Blame It on the Mistletoe

by Nicole Michaels

  “Fuck you, man,” Alex said under his breath as he walked over to the couch and started pulling on his shirt. Brooke felt her heart splintering as the scene unfolded. She’d expected things to end, but not like this. Not at all like this.

  “Don’t even try to deny it,” Ryan went on. “I was your best friend. I was a witness to everything. Shit, I was right along for the ride.”

  “You’re damn right you were, but for some reason your sorry ass is worthy of being in her presence but mine isn’t? Your teenage fuck-ups are forgiven but mine aren’t? You know what, just forget it. The only part of what you just said that applies to us now was that you were my best friend. You have no clue who I am now.” Alex sat down and began pulling on socks and shoes.

  “Both of you, shut up!” Brooke yelled. This wasn’t about them. “You’re both assholes, you know that? The two of you don’t get to make decisions for me. I’m not an idiot, I’m fully capable of being a grown-up all by myself. And right now Ryan, I want you to leave.”

  “Brooke, I’m sorry—”

  “No, I want you to go. Don’t say anything else.”

  Ryan stood there for a moment, she would not back down.

  With a muttered curse he strode over to the door and his boots clomped down the stairs. The back door banged shut behind him. Brooke and Alex were quiet. She wasn’t even sure which emotion was winning inside: Anger? Sadness? Hurt? She was so overwhelmed, she could feel the weight. When she looked at the couch, she found Alex staring at her. He’d dressed completely and was preparing to go.

  “How did he get in here?” she asked.

  “First your phone rang a couple times, then he started pounding on the door downstairs. The minute I let him in he ran up here like I might have”—he looked down, shame and embarrassment on his face. He had been about to say something, something about why Ryan had been worried for her. And he’d promised to stay away because Ryan had spoken to him.

  He knew.

  “He told you, didn’t he?”

  He didn’t respond for a moment, but finally nodded.

  “When?”

  “That first night, when I scared you downstairs. He caught up with me after I left.”

  “Is that why you stood me up at the bar?”

  Alex dropped his head into his hands. “I’m so damn sorry, Brooke.”

  Her shoulders fell, and she let out a breath. She wanted to cry, needed to cry, but it was not going to happen in front of Alex Coleman. “Maybe you should leave too.”

  His head shot up and his eyes looked as sad as she felt. “Brooke, come on, let’s talk about this.”

  “There’s nothing to talk about. We’re not a couple, this wasn’t going anywhere.”

  “No, we’re not a couple, but saying this wasn’t going anywhere is bullshit. At the very least I’m taking you to the damn Mistletoe Ball.”

  “Oh, please, don’t do me any favors. I’m a big girl, Alex. I don’t need any more protectors or … babysitters. Ryan told you, I’m a mess, so get away from me while you can.”

  “That’s a bunch of shit, Brooke. Did I act like a babysitter last night?”

  “No, but you sure as hell didn’t fuck me either.”

  He flinched at her words. Brooke Abbott didn’t talk like that, and it had felt as ugly as it sounded coming out of her mouth.

  “Is that why? Were you trying to go slow with me because I’m damaged? Oh god, please tell me that’s not why.”

  “No. Shit, I just …” He stood and began pacing. “I wanted to, but I also wanted to do the right thing. Take things slow.”

  Brooke’s insides wilted at his reaction. He may not have consciously been babying her, but it was there, in the back of his mind. She was a wounded girl, and her brother had told Alex to be careful with her. She almost couldn’t even blame him. He was a man. A good man.

  “I should’ve left, not come in to the store Tuesday, but damn Brooke. I’m crazy attracted to you, okay? Let’s be clear, there is nothing brotherly or careful about the things I want to do to you. Does that make you feel better?”

  “Yes! It does make me feel better, because although I had a boyfriend that treated me like shit, I still want someone to feel passionate about me. I want someone to want me so bad they feel uncontrollable. I want to know that a man can pin me down and have his way with me and it’s safe and pleasurable. Is that too much to ask?”

  Alex stood by the window, his chest heaving in and out. She needed him to respond, needed something. If he was going to go, then he needed to get the hell out. Now. She opened her mouth to tell him that just as he began stalking toward her.

  Instinctually her body tensed, ready for him to grab her. Her heart was telling her that would never happen—this was Alex—but her body had become so well trained to prepare itself for anything, and she was ready. When he came close and held out his hand to grab her arm, she flinched and jerked it back. It was a small movement, but he hadn’t missed it.

  “Shit, no, Brooke.” He stopped and stared at her, his face a range of shock and confusion. Hating the hurt in his eyes, she stepped toward him slowly.

  “I’m sorry, I knew you wouldn’t. I just …”

  He slowly lifted his hands and cradled her face, but she stared at his chest. “Don’t you apologize, dammit. And don’t you ever, ever, think for one minute that I could hurt you. That look on your face, shit. That’s a look no man should ever put on your face. Or on any woman’s face.”

  He leaned his forehead against hers, pushed her up against the wall, and held both sides of her face. “Look at me.”

  She turned her face up, begging a tear not to fall.

  “I wanted you bad last night, and as far as I’m concerned I had you. No, not all the way, but you were mine for a moment; the look on your face when you came, and the way you were touching me was incredible.”

  His words weren’t really helping, her emotions continued to well up in her chest.

  “But I have to be honest with you Brooke, part of the reason we didn’t have sex last night was because I knew. Be pissed off if you want, but I did want to be careful with you, make it good. Because I like you, Brooke. I like you a lot, and there’s more than one way to hurt, sometimes liking someone hurts too. Maybe part of me was protecting myself.”

  She lifted her eyes, not caring anymore if her tears fell. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not the only fucked-up person here. You scare the shit out of me, Brooke. And you don’t even want to know what kind of scary shit I’ve been through in my life.”

  “You told me none of that was scary.”

  He chuckled, rubbing his nose against hers. “I don’t mean fishing, I mean jumping out of an airplane and into danger. Shooting the enemy and being shot at. Watching your mother drink until she falls down unconscious.”

  Brooke’s heart ached for him, for the boy he used to be, and for all of the things he’d done and witnessed. She remembered young Alex coming to dinner at their house and eating like he hadn’t seen a meal in days. She ran her hand against his cheek, and he leaned into her and whispered.

  “But you, Brooke, you’re still scarier than all those things I’ve been through.”

  She kissed his cheek gently, unable to help herself.

  “That’s not very romantic,” she whispered, his lips just inches from hers.

  “You’re wrong. It’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever said in my life.”

  He kissed her then, rendering her unable to breathe, think, or speak. He kissed her like it was the last kiss either one of them would ever have, his tongue exploring her mouth, his teeth nipping, his hands pulling her against his body. She shoved her own hands under his shirt and felt the heat of his skin against her fingers.

  When he pulled away he was short of breath. “I’m going to go, but not because I don’t want you. You understand me? And not because I want to protect you, although I do.”

  “Then why are you going?”

  “Because your sho
p opens in thirty minutes, and when I’m finally inside you, thirty minutes is not going to be nearly long enough.”

  With that he picked up his coat, keys, and phone, and was down the stairs.

  NINE

  Brooke had gone over a decade without seeing Alex and been just fine, but not seeing him for the past four days had been agony. Luckily, she’d had plenty to do to prepare for the Mistletoe Ball that weekend and he’d also called and texted several times to tell her he was thinking about her, one night they’d even talked until midnight which had been weird and wonderful at the same time.

  Twelve necklaces was nothing, she’d done that many and more in a week plenty of times, but the design was making things difficult. It had to be just right, formal enough to be worthy of a debutante dress while still maintaining her unique style, which was decidedly not very formal. It was Tuesday by the time she’d made a decision on the perfect look and Wednesday by the time she’d acquired all the supplies, which gave her about seventy-two hours to create twelve perfect pieces of wearable art.

  No big deal.

  Luckily she’d been able to run into Kansas City and found the perfect beads and hardware without having to order them online. There’d been absolutely no time for that. Over the past year, she’d been able to forge a few helpful relationships with other artists and business owners, which had come in handy for this project.

  By Thursday morning she had the first one done. It was gorgeous, an asymmetrical design with the larger round soldered glass piece set off to the side of the décolletage instead of centered at the base. She’d taken some faded Christmas ephemera and very delicately put glittered mistletoe on top of it before soldering it closed. It was connected to a multistrand of metal and clear crystal beads of various shapes and sizes. Chunky yet delicate. Sparkly and handmade. Perfect.

  Her shop door opened, and Callie walked in. “I came with sustenance.” She laid a pink box that smelled like sugar and sin on the counter.

  “Thank you. You have no idea how badly I need this.” Brooke opened the box and sighed as she picked up a sticky-looking pecan cinnamon roll.

  “Mrs. Coleman came in yesterday to finalize the petit four order for the Mistletoe Ball. She told me you were making jewelry for the girls. Can I see?’

  “Actually yes, I’d love to get your opinion. I’ve just finished the first one.” Brooke turned around to her workstation and clasped the necklace around her neck. She pulled her T-shirt down so it would lie correctly against her skin and turned back to Callie who immediately gasped. “Oh my god, that is so beautiful.”

  Callie stepped around the counter and lightly touched the beads. “Brooke, this is a masterpiece, so festive. The girls are going to freak out. Do they get to keep them? I want one.”

  Brooke smiled. Callie’s reaction could not have been any more perfect. “Yes, I suppose they will keep them. Hopefully they’ll like them. I think it turned out well.”

  “Are you kidding me? This is one of the most awesome pieces of jewelry I’ve ever seen.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Just a heads up. I think Anne plans to post your pieces with some pictures tomorrow. I was thinking maybe you should post your tutorial after Christmas, because I know you’ll get more than enough orders with her post to keep you busy until Christmas.”

  “Wow, okay. That sounds like a good idea. I’m excited to do it, in fact I have some fun ideas for what to showcase.”

  “I have no doubt it will be amazing,” Callie said. “Also, another thing. A couple of men came in the other day, and I overheard them talking about your roadwork out front. Apparently some outside developer paid for the road to be widened. Not sure why, something about a new medical office building.”

  “Huh, that’s weird. I can’t really see a new office building anywhere along Main. Everything’s so old.”

  “I know, there’s not even a space to build anything. That’s all I heard, just thought I’d let you know. Hopefully it’s almost done.”

  “I think they’ve been delayed with all this snow we’ve been getting.”

  “I’ll keep my ears open. Better get back before Eric misses me. Don’t forget, the orders will be flooding in here soon.”

  She left with a wink, and Brooke looked down at her newest creation. It really was gorgeous, in fact she’d never been more proud of a piece. She needed to get to work on the other eleven so she could make something for herself to wear. While she was in town, she’d found a beautiful vintage dress that was perfect for the ball. It had a beaded silver bodice that blended in with an ivory taffeta skirt. It was very old Hollywood, and Brooke had instantly fallen in love. She might have spent a hundred dollars she didn’t really have, but she didn’t regret it. It was the Mistletoe Ball, and she would be on a public date with Alex Coleman. She wanted to feel beautiful.

  **

  It was Saturday, and Alex was dying to see Brooke. After putting on his tux he left the Inn on Main and began his drive to the Millard Country Club. It felt weird to not pick Brooke up, but she’d informed him at the last minute that it would be easier if they just met there since she was going early with her mother to put on all the girls’ necklaces. He guessed she hadn’t finished them until the last minute.

  They’d talked a few times on the phone, and the rest of the time he’d thought of her constantly. Their night together had given him plenty of things to fantasize about while they were apart, the look in her eyes right before she’d untied the bow on her top that night being his very favorite. Of course the actual removal of the top and then bra were a very close second. Oh, and the sounds she’d made as she came. He might of thought of that a couple hundred times in the past four days.

  Along with missing Brooke, he’d done his best to avoid Ryan—although he’d seen his patrol car several times around town. He’d also gotten into Kansas City to rent a tux for the ball and even helped his mother with some projects around her trailer. That had been weird at first, but he’d actually begun to enjoy chatting with her. It was quite a different experience talking with her sober. It felt so normal, like they were getting to know each other for the first time. She’d asked him about Oregon, his time in the military, and lots of things about his Ranger missions. She’d even teared up a few times hearing about some of things he’d seen and been through, although he’d assured her that obviously everything had turned out just fine since he was safely standing there retiling her shower. She’d replied with a laugh and a kiss on the cheek.

  His mother had insisted repeatedly that he should stay with her, but he couldn’t. It was one thing to spend a few days in her presence, but he’d needed the space every night to be alone. His concession was to let her do all of his laundry, and that seemed to make her feel a little better.

  Once he’d even met up with a few old army friends who lived in KC. It felt good to be back in touch with people from that time. Many of them were married with children, moving on to a different stage of life. They seemed happy, really happy, and for the first time he was a little envious.

  He pulled onto the club property, slowly following the long rolling drive through the golf course and up to the main clubhouse. He’d never stepped foot in the place—unless you counted the time he and Ryan had spray-painted the front door in the middle of the night—but even now that he was a grown man he was a little nervous.

  The only parking option was valet, so he handed the teenager his keys and stepped into the lobby where he was relieved to see his grandmother in conversation with another woman he recognized but didn’t really know. His grandmother immediately excused herself and rushed over to hug him.

  “Alex, my goodness.” She stepped back and put a hand over her heart while she stared at him. “Clean shaven you look so much like your father. When you walked in I had to look twice.”

  He had no idea what to say that, so he leaned down and kissed her cheek. “You look lovely, Grandma.” She was wearing a red-sequined gown, brilliant against her pale skin and white-gra
y hair. She was an attractive woman, even in her seventies.

  “Thank you. I’m so glad you stayed. Brooke is in with the girls now. She may faint away when she sees you in this tux.” She patted his arm affectionately. “Oh, and the necklaces she made, Alex, they’re so beautiful. I’m so glad you had the idea for her to make them. They’re absolutely perfect.”

  Alex smiled down at her. “I knew they’d be. Thank you for agreeing to let her do this.”

  “How could I not, it was a brilliant idea. Even better, it got you to stay in town a little longer.”

  He smiled and moved aside so a few more people could enter. He didn’t miss the way their eyes settled on him and his grandmother, and he was even more shocked when she didn’t hesitate to introduce him to several couples, including the current mayor. After a moment she turned back to him and whispered, “I see you picked up the corsage I told you to get.”

  He held up a plastic box containing a small arrangement for Brooke’s wrist. “I guess I’m making up for not going to prom, huh?”

  “Looks like it. That is a beautiful corsage. She’ll love it.” She laughed and stepped away to chat with a group that entered behind them.

  He glanced down to the plastic box, hoping she was right, that Brooke would in fact love what he’d chosen. After his grandmother had informed him that corsages were a tradition at the ball, he’d gone to Bloom n’ Twig on Main to order it. He’d been very particular about the fact that it be delicate and contain mistletoe since that had sort of become their theme. The thought made him smile. The night he’d stuffed that ornament in his pocket, he wouldn’t have guessed he’d be escorting Brooke Abbott to the Mistletoe Ball.

  “Well, my goodness, Mr. Coleman, you clean up nicely.”

  Alex shoved the box behind his back and turned to find Brooke coming down a hallway toward him. His mouth instantly went dry. Her dress was silver and sparkly, the ivory skirt swished against her thighs, revealing her toned sexy legs. His eyes roamed the expanse of her skin all the way down to the shiny high heels. Her long hair was off her neck, pulled into some sort of tousled up-do that was soft around her face. She had never looked more beautiful.