Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

by Stacey Kennedy

  Penelope inhaled sharply as her lungs were desperate for air. On the end table, she noticed her cell phone and the little light beeping blue. She grabbed her phone, and slid down the headboard to land back onto the bed. Then she did what any sane woman would do—she hid under the duvet, hoping to God this was some terrible dream and soon she’d wake up.

  Though when she unlocked her phone and saw the text message, she knew this morning was too messy to be anything else but real life. Messy was kinda her thing. In her dreams, she was so quiet and reserved, but in the real world, not so much.

  Even though she knew the text message from the youngest Carter sister, Maisie, and would likely suck, she opened the message, hoping for the best. Then promptly cringed.

  You better be dead. Okay, no, I hope you’re not dead, but if you are alive, Clara is going to kill you. Please text. Everyone is worried about where you are.

  “Shit,” Penelope breathed, under her tent of peace that she never wanted to leave. She tried, like really, really tried not worry her family. Last night had definitely been a low point. Trying to fix her snafu, she texted back: I’m so sorry for worrying everyone. My phone died. Sometimes little lies helped fix truths that would only end in long discussions she didn’t want to have. I’ll be home soon. Promise. P.S. Tell Clara I’ll bring her pie.

  Pie fixed everything in the Carter household. Especially apple.

  A creak of the floorboards, and Penelope froze.

  “Not a very good hiding spot,” Darryl said, amusement heavy in his low—ridiculously seductive—voice.

  Penelope considered what he’d do if she didn’t come out. Would he just leave? Then could she sneak out?

  Dammit, he was a cop. He’d wait her out.

  She slowly lowered the blanket, finding him leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his wide chest and black T-shirt. Sweet Jesus. He looked even sexier this morning than when he was twenty years old. He belonged on a wilderness advertisement for some cologne that made women rip their panties off and throw them at him. And, like every elusive wilderness adventure hero, his expression was one hundred percent unreadable.

  “Sorry about the cat,” he said, eventually breaking the silence. “He’s an asshole most days.”

  She snorted a laugh. “Really? He seemed so friendly.”

  The side of his sculpted lips, that she recalled seemed to be made for hot kisses, curved up. Damn. She was in so much trouble. She cleared her throat and dared to ask, “What happened last night?”

  One brow arched. “You don’t remember?”

  “I remember the singing and dancing, but after that, it’s a blur.”

  He nodded, like he expected that answer. “I got you into my cruiser, and you passed out cold. I tried to wake you up, but that wasn’t happening. So, it was either stay here at my place or the drunk tank at the station. What would you have preferred?”

  “Here, so much here,” she said, aware that she had to look like shit, and somehow feeling oddly self-conscious about that. A new thing for her. “Seriously, thank you so much.” She paused, realizing something else too. “And thanks for not calling my cousins. I wouldn’t have heard the end of that if I showed up at home in a cruiser.”

  “I suspected so.” His mouth twitched. “Clara was in my graduating class.”

  Yeah, she figured Darryl probably knew her cousins even better than she did. She spent her childhood summers there in Colorado, for “fresh air” her parents said. But for the past ten years, she’d only talked over text and phone calls to her cousins.

  Darryl wasn’t moving, simply watching her. She stared into the strength of his eyes, feeling that same flutter tickle in her belly that she felt when she’d met him at summer camp. An odd flutter, really. One she couldn’t exactly understand, considering he also had that whole authoritative figure thing going on, which typically was a red flag for her.

  Why was she even thinking about this?

  She came to River Rock to be on her best behavior, and not to be the “wild child.” Ready to get the hell out of Darryl’s house and to fix her wrongs of last night with her cousins, she slid out of bed. “So…it’s been a while, huh?”

  “Ten years,” he said.

  “Wow, that long,” she countered. Damn, now she was just being obvious that he rattled her a little. “Well, the ten years have been good to you.” She quickly made the bed before turning back to him.

  Heat flared in his eyes. “I’m not the only one.”

  Sweet Jesus. That voice. Those eyes. Darryl held a power that no man she’d met since him had. He made her belly flutter, heart race, and her regions south warm. And she had made a complete ass out of herself last night. “Thanks again for saving my butt last night, but I better get an Uber before my cousins kill me.” She turned around and spotted her purse on the floor next to bed.

  “Running away just like you did after I kissed you?”

  She snatched her purse then slowly looked back at him, finding his hard stare on her. “I never stay in one place long,” she told him. Not entirely true, but the reasons she left that night after their hot kiss at summer camp were so complicated, she didn’t even know where to begin.

  “Your cousins told me you’ve been traveling,” he said flatly. Then he shook his head and added, “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Though…about you leaving. There might be a little problem with that.”

  In her hand, her phone beeped. She glanced at the screen. Maisie had texted back: Glad you’re safe. Stay wherever you are. There’s a wicked storm hitting us hard. I’ll come get you once the roads are clear. Oh…and btw, where are you exactly?

  Penelope blinked, processing that. “No, this cannot be happening.” She rushed to the bedroom window and found a winter wonderland outside. “There’s a storm?”

  “A bad one,” Darryl said, behind her. “We’re going to have to ride this out. Unless you know of anyone with a snow mobile?”

  “I don’t know anyone here but my cousins, and I know they don’t have one.” Penelope glanced around, suddenly very aware that she stood in the bedroom of the guy who gave her a kiss she couldn’t ever forget, and his bed was right there. “How long do we have to wait before the storm clears?” she asked, staying focused.

  “Hmm…” Darryl sidled up next to her, and the masculine sandalwood scent of his cologne infused the air as he said, “By the looks of the clouds, I’d say we’re in for another few inches of snow within the next couple hours.”

  Penelope pressed her face to the window and studied the sky. “You can seriously tell that?”

  He chuckled.

  She turned to him and frowned. “You’re pulling my leg?”

  “Just a little tug.” He winked, leaning his shoulder against the wall, hand tucked into his pocket. “The weather station said we’re likely to get hammered throughout the day and into the night. Hopefully the snow will stop in the early morning and then the plows can get the roads cleared.”

  She blinked. “Wait a second. Are you saying…?”

  “That’s right. You get another night with Ebenezer.” He grinned before he turned away and left the bedroom. When he returned, he had a pair of tights and a T-shirt in his hands. “Thought you might want something a little more comfortable.”

  God, only then was Penelope reminded she still wore her clothes from last night. Clothes that suddenly made her feel dirty and disgusting. Classy, Penelope. So friggin’ classy! But soon that thought faded away as she realized he’d handed her another woman’s clothing. His ex-wife’s? Maisie told Penelope when Darryl married after college, and she also told her when he divorced six months ago. Penelope eyed the clothing in her hands.

  Darryl gave another low laugh. “They’re my sister Ashley’s clothes,” he explained gently. “She lives in England right now with her boyfriend but stays here when she visits and always forgets some of her stuff.” His gaze traveled her body all the way to Penelope’s toes and then back up to her face. “You look about the same size.�
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  “Gotcha. Okay, thanks,” Penelope said, cursing her now puckering nipples.

  He gestured at the hallway with a flick of his chin. “The bathroom is the second door on the right. Take a shower, a bath, whatever you want. I’ll make us breakfast.”

  Penelope nodded, staring into the warmth of his eyes. Most men Penelope could read easily. They were always looking for one thing—which, usually, she was too—but this guy didn’t seem like someone who would stop once his own itch was scratched. Darryl seemed like the type who took his time with a woman because he cared that she left his bed satisfied.

  Not why you’re here!

  He slowly arched an eyebrow. “Problem?”

  “Nope, not a single one,” she said, and strode past him.

  One night. Then she’d be outta there. Easy-peasy.

  The upstairs water running through the pipes turned off, and Darryl placed another log into the wood-burning fireplace in his small living room of his 18th century home. His mother, as a single parent, had purchased the property back when Darryl was five years old, and he’d lived in the house ever since. Minus the time he’d spent in Denver for college then police academy, but with all its little quirks like creaky floorboards and loud pipes, this was home. The three-bedroom house wasn’t impressive by any means, but it had good bones and old-fashioned charm with thick baseboards, a large stone fireplace mantel, and even gingerbread trim along the wrap-around front porch.

  The firewood crackled and popped when a sudden creak came behind him. Damn, his sister and her tight clothes. The T-shirt hugged Penelope’s body, accentuating every luscious curve, drawing his full attention. Her hair was damp around her makeup-free face. She momentarily stunned him. He’d thought she’d grown into a beautiful woman before, but all natural seemed ever better. Fresher. Realer, somehow. “How do you take your coffee?” he asked, moving toward the kitchen off to the right of the living room.

  “Cream only,” she answered behind him.

  He stepped into the small eat-in kitchen with the round oak table that hadn’t changed since Darryl was a kid. After taking a mug off the bamboo countertop, he hurried to make her coffee how she liked it. On his way into the living room again, he grabbed the plate with a blueberry muffin and cut-up fruit. He found her on the brown leather couch in front of the fire, with the fuzzy blanket his sister bought him one year for Christmas settled over her lap. Her gaze, disappointingly, was not on him; it was on Ebenezer, who death-stared at her from the chair across from her.

  “He’ll only bite if you sit on his chair,” Darryl said, handing her the mug and plate.

  She lifted a single eyebrow at him. “He can have that chair, and the rest of the house for that matter. Is he always so mean?”

  “Yup, he was that way when we found him.”

  She watched Ebenezer while she sipped her coffee then lifted her mug at Darryl after her sip. “Thanks for breakfast, by the way.”

  Darryl smiled. “Quite welcome.”

  She placed her coffee mug down on the table then unwrapped the muffin. “Not to be rude or anything, but can I ask why you got a cat like him?” She gave Ebenezer a quick look then lowered her voice like the cat could understand her. “I mean, he’s cute in a feral cat kinda way, but seriously, what’s got him so pissed off?”

  Darryl grabbed his mug and his plate from the coffee table he’d set down earlier, then dropped beside her. “I had no part in bringing Ebenezer into this family. That was all Tyson.”

  “Who’s Tyson?” She bit into the muffin.

  “Penelope, meet Tyson.” He gestured to the big lazy bloodhound lying in front of the fireplace, sprawled out like he was sun tanning. “He’s the station’s search-and-rescue dog, but don’t be fooled, he owns me.”

  She smiled and then chewed a bit before asking, “Okay, so how did Tyson find Ebenezer?”

  Darryl finished his sip of coffee, returning his mug to the table. “Ty sniffed him out behind a dumpster.” The day after Natalie left their marriage to go home to Wisconsin to be with her family. “He was in bad shape, so I brought him back here, and Ty and I nursed him back to health.”

  “Okay, seriously nice of you, but”—Penelope frowned at the cat—“I actually think he wants to kill me.”

  “It’s not just you,” Darryl reassured her. “It’s everyone.”

  “Even you?” she asked with wide eyes.

  To prove his point, Darryl rose, still holding onto his plate, and got close to the cat. Ebenezer’s hair stood straight up, and he hissed like a rabid animal. “He hates me as much as he hates anyone. The only one he tolerates is Ty. Sometimes I see them sleeping together when they think I’m not looking.” Darryl returned to his seat next to her. “But to be honest, I think he’s just cold and uses Ty for warmth.”

  Penelope studied the cat who began licking his paw, with his glare still set on her. “Not to sound insensitive or anything, but why do you keep a cat who hates you?”

  Darryl barked a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “You say that like I have some authority over him. He is the owner of this house. Don’t let yourself believe anything different.”

  She smiled softly then frowned at the cat. “Is he scowling at me?”

  “Yup,” Darryl confirmed, taking a bite of his muffin.

  “Okay, so that’s weird.” She turned her attention to her breakfast. They ate in silence, and Darryl took the opportunity to eat his two muffins and half a plate of fruit before she said, “I guess I should probably thank you for taking care of me last night.”

  He glanced sideways, examining her piercing eyes. “You always get three sheets to the wind?”

  She held his gaze firmly. “Why did you and your wife break up?”

  His mouth twitched at her deflection. Yeah, she was setting him straight well enough—it’d been ten years and he had no business asking anything personal. But he had nothing to hide, not a damn thing. “Natalie and I began dating the fall after you and I shared that intense kiss.” He liked the way her cheeks heated at the reminder that no, he had not forgotten how sweet she tasted that night. “We married about a year after college. By the time our twenty-fifth birthdays rolled around, we were two different people. By our twenty-seventh birthdays, we had become two of the very best friends. By twenty-nine, Natalie fell in love with someone else, and by thirty, we were divorced.”

  Penelope shut her parted lips, then eventually said, “Wow. Look at you just putting everything out there like that.”

  “It is what it is,” he replied with a shrug. “Besides, I’m surprised you already don’t know everything about everyone. This town is full of gossipers, and I have no doubt your cousins are among them.”

  She regarded him intently as she took another nibble of her muffin. “Well, of course, I knew you were divorced, but Maisie didn’t say what happened.” She rubbed her fingers together over the plate, dusting off the muffin crumbs, then she gave a small shrug. “I guess fair is fair. To answer your question, no, I don’t always drink like that, but me and Christmas have problems.”

  “What kind of problems?”

  “The music, the endless joy shoved down your throat, the angry shoppers. All of it.”

  At that, he cracked a smile. “You were the one singing Christmas carols last night.”

  She winced. “Yeah, let’s pretend that didn’t happen.”

  His smile widened. “Not sure you’ll be able to forget that. And neither will the people who videoed you on their cell phones.”

  “Great.” She let out a long heavy sigh, dropping her head back onto the couch. “Video evidence is the worst kind of evidence.”

  “Not in my line of work, it’s not.”

  She gave a little nod of agreement.

  He became curious. “So, you got drunk to survive Christmas?”

  She nodded and gave a cute smile. “And apparently, I also skated on fountains in high heels.”

  “It was impressive, I gotta say.”

  “More like
embarrassing.” She hid her face in her hands and muttered something incoherent before saying clearly, “I’m never going to hear the end of it once Clara finds out.” She lowered her hands and gave him a tight look. “I mean, Amelia will probably just smooth things over like she does, and Maisie will laugh then try and support me, but Clara is going to murder me.” She raised her fingers and did quotations marks. “‘Penelope, we have a reputation in River Rock. Don’t mess that up.’”

  “That’s Clara, I take it?”

  Penelope nodded and her eyes cast downward.

  “Ah, it wasn’t so bad,” he said, trying to reassure her. He’d seen people do far more embarrassing things when they were drunk, including naked things. “Well, maybe your singing was pretty terrible, but you can live that down.”

  “Hey!” She picked up a throw pillow next to her and tossed it at him. “My singing is just fine, thank you very much.”

  Good, he had her laughing. Her singing was actually great.

  She took another nibble of her muffin, staring into the fire, while Ty snored loudly, before she addressed him again. “How about you? Is Christmas a big thing for you?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “I’m a cop; we do a lot for the community throughout the holidays.” Then something more important occurred to him. “Why aren’t you with your family this Christmas?”

  She tossed the last piece of muffin into her mouth. “No one wanted me there.”

  He stilled, looking for any hint of hurt in her expression. He found none. “What do you mean, no one wanted you?”

  She stared blankly at the flickering flames. “My mom told me she thought it was best that I didn’t come home for Christmas this year. My dad said he was traveling, even though I know he isn’t.” She turned to face him again, and her honest soft smile indicated to him that being hurt by her parents was a regular occurrence. “They divorced that year I met you. That’s why they pulled me out of camp to come home.”

  Damn, he’d wondered so many times why she’d left so abruptly. He wondered if he’d come on too strong. Now he had his answer. And he almost wished the real reason was because he’d scared her off.