by Kyle Baxter
The Problem
With
Mistletoe
by KYLE BAXTER
The Problem with Mistletoe
Copyright © 2019 Kyle Baxter
All rights reserved. This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission from the publisher, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products, bands, and/or restaurants referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication/use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners.
Table of Contents
Acknowledgments
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
About the Author
Acknowledgments
Writing a book can be a difficult, intense and rewarding experience, so thanks to everyone who helped me get to this point. It would not have been possible without Gabriella Michaelis, my ever-patient beta reader and a fantastic novelist, and Bodie Dykstra, my amazing editor.
To my dear friend, Andrea La-Rosa Jimenez, from reading early drafts to giving me advice and support, thank you so much.
Special thanks to my friend Jon Crefeld, who co-wrote I Hate Love with me. It is the actual gender flipped version of Much Ado About Nothing. From the writing to the production at the Midtown International Theater Festival, it was such a great experience.
Finally, thanks to all those who have been a part of my getting here: Jodi Erickson, DR Mann Hanson, Jordan Hollen, Katie Ratner, Silke Springer, Sean Rehag, Brett Callis, and pal Dorian Wright.
Finally, I want to thank my father, my brother and anyone who said anything positive, or taught me something along the way. Mahalo nui loa.
For Robert, and Rich
and all those
we loved and lost.
What is remembered lives.
Chapter One
Wild Horses
“Oh my God, did you see their outfits? Do you think they know they look ridiculous?”
David Cooper cringed as the words fell out of Cindy’s mouth. Her hair was crispy and crimped, and like him, she was in her thirties and fit. This was their first meeting, a cursory coffee date set up by a friend.
That same friend, one Bonnie Taylor, told him, “You need to get out, find some magic.” But David feared there was none left for him. Still, he wanted to try. Letting her set him up on the occasional date was the first step.
Luckily the offending couple was not within earshot. The din of the Java-N-Kava Coffee Shop helped. David decided he liked their outfits; they were gaudy and bright and perfect. One actually had twinkling lights! The other featured a large Santa Claus head with a stocking cap and a real puffy ball.
David turned to the barista and paid for his coffees. A small jar with the letters CYA—his mother’s very own Cooper Youth Association—sat on the counter, nestled within a small holly wreath. He dropped a dollar in it and one in the tip jar.
“I think that’s the point. They’re going to the Bad Christmas Sweater Party at County General.” Handing Cindy a cup, he followed her to a nearby table. He was impressed she was able to navigate the way with her head buried in her phone.
As she sat, her eyes rose to him. “How do you know that?”
“I know them a little. The medical community is tight. I work at EMC—Edgedale Medical Center. I’m a nurse.” David braced for the response, the inevitable disappointment.
Her eyes narrowed. “A nurse, not a doctor?”
“No.” David’s stomach knotted when he saw her sour look. People rarely saw male nurses in an appreciative light, as if he was somehow less than others for choosing this career path. They sat for a moment in silence. Cindy’s eyes flitted back to her phone.
“I like their sweaters,” he said. “I love Christmas.”
“It’s a little early,” she countered and looked around the coffee shop. All the tables and counter spaces had seasonal decorations. The chalkboard signage drawn with Christmas imagery and holiday music played cheerily through the speaker system.
He chuckled and shook his head. “It’s three weeks away.”
“Exactly.” She scowled.
Their town was notoriously Christmas-happy, and she didn’t seem to know this. “Are you new in town?” he asked.
“Taking some courses at the college.” She barely looked at him.
His eyes searched the room while he tried to think of something else to say. He landed on, “What do you do?” Blood pumped loudly in his ears. Why did he agree to this?
“I work at a gym.” Her eyes didn’t lift from her phone this time.
David thought he’d recognized her—she worked at his gym. Another painful moment ticked by. He drummed his fingers on the table. “Are you a trainer?”
“No, I work the front desk.”
“You must meet some interesting people.” Come on, I’m trying here. Give me something.
She shrugged. “I’m only there until my YouTube channel takes off.” Cindy leaned forward, brightening for the first time. For half a moment, he saw an opening. Maybe this was a chance for them to connect, but with a ping, her phone recaptured her interest.
David grabbed his own device and texted under the table: HELP! He set up a prearranged distress call in case it didn’t go well, and this was not going well.
He cast a furtive glance, hoping he wasn’t caught, but Cindy was engrossed, texting. Why did he care? Though her own lack of courtesy clearly didn’t bother her, getting on his phone during a date still felt wrong.
; His phone chirped its incoming text tone and he lifted it up. “I have to go. There’s an emergency at the hospital. I’m sorry.” He felt bad about the lie, but it was better to rip the Band-Aid off. David pulled his jacket on as he stood. “I’m going to ‘make like a tree and get out of here.’” He hoped for some interest, some inkling of a sense of humor, but Cindy only stared at him like he just set himself on fire.
“Back to the Future,” he explained, but shaking her head, she returned to her phone. “Okay. It was nice to meet you.” At the door, he turned to wave goodbye, but she was nose-deep in her phone and had already forgotten him.
After stepping out into the cold air, he strode away. A fresh layer of snow fell today, making everything twinkle under the holly-festooned street lamps.
He called his matchmaker, Bonnie. They were friends since she moved to town in middle school and she was “Benjamin.” Her deadname, he reminded himself.
“You’re so almost fired,” David spat as soon as she picked up. “I can’t believe I paid a babysitter to watch Eric for this.”
“I offered to watch the munchkin,” Bonnie said.
“You’re busy enough. I wouldn’t ask it of you.”
“I’m more than happy to,” she started. “No, you know what? I am not getting into this with you again.”
David grunted. “Why’d you think I’d be interested in her?” Cindy didn’t seem to care for Christmas, so they would definitely not get along.
Bonnie laughed. “I didn’t, but you have to be out there to have a chance at finding some magic. Of course, you also have to be open to it.”
“I don’t believe in magic,” he stammered, almost tripping as he dodged a holiday shopper. He was impressed. Even with the recent heavy snowfall, people were out in droves.
“Liar. Did you at least try to talk with her? She’s in fitness, and you work out.”
“She’s not in fitness! She works the desk at a gym. My gym.” He made his way back to his car. “I’m going to have to see her every time I go in.”
“Did you at least tell her you’re an ex-pro athlete?”
“That was years ago, and it didn’t come up.” It stopped him in his tracks. “How do you even work that into a conversation? ‘By the way, I used to be a second-rate hockey player.’”
She let out an exasperated breath. “You weren’t second-rate, and I’m in no mood for a pity party tonight.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, fumbling for his keys. Why did he agree to meet in Midtown? Traffic was terrible this time of day and the snow made it worse.
“Don’t apologize. I’ll set you up for another blind date next week.” She sounded disappointed. “You know . . . it would help if we expanded our search. You are bisexual. There are men I could set you up with.”
“Hey, we talked about this.”
“Look, I know your last relationship with a guy didn’t end well—” she started.
“That’s being nice.” He waved to someone across the street, a parent of one of Eric’s classmates. “After two months he decided he didn’t like kids.”
“Yeah, that definitely wouldn’t work, but—”
“How about we wait on this until after the holidays?” The thought of another setup made him queasy.
“The holidays are three weeks away.” Her tone was sharp. “Quit being dramatic.”
“I’m kind of busy at the moment with work and the Christmas party.”
That earned another laugh from her. “I’m aware of that. I’m involved with it too. Certainly, the world won’t fall apart if you go on a date now and then.”
“Right . . . Yeah, you’re right.” David stopped at his car and looked around, shivering in the cold. Holiday revelers moved around him. He felt stuck in place, frozen.
Chapter Two
Everything Counts
“Do you boys have plans tonight?” Zooey Chandler asked as she pulled the supply cart to the nursing station. Her short, volumized bob bounced as she moved her head.
She and David had worked together for almost a year since she transferred from County General, and she kept that hairstyle meticulously maintained. He thought she was going for a shorter version of “the Rachel” after Jennifer Aniston’s character on Friends, but it came across more as the “I want to speak to your manager” cut. It was all in the demeanor.
David swiveled in his chair and went back to charting. “We’re going to Capili’s Italian Restaurant. Eric heard they have the best spaghetti in town.”
“Is there room for one more?” She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow.
And there it was, he thought. At least he didn’t have to wait long. “Sorry, it’s father and son time tonight.” He hoped she’d take the hint. They were good work friends, but she wanted more . . . Danger, Will Robinson! She was smart, sharp, and capable, but she lacked much of a sense of humor, and that was a nonstarter.
“But I’m free tonight, and we haven’t done anything outside of work in a long time.” Her voice approached a whine. She had a point, but he didn’t want to share his time with Eric.
“Dial it back a notch, Zee. He told you no.” Bryan slipped past Zooey into the station.
Zooey gave the tall guy a dirty look. “I was just asking.”
“Try doing it without the claws.” Bryan held up a hand in front of him like a cat and hissed, baring his teeth.
She scowled. “You’re a jackass.”
“He doesn’t shit where he eats. He’s told you that. Besides, if he did, I’d be first in line.”
For a moment David thought he was going to have to step in. They were notorious for baiting each other. But Bryan’s response made Zooey smirk and put a smile on his own face.
Hospital administrator Doctor Mark Horton picked that moment to walk up to the desk. Zooey edged away, and Bryan pivoted on a heel and found something else to occupy himself with. Horton was nice, but your boss was still your boss. David tilted his head at the man and mouthed a silent, wide-eyed thank you.
“Dr. Horton, how can we help you?” he asked with more cheer than he felt.
“I hear you’re in charge of the CYA Christmas party,” the older man said.
David bobbed his head. “More like helping with, but yes.”
“My wife’s excited about it, and you know, she’s a big fan of your mother’s.”
Of course. David forced a tight smile. “I’ll be sure to introduce them.” Everyone always wanted to meet his mother. The wife of a much-beloved mayor, she filled out his father’s term when he passed, then later ran for mayor herself.
“It would mean a lot.” Horton winked at him. Abruptly, the man’s jovial mien dropped. “You know Edgedale needs an organization like Cooper Youth Association.”
“Yes, sir, I agree. We’re hoping to grow it and offer more.”
“That’s good to hear. The hospital will do whatever we can to help. You can put up posters and fliers and . . . what have you.”
“Hey,” David said, pointing a finger at the older man. “Thank you, sir.”
“You bet.” Horton grinned as he walked away. “And I’m sure the party will be spectacular.”
David thought that was asking a lot. Potential donors to the charity were invited, but at its heart, the event was a staff party for the holidays.
“Spectacular,” Bryan whispered from behind and David groaned.
Zooey leaned in beside him, making him jump. “Do you ever get tired of people ingratiating themselves with you to get to your mother?”
He shrugged. “It’s been going on most of my life, and besides, the boss’s wife being a fan of my mom is not the worst thing in the world.”
“But now you’ve got even more pressure to deliver on the party,” she said.
“Spectacular,” Bryan repeated with jazz hands.
David put his head in his hands. This was going to be a thing, wasn’t it?
It was late afternoon when he walked into the shiny new building in midtown that was home to his mother’s offi
ce. He hated coming down here, but he was picking up Eric from school and wasn’t sure of her schedule.
Part of him wished she’d retire. She’d hardly let up after his father passed five years ago. He was soon up the elevator and down the hall, giving a conspiratorial wink to her secretary.
“Hey, Maddie.”
“She knows you’re coming?” Madelyn Pryor side-eyed him as he strolled by.
He knocked on his mother’s office door. “Absolutely.”
“Come.” Tandi Cooper sounded terse. As he entered, she was on the phone and using her professional voice. Always immaculately dressed, she waved him in.
Pulling out his phone as he sat, he caught up on emails while she finished the call. He thought she let it go on a moment more than needed. She was not above Art of War tactics, even with family. The call ended and she folded her hands on the desk. A cocked eyebrow signaled his turn at bat.
“Busy day?”
“Quite.” She didn’t elaborate, but that was par for the course. “What do you need, dear?”
“I’m picking up Eric and headed to an early dinner. Want to come with?”
“Thank you, but no.” Her practiced game face relaxed. “I’ve a case to prepare for. Why don’t you ask the girl you work with?”
“Zooey? No.” David blanched. “‘No siree, not for me.’”
Tandi narrowed her eyes and shook her head. It was clearly a reference she didn’t get. Like Bonnie, she didn’t engage him in his movie quoting. No one did anymore.
“We’ve talked about this, David. You’ve had custody of Eric for over a year and a half. You can go on a date now and then.”
“I’ll have you know I went on a date yesterday.”
“Do tell. How did it go?” Tandi leaned back in her chair.
“You know how some people have instant chemistry? This was the exact opposite.”
She picked up a pen on her desk and toyed with it. “Well, my dear, you have to kiss a lot of frogs to find a prince, or princess, or whatever.”
“Pass. I’m only now getting the single dad thing down. Eric and I have a rhythm. I don’t want to disrupt it.” He sat forward. “Why is this important to you?”
Tandi took her glasses off and set them on the desk. “You’re still a young man and I want to see you happy.”
