by Elena Aitken
Retreating to the conference room, Hannah and Whitney began listing out options, making note of what materials they had readily available and what could be overnighted via the internet. That sent Hannah’s distracted brain down a rabbit hole, trying to remember if she’d finished her Christmas wrapping so she could take the gifts over tonight. From there, she took a mental trip through the massive care package she’d shipped to Ryan, wondering when it would get there and if he and his team would like the decorations she’d sent. Would it help cheer them up or just make them homesick? She was banking on the former, but it was her first major holiday as a military girlfriend. Maybe she should’ve asked first.
“Earth to Hannah. What do you think of those blown-glass ornaments we looked at by that artist in Eden’s Ridge? We could incorporate them on mini Christmas trees maybe.”
“What?” She blinked, zeroing in on Whitney’s expectant face. “Oh, sorry. My focus is shot.” She needed to get it together so they could put the finishing touches on this winter wedding for Wynne Montgomery.
Whitney smirked. “Perhaps your attention would be held better by a certain bearded hottie in uniform?”
A pang echoed through her heart. If only. “That would definitely catch my attention.”
“Good to know.”
At the deep, resonant voice, she whirled.
Ryan stood in the doorway of the conference room in his BDUs, bag slung over his shoulder, exhaustion etched around his eyes, a smile on his face.
She was running, leaping into his arms almost before he could drop his bag. “You’re here. You’re here.” She peppered kisses over his face, her arms and legs tightening around him as he staggered a little beneath her onslaught. “How are you here? Never mind. That can wait for a minute.”
Her mouth fused to his. He took a couple of steps, turning until her back was to a wall and he had better leverage. Then he pulled back for a moment, cupping her face in his hands and lowering his lips to hers in a deep, toe-curling, panty-melting kiss that went a long damned way to making up for the time and distance apart.
Dimly, she heard Whitney muttering, “I’m just gonna give y’all some privacy.” Then the door to the conference room closed.
When they finally broke apart, breathless, Hannah couldn’t release him. He was here. “Oh my God, I missed you so much.”
“I missed you, too.”
She pulled back far enough to see his face. “How are you here? You said you couldn’t come home for Christmas.”
He let her slide down his body, but his hands gripped her hips, kneading a little, as if he couldn’t quite let her go either. “I pulled a few strings. I had to give you your Christmas present in person.”
“I don’t want anything but you.”
Amusement and heat lit his eyes as a grin curved his lips. “I think you’ll want this.”
Her heart went slow and thick in her chest as he turned away and dug in one of the pockets of the bag. Was he…?
He pulled out a fat envelope and passed it over. “Open it.”
The back flap wasn’t sealed. She slid the contents out and unfolded the pile, finding a bunch of paperwork with official-looking seals from the United States Army. “What am I looking at?”
“I should probably have put the last page on the front. It ought to make more sense.”
Shuffling the pages, she found a letter from the University of Mississippi Medical School.
Dear Mr. Malone,
We are pleased to offer you a position in our incoming class for the coming fall semester—
Her head snapped up. “This is an acceptance into medical school.”
His grin turned smug. “It is.”
“Which makes all the rest of this—?”
“My paperwork to separate from the Army. I’m not gonna re-up. I’m coming home for good.”
I’m coming home. His words echoed through her head, pinging around until they settled in her heart, warming it like a coal. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Ryan,” she whispered. Then she was in his arms again, her mouth on his, the papers squashed between them. He was coming home.
Some time later, when they’d surfaced to breathe, she demanded, “How long have you been sitting on this?”
“I started working on it right after I left you last Christmas.” He combed his fingers through her hair in that way he had and smiled at her. “I told you, you made me want something else.”
She hadn’t known he’d been ready to change everything. He hadn’t said a word. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
On a shrug, he dropped into a chair, tugging her into his lap. “What if you changed your mind about me? About us?”
“Ryan Malone, that is not gonna happen.”
“I don’t know,” he drawled. “You might get sick of seeing me all the time.”
“That’s going to take a very, very long time. And I’d like to see more of you in very short order.”
Grinning, he tipped his face up to hers. “I support this plan. How far to your new place? You can give me the naked tour and then you can see as much of me as you want for the next—oh—forty-eight hours or so.”
Her body went molten at the idea of two whole uninterrupted days with him. And then reality knocked her over the head. “That sounds—amazing. But there’s just one thing we have to do first.”
“Stop for condoms? I’ve got that covered.”
She snorted a laugh. “Look at you, being all Mr. Boy Scout. But no. I wasn’t expecting you and…well, my parents are in town for Christmas.”
His face blanked. “They’re staying with you?”
“No. With Carolanne. But I’m expected at family dinner in a couple of hours. Since you’re actually in town…you could come meet them.”
“Meet your parents,” he repeated.
Was her badass, Delta Force boyfriend actually…nervous?
“It’ll be fine. They’re going to love you—because I do.” She hadn’t told him in all these months. She’d wanted to be able to touch him, to see him when she did.
His chestnut eyes darkened, and he reached up to cup her cheek. “I love you, too, Hannah Wheeler.”
She bowed her head, pressing her brow to his as the warmth of joy spread through her, rich and intoxicating as mulled wine.
“You said we had a couple hours before dinner?”
“Yeah.”
Plucking her out of his lap, he set her on her feet and grabbed her hand. “Then we have enough time to get back to your place so I can show you exactly how much.”
She was still laughing as he dragged her from the building.
Choose Your Next Romance!
Next up in the Wishful lineup is a delightful friends-to-lovers romance set against a class reunion. If you’ve got high school or prom trauma, you’re gonna love Dancing Away With My Heart. Plus, you’ll get to see Jace and Tara’s (Dance Me A Dream) wedding!
If you’re in the mood for more friends-to-lovers, you can check out my latest Wishful Meet Cute Romance, Once Upon A Rescue. This one features a Mississippi blizzard, an adorkable firefighter, and a boatload of dogs. And, of course, the Casserole Patrol!
The whole series can be read out of order, but if you’d like to start Wishful at the beginning, check out To Get Me To You.
You can find a comprehensive list of my books at https://kaitnolan.com.
About Kait
Kait is a Mississippi native, who often swears like a sailor, calls everyone sugar, honey, or darlin', and can wield a bless your heart like a saber or a Snuggie, depending on requirements.
You can find more information on this RITA ® Award-winning author and her books on her website http://kaitnolan.com. While you’re there, sign up for her newsletter so you don’t miss out on news about new releases: https://kaitnolan.com/newsletter/
Missy’s Wish
Katy Regnery writing as Katy Paige
What would it be like to be treated—just for once—like a nice girl instead of a dirty j
oke?
Waitress Missy Branson has lived her whole life in Gardiner, Montana, where her reputation as a good-time girl has given her the nickname "Easy Missy," and no decent man would consider asking her out.
But short-order cook and recent parolee Lucas Flynn isn't one to judge. Besides, from what he can see, Missy is kind and sweet, qualities on which Lucas sets a high premium, since they've eluded him for so long.
When Missy and Lucas connect on the loading dock behind the restaurant where they work, he'll encourage her to wish on a star. But it will take the magic of Christmastime to help Missy's wish come true!
MISSY’S WISH
Copyright © 2019 by Katharine Gilliam Regnery
Sale of the electronic edition of this book is wholly unauthorized. Except for use in review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part, by any means, is forbidden without written permission from the author/publisher.
Katharine Gilliam Regnery, publisher
This book is a work of fiction. Most names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination. Any references to real people or places are used fictitiously.
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Please visit my website at www.katyregnery.com
Second Edition: December 2019
Missy’s Wish: a novella / by Katy Paige—2nd Ed.
ISBN: 978-1-944810-52-8
For Danielle, who reads it every year.
And for Danielle, with thanks.
This story belongs to you two.
xoxoxo
Chapter 1
Lucas Flynn looked up as Missy Branson stormed into the kitchen of the Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon holding an empty water pitcher, her sudden appearance accompanied by a chorus of raucous laughter from the dining area, only silenced when the kitchen door swung closed.
Without stopping, she slammed the pitcher down on the metal counter under the heating lamps, then continued through the kitchen and out the back door.
The Blue Moon, located in Gardiner, Montana, marketed itself as "The Best Chow North of Yellowstone."
With the rudest customers.
It wasn’t hard to put two and two together. Lucas had seen this happen several times during the four months he’d been working here.
Peeking through the order-up window, he saw three idiots in the corner, under the moose head strung with winking Christmas lights, sporting varying degrees of wet hair and clothes.
A trio of assholes.
The café’s two other waitresses, Starla and Rose, hovered over them with extra napkins, while Stu, the café’s owner, offered drinks on the house.
Lucas rolled his eyes.
God only knew what they’d said to her to deserve an impromptu shower. From what he’d observed, it took a lot—a ridiculous amount of mean-spirited teasing and outright abuse—to get a rise out of Missy.
Since taking the job as short-order cook at Stu’s Blue Moon Raccoon Saloon after being paroled in September, Lucas had kept his head down and his opinions to himself. He wasn’t interested in getting into any trouble, and he certainly wasn’t aiming for any more time inside. But his lip curled as he wondered about the three guys. What had they said to upset Missy so much?
He looked over to make sure Del, the head cook, had his back turned, then glanced down at the grill where their three burgers sizzled. Bringing the spatula close to his lips, he gathered a good bit of saliva on his tongue and quietly spat on it, then he rubbed each of the burgers with a little clear goop before flipping them.
Flicking a glance toward the outside door, he wondered when Missy was coming back. It was cold and dark out and she wasn’t wearing a coat. Wasn’t wearing anything but that obscene joke of a waitress uniform.
Lucas had overheard her ask Stu for a larger size at least twice, and the answer he gave her was pure crap; the dirty old bastard liked the way it strained over her chest, just like all the other jerkoff patrons who treated her like dirt.
Makes me mad as hell.
He was grateful that restaurant owners like Stu participated in the prison release program, giving jobs to guys like Lucas who’d done their time and come out with a good behavior record, but Stu himself was kind of a douche. Missy Branson didn’t deserve to be treated like garbage. There were plenty of people he’d met that did deserve it, but not her. And yeah, he got the picture. He knew her reputation wasn’t lily white. Heck, from what he could gather it was probably closer to a dark gray. But Lucas Flynn didn’t care if Missy had screwed half the town. It didn’t change the fact that she was one of the prettiest, nicest people he’d ever met.
Lucas slid the extra-special hamburgers off the griddle and onto a trio of toasted buns. He added lettuce and tomato on the side, and three large handfuls of chips to the plates before ringing the call-bell for Rose. “Order up. Twelve.”
After using the spatula to scrape the tidbits into the front bin, Lucas turned to Del. “Okay if I take my fifteen minutes now, boss?”
“Been more’n three months, Flynn. Don’t gotta call me ‘boss.’”
“Yes, sir.” He rubbed his forehead, giving the large Native American cook a lopsided smile. “Old habits…Del.”
Del looked at the back door, then back at Lucas, raising one eyebrow.
“Think with your head,” he cautioned, glancing at Lucas’s crotch meaningfully with big, brown, world-weary eyes.
“Yes, bo—Del. Good advice.”
Del shrugged, tilting his head toward the back door. “Have at it.”
Lucas grabbed Missy’s jacket before slipping outside.
Missy Branson was sure there was a tattoo on her forehead only visible to the nastiest, rudest men who passed through Gardiner, Montana, that read in blaring, neon ink: Available.
Take, for instance, the guys over at table twelve tonight.
“Hey, Missy!”
It was the supercute guy who’d been a regular in her section recently. He was probably a winter hiker or a cross country skier, she thought, having noted the gear piled up behind his table. Many tourists came to Gardiner, Montana, in December to take advantage of the white winter landscape in Yellowstone—it was the best time of the year to see wildlife. Cutie and his friends had been in three times this week for supper, and he always offered her a bright smile and left her a good tip.
She stepped away from table ten, turning to face him, offering him a flirtatious smile. “Who, me?”
“Your name is Missy, right?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well…can I get your number?” he asked, leaning forward with a bright smile.
The man beside Cutie stared at the table snickering quietly, but Tess locked her blue eyes on the Cutie. Did he like her? Maybe he did, she thought, her heart thundering with hope. He always sat in her section. And he wasn’t local, so he didn’t know her reputation.
Maybe she’d give him her number and Cutie would come back tomorrow night and take her out for dinner. Maybe they’d talk all night long and find out how much they had in common. He’d see what a good person she was, and—
“Earth to Missy!”
She giggled softly. “Sorry.”
“So, what is it? Your number?”
“Oh! Sure,” she said, taking the pencil from behind her ear
She wrote down the digits on an empty check and handed it to him.
Cutie spread it out on the table, then opened another piece of paper he’d hidden in his hand and compared the two numbers. They were identical.
“Hot damn!” said his friend, chortling.
Cutie looked up at her, a wide grin spreading across his face, and Missy took an involuntary step away from him. It was a mean grin. She knew it well. She’d seen it a million times before.
He pointed to the paper he’d unfolded. “Got this one off the bathroom wall. Said to call “Easy Missy” for a good time. Just wanted to be sure I got the right number.”
/>
“Slut,” muttered his friend, pretending to cough.
Slut.
Missy’s cheeks had burned, and her body felt tingly from a sudden burst of adrenaline. She had two choices: she could cry, or she could get mad.
Without another thought, she’d yanked the full pitcher of icy water off the tray, drew back her arm and let loose, drenching all three men and yelling “Cool off!” before bee-lining through the kitchen to the loading dock.
Goodness gracious, but men could be cruel.
What would it be like to be treated—just for once—like a nice girl instead of a dirty joke?
Drying her eyes with the backs of her hands, she turned when she heard the kitchen door open behind her, catching sight of Lucas Flynn before looking away.
Great. Alone in the dark with an ex-con.
She quickly chastised herself. That wasn’t fair. Some men were monsters, true, but Lucas Flynn had been nothing but polite to her since starting at the Blue Moon a few months back. He didn’t deserve her unkind thoughts. Lord knew how she felt when unkindness was directed at her, and it sure happened often enough.
“Heya,” she murmured, making outward amends for her internal meanness.
He hung back, smelling of hamburgers and hot dogs and the warm grill inside.
“I, uh, brought your jacket,” he said softly.
She furrowed her brows, turning to face him. Because of the cold, she knew the tips of her breasts would be visible against her too-small uniform. She crossed her arms over her chest protectively, reaching out with one hand for her jacket.
Instead of handing it to her, Lucas stepped closer, opening it up and encircling her shoulders, placing it gingerly around her. He tugged at the collar gently, pulling it snug around her neck and ears before stepping back.