off the woman in front of him. He slid the radio unit back onto his belt.

  She smiled and held up the bag. “Cookies for the road, Sheriff.”

  He dipped his head, his stare intent as he looked into her eyes. Her scent teased him, something warm and spicy, delicately laced with the cinnamon she’d been baking with, a sultry scent that loosened the tension in his shoulders, and elsewhere. He wasn’t quite touching her, but they were so close he could feel the heat of her body, and he saw the gray her eyes darken with something warm and smoky. Desire—for him. Awareness entered her expression—of him, and her reaction to him. He heard the breath hitch in her throat, and she shifted slightly.

  Forward.

  Chapter Two

  “Jackson,” he said, their lips almost touching. No more of this sheriff business. He was making this personal, damn it. He could feel her breath against his lips, and it was as though she’d reached down and caressed him. He waited, silent yet demanding.

  “Jac—Jackson,” she rasped finally, then swallowed.

  He stared at her for a moment, then raised his hand to accept the doggy bag of cookies, their fingers touching briefly before he stepped away. He strode back down the hallway, placing his hat on his head as he let himself out. He closed the door and paused. She’d said no. He gazed out over her yard. The temperature had dropped, and the snow was falling heavier. He couldn’t even see her closest neighbor.

  She’d thought everything out, had every detail mapped out in that quirky, golden head of hers, yet she’d gotten a couple of small details wrong. She thought one date with him would open the floodgates, and she’d be trooping a whole string of guys in front of the kids. That image didn’t sit easily with him. That surprised him. He’d be the last guy to preach to anyone about exclusivity. Stephanie had been right in that regard; he’d successfully avoided an exclusive relationship for any significant time. Yet he felt possessive—yeah, possessive, which was new for him. He tried to be fair but, damn it, he wanted to be the only guy parading through her house.

  He turned his collar up and strode across her front yard to his cruiser, snow crunching underfoot. But Stephanie was different. He frowned as he slid in behind the steering wheel.

  He wasn’t just after a date, or some fun times—although he sensed they could have some seriously fun times. No, he wanted more than that. He wanted a relationship. She was a good, decent woman. She’d taken on the care of her dead friend’s children, although he was pretty sure she could have relinquished them to the foster care system. She hadn’t. She’d put the kids first, she’d uprooted her life, and was trying to make a go of it. He’d thought long and hard about Aiden and Katie before asking her out—any sane, decent guy would, and his Mama had raised all four of her boys to be fair, decent-minded men. He could respect her desire for stability and security for the kids. Hell, he kind of admired her for it. Yet he wanted to help her with that stability, that security.

  He turned the key in the ignition, and the engine roared to life.

  Stephanie had said no.

  But she’d wanted to say yes. He’d seen it in her eyes, sensed it in the way her body had leaned in toward him. He grinned. He could work with that.

  * * *

  “You are not my mother. I hate you, I hate this place,” Aiden yelled, slamming the door.

  Stephanie flinched as she stood in the upstairs hall. They were separated by a mere door, but it may as well have been an ocean of hurt and despair. “Look Aiden, I know how you—”

  “No, you don’t,” he exclaimed, his voice slightly muffled. “Your parents didn’t die; you didn’t have to leave all your friends. You’ve ruined my life!”

  Aiden was wrong. Her father had died just a couple of years ago, and her mother had remarried to a man Stephanie couldn’t stand, no matter how hard she tried. She rarely spoke with her mother and stepfather. Right now, though, she would have loved to call her mother for advice, but too many things had been said, there was too much toxic water under that broken bridge.

  She rested her forehead against the timber of the door, and blinked back tears. Tears fo
r the hurt and angry little boy on the other side, tears of guilt that perhaps he was right, maybe she had ruined his life. Tears for her own fears, suddenly responsible for the physical and emotional wellbeing of two children. She was woefully inadequate for this mommy gig. He’d been polite enough when they’d visited Mrs. Turner, but had been so angry afterwards, particularly when she’d worked out his chore chart with the older woman. Dinner had been awful, and now—well, now it was 3-2-1 meltdown.

  “I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said softly, sincerely. “I know you’re angry, and to tell you the truth, I’m a little upset, too. I thought we had an agreement. The slingshot was only for the backyard—yet you disobeyed me, Aiden.” As he’d done almost constantly since their arrival in Patience. This time, though, there had been property damage, and poor Mrs. Turner had been quite shocked. “What if you’d hurt Mrs. Turner? What if she’d walked past the window?” She shuddered. “Your punishment stands. You’ll work off the cost of that new window, and you’re grounded.”

  Which totally sucked for the rest of them, with all the Christmas activities going on in town. Fortunately, she’d been able to organize for Katie to go in for the Christmas Carol Sing-a-long with one of her new friends from school while she stayed at home with her very petulant boy. She had no idea whether she was doing the right thing or not, whether this would have a long-term positive impact, or—as Aiden suggested—that she’d ruined his life forever. She sighed. “When you’re feeling calmer and ready to talk, I’m ready to listen.” Because that was about as much good as she was at the moment, a pair of ears attached to a mind that had no idea on how to cope with kids, and how to make Aiden happier, calmer, and please God, less destructive.

  A car pulled up in the drive. Katie was home. She looked once more with regret at the door, then trotted down to greet her other young ward.

  Eight-year-old Katie beamed as she climbed the steps, and Steph waved to the dark figures in the car. The snow was falling quite heavily, and she could understand their reluctance to leave the warmth of the vehicle. The family waved as they reversed out of the drive, and she bundled Katie inside hurriedly, feeling the razor-sharp bite of the wind through her long-sleeved T-shirt. She’d learned snow wasn’t such a common occurrence in Texas. Growing up in San Francisco, she’d never seen a white Christmas, but apparently this year she was in for a treat. If freezing snow and icy roads could be considered a treat.

  “Oh, Stephie, it was so much fun,” breathed Katie as she shrugged out of her coat. Steph helped her step out of her boots and placed them on the drying rack just inside the door.

  “Really? Tell me all about it while we get you ready for bed,” she said, smiling at the young girl.

  Katie chattered all the way through brushing her hair, brushing her teeth, slipping into her warm, fuzzy pajamas with the attached padding on the feet. Steph smiled. She looked like a snuggly piglet in her fleecy pink onesie suit.

  “And then we had hot chocolate and roasted …” Katie frowned as she climbed into bed. “Roasted …”

  “Chestnuts?” Steph suggested, and Katie nodded, grinning.

  “Yeah, those. I’ve never had those before. I like them. Can we make roasted chestnuts here?”

  Steph tilted her head to the side as she thought about it. “Uh, I guess we could try.”

  “Don’t worry, we can have a bucket of water with us,” Katie suggested, and Steph laughed. While she enjoyed baking, her cooking skills were limited. So far she’d burnt toast every morning this week, and was now a dab hand at resetting the smoke alarm.

  “I’ll see what we can do. I might have to look up a recipe.” And perhaps a YouTube tutorial. If she’d thought of online cooking instructions beforehand, perhaps the Thanksgiving turkey could have been salvaged.

  Katie bit her lip, and looked up at her through her lashes. “Can we make gingerbread men?” she asked softly.

  Steph smiled. “I think we can manage those.”

  “Mommy used to make them every Christmas,” the little girl whispered, her eyes welling with tears.

  Steph blinked her own tears back. She hadn’t considered the annual traditions the kids were now missing out on. Merriam had moved to Riverside with Matt, her husband, just before she’d had the children. With a six-and-a-half-hour drive from her home to visit her best friend, she and Merriam had made do with loads of phone calls, and had managed to visit maybe three or four times a year, but never at Christmas time. Steph had never wanted to intrude on that special holiday for them.

  Now, though, she had children who barely knew her, and who would be missing their mother so desperately at this time of year. Steph smiled and nodded. “We’ll bake gingerbread men tomorrow.” And maybe she could pry out of them some more ideas for Christmas traditions.

  Katie snuggled back on her pillow, her face sad. “I miss Mommy,” she whispered, and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  Warmth coiled with sadness, and this time Steph couldn’t help the tear that slid down her own cheek. She nodded. “I do, too, pumpkin. She was a very special lady.”

  “Is Aiden in lots of trouble?”

  Surprised by the change in topic, Steph took a moment to disengage from the memories of her best friend to focus on her best friend’s children. She took a deep breath. “He’ll be fine, Katie.” As soon as she figured out how to handle him. Hopefully before he ended up a juvenile delinquent.

  The little girl’s lower lip trembled. “Is he going away to jail?” she asked in a whisper. “I don’t want him to go away, too.” More tears welled in her eyes, and Steph immediately reached for her, pulling her into a gentle hug.

  “Oh, hey, kiddo. Aiden’s not going anywhere. We’re all going to stick together,” she said, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. “Don’t you ever forget that I love you both very, very much, and nobody is leaving, okay?”

  The little girl nodded, and Steph lowered her back on to the bed, tucking the blankets in around her.

  “Now, go to sleep and dream of dancing gingerbread men, pumpkin.”

  Katie smiled through her tears, then rolled over to close her eyes. “I love you, Stephie.”

  Steph smoothed the dark hair off the little girl’s forehead. “I love you, too.”

  She left the room, closing the door behind her, and walked down the long empty hallway until she could close her own bedroom door quietly behind her. She leaned against the timber for a moment, then winced as the slingshot dug into the small of her back. She removed it from her back pocket and tossed it onto her nightstand. She stood there, glancing into her quiet, dark bedroom, and the tears fell. She slid down to sit on the floor and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  She wasn’t a mommy. She sucked at being a responsible adult. She, who couldn’t even keep a potted geranium alive, who couldn’t make toast without burning it—she was now in charge of two children who needed someone who understood them, who could help them mourn the loss of their mother, who could guide them, support them as they coped with all the changes they were experiencing.

  What had Merriam been thinking? Stephanie couldn’t look after kids. Merriam had been Super Mom. She’d raised these kids almost single-handedly, she’d managed to cook, clean house, and nurture those two little darlings so that they were happy, healthy, well-mannered kids who enjoyed life. Now Stephanie was looking after them, and already Aiden had become more familiar with the inside of the sheriff’s office than his classroom, and Katie cried herself to sleep at night.

  Merriam would roll over in her grave if she saw just how dismally her friend was failing her and her children. Steph’s shoulders shook, and she bowed her head onto her arms. She was letting her friend down, and she was letting these precious children down. She had no idea what she was doing, and had nobody she could talk to about it. For a brief moment, Jackson King’s face flashed through her mind, his easy-going smile, the sexy, mischievous light in his hazel–green eyes, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t be fantasizing about the sheri
ff. These kids needed her full attention, they needed to feel safe, secure and loved.

  She took a deep, calming breath, then rose to her feet. That was enough self-pitying for now. She could bitch and moan about her plight, but her issues paled in comparison to what Aiden and Katie were going through. She brushed her hands over her face, then sauntered over to collapse on her bed. She was so tired, so exhausted. She rolled onto her back and stared up at the ceiling. Tomorrow was a brand new day. She closed her eyes, repeating the little mantra she always said to herself.

  Tomorrow would be better, she thought, over and over, as she slowly drifted off to sleep.

  * * *

  Steph’s eyes flicked open, and she froze, heart pounding. What was that? She lay there for a moment, barely breathing. There. A thud. A squeak.

  Someone was downstairs.

  Chapter Three

  Steph padded on silent bare feet to her door, and cracked it open. Maybe it was one of the kids. Aiden hadn’t eaten much at dinner, and if anyone was going to creep around the house at night, it would probably be him.

  She tiptoed out to the head of the stairs and peered over the bannister, listening. It was a few moments before she heard another quiet thud, and the hair on her arms rose. A beam of light flashed for a moment across the downstairs foyer, and she pulled back, heart pounding.

  That wasn’t Aiden down there. Someone was in the house. She glanced wildly about her. The kids. She had to get the kids. She had to call for help. The phone was back in her bedroom, but the kids were down the hall.

  Stepping so that her back was pressed against the wall opposite the stairwell, she hastily sidestepped toward Aiden’s room. With her back to the door, her eyes on the top of the stairs, and her heart thumping so hard she thought whoever was creeping around downstairs could hear it, she slowly turned the doorknob.