A Heartwarming Christmas: A Boxed Set of Twelve Sweet Holiday Romances

by Melinda Curtis

  Joel sprinted inside and raced to the train. “Riff! Look. Train.”

  “No looking for you.” Hope pointed to the back with her key. “On the chair buddy. Four minutes for breaking Auntie Faith’s figurine. That’s the deal.”

  Joel dropped his chin to his chest and stubbed the toe of his boot into the carpet. “Two?”

  “Four.” Hope set her hands on her hips in that universal mom body language way. “It starts when you’re bottom is in that chair.”

  Joel looked at Chris. He even blinked with a hopeful plea.

  “There’s no help from him,” Hope said, employing her universal mom mind-reading skills. “Sheriff’s don’t like when little boys break other people’s things.”

  Joel’s eyes widened. Chris gulped down his coffee. The kid looked like he was about to unleash some serious waterworks. Tears unsettled Chris. Always had. Tears reminded him of his older sister. He’d always tried to drag her into the closet with him, but she’d never listen. She’d always lock him inside the closet. She’d always want to defend their mother. She’d always end up crying too.

  Chris stepped forward. Hope plastered her palm against Chris’ chest, stopping him. She never took her gaze from Joel. “The chair. Now.”

  Joel lifted his gaze to Chris, pleading for a reprieve like a teenage speeder out on County Line Road.

  Chris pressed into Hope’s palm, hoping to help the boy’s case. Time out for a broken figurine. Chris was sure it was an accident.

  Hope pushed back and glared at him with a righteousness Chris couldn’t ignore.

  Chris caught Joel’s eye and jerked his head in the direction of the office, urging his son to hurry along. Joel wiped at his eyes and dragged his feet toward the office chair. The phone rang on the counter.

  Hope’s head dropped and her fingers flexed into Chris’ uniform.

  He could have curled his fingers around hers and tugged, pulling her into him. He could have tipped her chin up, kissed her lips and told her kids were better with boundaries. He could have. If he was different. If they were different. If he was willing to embrace fatherhood and risk an equilibrium-shaking relationship. Because weren’t all relationships as unsteady as a ship on the high seas.

  She dropped her hand and walked toward the counter. “There’s one cop in this family. It’s me. I’m both good and bad.” Her voice was courtroom controlled, assertive and firm.

  That was new. He said, “I wasn’t getting involved.”

  She spun around. “Weren’t you?”

  He held up his hands, pointed to the office. “He is my son. That is what you told me last night.”

  “I told you that he has your DNA.”

  The phone continued to ring. He moved forward, set his lunch and coffee on the counter and leaned toward her, whispering, “And you told me you wanted your son to know his father. When are we going to tell him?”

  “Joel knowing his father and you being his father are two very different things, which is why we need to talk about his expectations and my expectations first.”

  He feared becoming like his own father, taking a marriage for granted, becoming enemies of the one you once called lover, forgetting your children were children with fragile feelings and larger-than-life fears. Chris squeezed the counter edge. “What do you want from me?”

  “I have a list.” Hope straightened a stack of invoices and slipped them into a folder. She moved on to straighten the post-it notes, then the pens, putting everything in order as if Chris had whipped in there like a tornado and spun her world off its carefully ordered axis.

  She’d turned his world upside down and stirred up his emotions that he’d worked so hard to shut down. And he suspected she always would unless he stopped her. “Care to share?”

  “Not around Joel.”

  The phone rang again. The old fashioned ring tone anchored him in the present. But he needed his past. Needed to remember why he could never be a father - he’d had no example of how a good father behaved. He didn’t know where to even start with Hope’s list. “Aren’t you going to answer that?”

  She flipped over the pencils, putting them into the holder tip first. “Not right now. I’m busy.”

  Joel yelled from the office. “Time’s up mommy.”

  “One more minute.” She continued straightening the already orderly desk.

  The phone rang again. Chris reached for it despite Hope’s glare and greeted the caller. He switched the phone to his other ear and scooted around the counter. Picking up the legal pad, he grabbed a pencil and began writing.

  He’d no sooner hung up when the phone rang again. Another customer. Same message. At the third phone call, he greeted Doris Smith and cut her off before she could speak. He ended the call, finished writing Doris’ information on the pad and looked at Hope. “Mrs. Smith heard you were gift-wrapping today and asked if you could wrap her star tree topper. She’d like it dropped off at her daughter’s place over on Ivy Street along with the reindeer food too.”

  “I never offered to gift wrap for everyone. Or hand-deliver.” Hope grabbed the note from him. A thick auburn strand of hair fell from her loose bun, making her look like a librarian frustrated with rowdy students. “No reindeer food.”

  Chris rubbed his chin. “According to Mr. Watson, it’s your special holiday treat.”

  “I don’t have a special treat.”

  “You do now.”

  She slapped the legal pad against his chest. More hair dropped free. “I offered to deliver to the in-store customers only.” She threw her hands up. “It was bribery to keep their complaints contained.”

  “Congratulations.” Chris high-fived her. “Nothing but compliments now. Please don’t forget the edible glitter for the reindeer. We have a wildlife protection law.”

  “There won’t be any reindeer food.”

  The lawyer tone returned. He liked it. And he liked that fire in her eyes. “That your final verdict? You can’t disappoint your customers.”

  “They aren’t mine,” she said, throwing out that stubborn tilt to her chin he knew so well. “I’m only temporary help.”

  Everything with Hope in Christmas Town was temporary. That should suit him. It didn’t. He could barely remember why he should keep his distance from her. Not when he could see the highlights glimmer in her hair or the determination shine in her eyes. Not when things weren’t going her way and she got her back up. That was when he’d enjoyed Hope’s company the most.

  “Time’s up, Mommy,” Joel hollered.

  So was Chris’ time with Hope. He watched as Joel sent his chair in a full spin, heartened once more to see his son’s innocence untarnished. He needed to check on the Stone twins and see how they were doing.

  Hope busied herself with her pen and the legal pad. “One more minute.”

  “You already gave me three one more minutes.” Joel sent his chair twirling in the other direction.

  Chris suppressed a grin, stepped into the office, and slowed the chair. He pumped the chair up to its maximum height, pressed the release and spun the chair.

  Joel laughed as the chair twirled and lowered simultaneously. “Again.”

  “He’s supposed to be contemplating his bad behavior.” Hope stood in the doorway.

  Joel stuck out his bottom lip.

  “He had four minutes to do that.” Chris pumped the chair back up. “These last few minutes were bonus. I’m not sure I could’ve stayed that long in a chair at his age.”

  She glared at him. Joel giggled.

  “I’ll be delivering gifts every night this week.” Hope massaged her neck and looked at Chris. “If he throws up, you’re on clean up duty.”

  Chris eyed Joel, searching his face for a green cast. The little boy beamed back at him. Chris released the lever that pumped the chair back up. “You hardly saw any of the neighborhood last night. Joel will get to see more festive yards.”

  Joel clapped and jumped off the chair.

  “Joel.” Hope pointed at the lit
tle boy. “I didn’t release you.”

  Joel scooted up into the chair. Hope bent down on one knee in front of him. “There’s no touching, Joel. Wherever you see Aunty Faith’s pretty writing, you don’t touch. Got it.”

  He pressed both hands on her cheeks. “Got it.”

  Chris watched as Hope’s body relaxed, softening as if she’d melted like a toasted marshmallow on a graham cracker. As if Joel’s touch held the magic of an instant stress reliever.

  “Mommy needs to work. You can sit by the train.” Hope kissed Joel’s nose. “What’s the rule?”

  “No touch.” Joel ran to the village.

  Chris tucked his own hands into his pockets, telling himself the same thing. No touching. No touching Joel’s mother.

  Hope looked at the clock almost covered by the picture of islands and exotic locations. “Beth should be here within the hour. The delivery truck should be here around three. I can do this.” She walked out into the store. “We’ll make it a drive thru night. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “There’s something wrong with drive-thru’s?” Chris asked.

  She jumped as if she’d forgotten he was there. As if she’d moved on to more important things. He’d like to make sure she remembered him. He’d like to frame her face in his hands and kiss more than her nose. Kiss her long enough to make her remember. And even longer to make sure she never forgot.

  The phone rang again. Once again anchoring him in reality. Kissing Hope wasn’t real. He picked up the phone, grabbed the legal pad from Hope and scribbled another name.

  Hope yanked the legal pad back. “Will you stop doing that please?”

  “Part of good customer service is answering the phone. No one likes to talk to an answering machine these days. Too impersonal.”

  “Don’t you have a job you should be doing?”

  “I am. I’m ensuring the small business owners, who are the cornerstone of the town’s infrastructure are keeping the residents of the town satisfied.”

  “This is not the only small business in town.”

  “But it’s the most interesting.” He felt different than he had in the jail this morning, as if a load had been lifted. He picked up the phone on the first ring, beating Hope. He held the receiver above his head with one hand and kept her from reaching the phone by placing his other hand on her chin. His thumb brushed over her bottom lip, totally by accident. “Definitely the most tempting.”

  He lowered the phone to his ear, greeted the caller, but his gaze remained fixed on Hope. She didn’t look away. Her eyes softened as they had when he’d pulled her away from her friends on a crowded dance floor in Vegas, into the shadows, into his arms. If Christmas wishes were real, he’d wish for Hope in his life and for a son that loved and trusted him.

  He thanked the caller, pressed the hang up button, but kept the cordless phone against his ear.

  She reached up, curved her fingers around his wrist.

  “You need to stop.” She’d lost that lawyer edge to her tone. She was the Hope he’d professed to love in Las Vegas, not quite believing since Chris’ love hadn’t been on one of her precious lists.

  “Do you tell everyone what to do or just me?” he asked, trying very hard to keep a teasing note from his words.

  “Do you ignore everyone or just me?” But she smiled.

  “I tried to ignore you, like unexpected onions on my cheeseburger.” He hated onions, but he liked Hope. “But you linger, like those onions, long after the burger is finished.”

  “Take an antacid.” She rolled her eyes.

  The phone rang again.

  She squeezed his wrist. “Don’t answer that.”

  He clicked the answer button and thanked the caller for phoning Comfort and Joy.

  She glared at him and waited for him to finish. “Tell me what you want.”

  Now that was a loaded question. If he knew what he wanted, he wouldn’t be standing inside a store flirting with Hope Sullivan. If he knew what was good for him, he’d hand her the phone and walk out. Sprint actually. But he’d never done what was good for him.

  “What will it take for you to stop answering my phones?” she asked.

  “Talk to the Stones.”

  “The Stones.”

  “My waffling-to-divorce jailbirds, Lisa and Frank Stone,” he said.

  “Why?”

  Because he couldn’t have what he really wanted: Hope in his arms. Because he wasn’t in her plans. Because he wanted more of her time, even if he had to stare at her from across the sheriff’s office. “Because Mrs. Tanner’s poodle piddles from the stress Lisa and Frank cause.” He explained about the ignored divorce papers and the refusal to move forward.

  “You’ll stop answering my phones?”

  He nodded.

  “Fine.”

  Chris handed the phone to her. “Let’s go.”

  “Riff! Train!” Joel ran around the counter, grabbed Chris’ hand and yanked. “Come, Riff. Train.”

  Hope looked at Joel. “Take a breath, Joel. What can I do?”

  Joel tugged on Chris’ arm with both of his hands. “I need Riff.”

  “Joel, Mommy can help you.” Hope stepped forward.

  Chris blocked her and picked up Joel to look him in the eyes. “Ok, buddy, what’s up?”

  Big, round green globes blinked at him. Joel reached up and flattened his palms against Chris’ cheeks and whispered, “Train crashed.”

  Yeah, he just got the power of little hands. His heart flipped over. There was even more power in the realization that he’d do anything for this little person. Protect. Fix. Make it right. And Joel had come to Chris, not Hope. Yes, there was something heady about that too.

  Hope leaned over Chris’ shoulder. “What did he say?”

  Chris adjusted Joel against his chest and glanced at Hope. “It’s men business. Mechanical breakdowns. Girls don’t understand.”

  Joel set his head on Chris’ shoulder and giggled. “Mommy is a girl.”

  Chris’ heart flopped again. “She is certainly that.” Chris smiled when the phone rang. “I’ll be happy to get that.”

  Hope frowned at him and set the phone to her ear.

  Chris headed to the village and the train wreck. He squeezed Joel. “Did you touch the train?”

  Joel shook his head. “It stopped.”

  Chris surveyed the town. Everything was intact, except the train tracks. Those were not so intact. Those had clearly been moved by inquisitive hands - either reaching for the train or the track itself.

  He pulled the stool closer, set Joel on his knee and pointed to the tipped over steam engine. “Trains have to run on the tracks.” He snapped the tracks back together. “Now see this button. Watch what happens when I press it.”

  He set the train running. Joel cheered when the train disappeared inside the large mountain. The train covered its tracks twice before Chris pressed the button switching the train to the other tracks. “Ok, buddy, touch this button only when you want the train to go new places.”

  Joel nodded, his focus on the train circling the pond.

  “He broke the train, didn’t he,” Hope said from behind the counter.

  “Nope. The train is fine,” Chris said. “You can hear the whistle, even back here.”

  “I can fix a train.” She pouted like Joel, her bottom lip jutted out.

  “I’m sure you can. But he didn’t ask you. He asked me.” He didn’t take the gloat from his tone. “Grab your coat. Beth just walked in the back door. It’s time to meet Lisa and Frank Stone.”

  Hope snatched the legal pad from the counter and strode into the office.

  She didn’t like his orders. And he knew it. They countered whatever plans and expectations she had for him as Joel’s father. He didn’t like all the feelings she stirred up in him. He didn’t like that he wanted to pull her into his embrace and kiss her when she ordered him around. He didn’t like that he remembered all too clearly the feel of this particular woman in his arms. He di
dn’t like that Hope was that one woman his heart couldn’t forget.

  And he especially didn’t like feeling like that train, knowing she’d change the tracks and he’d crash if he made just one error.

  Chapter 6

  Hope chop-blocked her inner elf and tossed the notepad on the office desk. Nothing about the day had gone according to her plan. The evening was becoming more messed up than last year’s tree lights.

  Now there was Chris. She’d told him she’d be in touch. She’d arrange their next meeting. But he was here: answering phones, bartering with her and helping Joel.

  Her inner elf shimmied in the corner, waving a Santa hat like the North Star. She slammed the door on her pesky elf and crossed her arms over her chest. She’d wanted Joel to get to know Chris. That was the plan. She was prepared to share her son. Or so she’d thought.

  But Joel had run to Chris first to fix the train and she’d felt jealous. Joel had framed Chris’ face to ensure his full attention and she’d felt jealous. He’d only ever done that with Hope.

  To his credit, Chris had never hesitated. He’d simply wrapped Joel up in his arms as if he’d been holding him for years. As if he’d been fixing problems and soothing bruises since his birth. Like Chris had always done with her. It made her feel like revising her plans.

  Then Chris and Joel had sat at the town as if they belonged together. As if they built their own village. A village for two. A village she hadn’t thought could exist given Chris had always said he didn’t want children. And that Polar Express barreled over Hope. She envisioned it all: a train rumbling around their Christmas tree, three embroidered stockings hung on the mantle and laughter. So much laughter.

  Because Chris had given her that: laughter, joy, and security. Before she’d realized Chris didn’t really want her. Before he’d let her drive off and gone through with a marriage to someone else. Before she’d made a new plan that couldn’t be derailed by Chris or any other man. She and Joel had to be their own village.

  She pulled her jacket and scarf off the hook behind the door and walked into the storage room to talk to Beth about the missing orders and the gift wrapping, only then did she feel her control slip back in place. Only then did she face Chris again. “Beth is all set. I just need to remind Joel to listen to Ms. Beth.”