Christmas at Mistletoe Lodge: New Holiday Romances to Benefit St. Jude Hospital

by Sabrina York

  “And he should want me to be happy.” She crossed her arms and put out a lip, making me think of her as she was. Young and afraid.

  “Yes. Yes, he should. And if you ever fall in love with a man who doesn’t want you to be happy…run.”

  It seemed as though she was listening, she was nodding and making I see kinds of noises, but then she took off on a completely different topic. “And my parents.” She gusted. “Hah! They just laugh and say it’s puppy love. They say someone my age can’t possibly know it’s true love, but they don’t know.”

  “I know.”

  She looked up at me then, all young and fresh-faced and beautiful and in love. I remembered the feeling. I missed it.

  “I fell in love with a boy when I was your age too, you know.”

  “You did?”

  I nodded. “Right here, in fact.” My smile wobbled.

  “Did it work out for you?”

  I had to tell her the truth. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  Why not? Good question. “I’m not sure. I was young. He was young. But now…” Now, we weren’t kids anymore.

  “But now?” Farley asked. How quickly her attention leap-frogged from her own melodrama to mine. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that last part out loud. “Well?”

  I gusted a breath. Maybe I needed someone to talk to too. Someone who didn’t know me and really didn’t give a shit about me. “Okay. Well. It just so happens that the guy I met here, loved here—when I was your age—just walked back into my life. How do you like them apples?”

  For some reason, she grinned.

  I frowned at her.

  “I think it’s amazing,” she said; her face welled with the glow of all that youthy stuff.

  “How is it amazing?” Oh my God, it had been horrible seeing him again and… Well, maybe horrible wasn’t the word. Difficult? Yes. Challenging? Certainly. Exciting?

  Probably that too, damn his hide.

  “What’s amazing?” She made this thing I can only guess was known as the Farley Face. “Because you have another chance! It’s not too late! It’s never too late. That’s what I mean. Even when you’re super-old, there is still hope for love.”

  “Wait. Did you just call me super-old?”

  “Ah! It’s so romantic. Don’t you see? If Jamison and I can’t be together now…there’s always tomorrow. Oh, yes. Tomorrow.”

  Frankly, I was surprised she didn’t burst into song just then, but she did leap from her chair, twirl around the hearth, and then dance from the room. She paused at the door, looked back at me, and cheerily called, “Thank you, Servant Lady,” before she disappeared.

  I barely had time to stand before an ominous chuckle surrounded me. I whirled to find Coop standing there, in the shadows, leaning lazily on the wall. “That was a good story,” he said, reaching down a hand to help me up.

  “Thank you.” I gave him a mock bow. “All part of the service.”

  He ignored my blasé tone. “Was it true?”

  “Was what true?” Hadn’t he learned by now that I never paid attention to things I said?

  He stepped closer. Closer still. “Were you in love with me?”

  My lungs froze. Shit. Had I said that? What had I been thinking? “I think you misheard.”

  “No. I didn’t.” He tipped his head and surveyed me. “Were you in love with me? Because I was in love with you.”

  “And Barbie. Don’t forget Barbie.”

  He raked his fingers through his hair. “I wish I could. Vic, this isn’t about Barbie.”

  I set my hands on my hips, trying to remain calm. Remote. Professional. It was kind of sawing on my last nerve. “You loved me…but you left?”

  “You told me to leave. You said…you didn’t want me anymore.”

  “I never said that.”

  His expression tightened. He tapped his forehead. “It’s burned on my brain.”

  “Well, if I said that, I probably didn’t mean it.”

  “Probably?”

  “I was a kid, for Christ sake. Angry. Hurt. Who knows what I said?”

  “I know. I remember.”

  “Well, I did want you to leave. I was heartbroken.”

  He took me in his arms and held me even more gently. “I am so sorry, Vic. I wish I’d known.”

  Damn it. I hated this. This sympathy hugging shit.

  I pulled away. Tipped up my chin. “So now you know.”

  “Now I know.” His grin broke. It transformed his face. “You were in love with me. Ah!” He stopped me before I could deny it. “I heard you tell Farley. And I heard her tell you how awesome it is that we have another chance. Don’t you see that, Vic? It’s true.”

  Was it? Was it really?

  “But I’m super-old.” I did my best Wendy Whiner.

  He snickered. “If you’re super-old, I’m right there with you.” He leaned in to kiss me, but before our lips met in a blaze of glory, Mungo cleared his throat. Apparently he was right behind us.

  “They’re ready to go, boss,” he said.

  Coop affected a Highlander’s scowl, but I could tell he was playing. “Och! Dammit all anyway. Just when I had the wee lass where I wanted her.” He released me with a flourish and headed out the room, booming, “Foiled again, dear Yorick. Foiled again.”

  Such a doofus. There were no Highlanders in Hamlet.

  But I loved him.

  God help me.

  I loved him.

  10

  The plan for the afternoon for the guests was that some would go shopping (mostly the females) and the others would go skiing. The plan for the afternoon for the staff was to clear lunch, make up beds, clean all the suites, sanitize, clean up the occasional teen-aged guest vomit, sanitize again, set up for dinner, and then completely transform a fairly normal great room in a luxury chalet into a fairy paradise. Fortunately, I had all faith that Ken Nora was the man for the job. When he heard what we were doing, Jaxon decided to stay back and help us because decorating was his jam.

  On the one hand, it was a bummer to have one of the guests present, because we all had to stay on our best behavior—and where’s the fun in that? But on the other hand, Jaxon was a pretty funny guy. He had a sharp wit and an undeniable flair. And once we warmed up to each other—you know, got a feel for each other’s foibles and limits—we really had a blast.

  With all of us chipping in, and with Ken’s clever idea to use the white Christmas decorations as a base for the Fairy Ball décor, it didn’t take long to layer colorful scarves here and there with tiny invisible fans making them ruffle like feathers. Bling sparkled throughout the room. With that, and little disco lights colliding through just a hint of fog…it was magical.

  I’d never seen anything so pretty, although in the decorating of it, Jed got all tangled up in the lights. Ken had to help him untangle because I was laughing too hard. And then, when I was exhausted from that, I started having the kinds of thoughts I couldn’t share in a work environment.

  In short, I was thinking of Coop in that situation, and how much I would enjoy it. You have to admit, the thought of a hot, muscular, sexy man all tangled up in Christmas lights, all helpless like a kitten is kind of tempting, isn’t it?

  Yeah. Thinking like that sometimes gets me through the day.

  After Ken no longer needed me, I went to see how Noel was doing with Christmas dinner. I nearly stumbled to my knees when the aroma in the kitchen hit me. My mouth began to drool.

  “My God. What are you making?”

  Noel glanced at me. “Roast Beef. Yorkshire Pudding. Ze menu. Oui?”

  “I meant it smells very good.”

  “Bon. Merci.” He bent down over his cell phone screen, snorted, and swiped vigorously.

  “Is something wrong?” I asked. Normally Eden’s chefs were well versed in all possible requests—in the sense that they rarely, if ever, had to look things up on the internet.

  Apparently, my simple question set him off. “Mon dieu, Victoria! ’Ow
am I to do zis? A vegan Christmas? ’Ow am I to make Christmas vegan? Zere is no fatted goose, no roast beef, no Yorkshire pudding?”

  “How about something with kale?” I like to consider myself helpful, but apparently he didn’t appreciate it. He merely sniffed and headed back to his desperate scrolling.

  I stayed with him throughout dinner prep and it was astonishing how many times he nearly broke down. Darcy’s name was mentioned more than once.

  I knew I couldn’t complete this dinner without him, so I rode him like a pony, whispering encouragement and things like “Oublie-la. Elle est une vipère pour ton âme” and “Vous êtes un génie. Vous êtes le maître des arts culinaires.” So yes. My schoolgirl French does come in handy, on occasion, when chefs need fluffing for their performance.

  Dinner was, without a doubt, a complete success. Noel was so pleased with the praise he received when he brought dessert, he headed right back into the kitchen and started on a magnifique Christmas cake for tomorrow.

  As for me and mine, we split in two when the guests left the table, half of us clearing and finalizing set up for the Fairy Ball and half of us going with the ladies to help them dress.

  They’d brought a ton of luggage. Gotta wonder what kinds of costumes those numerous suitcases held. I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

  Farley came down first—after sending Eliza down to let someone with a camera know she was coming and be ready. She wore an amazing blue fairy costume with large iridescent blue wings. The color made her eyes pop. She was beautiful.

  Instinctively, I began to clap, and the others followed suit. We played it this way as each member of the party came down the stairs and modeled their costumes. Not all fairies, as it seemed. Jaxon had done an elaborate facemask—in makeup. I would have sworn he was a real-life elf. Tressa and Keiko came as ice princesses (again, an assumption, because they looked the parts), Jamison dressed as a prince of some kind—judging from the red robe and crown, and Lola was a mushroom.

  Whit came disguised as a cowboy. Apparently, one who likes whiskey. A lot.

  From then on it was tops and tips—just keeping them happy, topping off drinks, and earning those tips. Easy-peasy, lemon-squeezy.

  I was really surprised when it worked out that way.

  It rarely worked out that way.

  But everyone had a wonderful time—no one threw up, no one stepped on the dog, and Farley and Jamison had, apparently, made up. As the party petered out, they headed off together for a private chat. I really hoped they were able to work it out.

  Once the room was empty, Ken Nora clapped his hands. “All right, everyone. Let’s get this back to Christmas, shall we?”

  Ah, yes. Romance aside, there was a life to be lived. And we embraced that life with both hands, bringing down that fairy tale fantasy with a fervor that caused Ken to squawk, “Hey, guys. Take it easy with my stuff.”

  Personally, I think it’s more fun taking things down than putting them up. Don’t you?

  At any rate, the precious fairy tale decorations were down and wrapped in cotton wool in special boxes and then stored away for next time. Once that was done, there was only minor sprucing up to do, a quick check on the guests, and then I needed to touch base with Noel about tomorrow’s breakfast. The first two were easy. The third, not so much.

  Noel was already asleep.

  With a heavy sigh, I headed for bed myself. I was pleased to find it had been pre-warmed by a very sexy—and, dare I say, naked—brick of a man.

  He was still awake. We pretended I was an escaping princess who’d accidentally wandered into the sheikh’s tent. It was kinda fun.

  I had to get up super early Christmas morning, so I tried not to disturb Coop as I disentangled myself. He was all toasty and the room was cold. I wanted nothing more than to slip back under the covers, curl up against him, and just be together.

  But I had tables to set and cinnamon rolls to warm.

  I dressed and hurried to the guest house…to find the guests were already awake, Noel had prepared the brunch, and Olivia and Wren were already serving. They hadn’t waited for me.

  OMG. They’d taken initiative. My babies! I think I felt my heart grow six sizes just then.

  Naturally, I didn’t make a fuss when I came in. I just quietly asked Wren, “How’s it going?”

  “Good,” she said.

  And then, I had to add, because it was coming out no matter what, “Great job, you two.” In tandem, they blushed.

  I rode that I’m-a-great-boss high all through brunch. So it was especially wonderful that—at the end of that elaborate meal—Olivia Ann Tully, Samantha “Wren” Parker, and Jed Wentwhistle (like wet whistle, but with an N), witnessed one of the most spectacular moments that have ever occurred in all of known history.

  They saw—with their own eyes—actor Jamison Smith go down on one knee and propose to Farley. The Farley.

  I mean, really. A celebrity proposal.

  I was very proud when Olivia didn’t faint.

  Farley gave a teary acceptance and the two shared promises and apologies they’d written out, making clear this was a staged presentation.

  What a pity there were no cameras to catch it all.

  Perhaps they hadn’t been thorough enough in their planning…

  Oh. But no. There she was. Carmella. Catching it all on her camera phone from the corner.

  When they finished reading their proposal…vows?, they kissed and after that everyone flooded in for a hug.

  I barely grabbed Wren in time when she followed.

  “Perhaps we should get some champagne ready,” I suggested which sent them all running for the Baccarat. In my head I yelled, No running with the Baccarat! But I yelled it really loud. I think they must have heard me, because they slowed down. A little.

  Someone warm and yummy-smelling sidled up behind me, and I eased back into him.

  How did I know it was him? His scent? His energy? Our chemistry? I don’t know. Maybe all of it. Or maybe I was just drawn to him like filings to a magnet. This is where I belong, my soul sings when I’m near him. This is where I can be me.

  He felt like home.

  “So. Do you think they’re ready?” Coop whispered into my ear.

  I glanced back at Farley and Jamison, surrounded as they were by well-wishers and sycophants. “They look happy.” It was…an answer.

  “But do you think they stand a chance? Honestly?”

  “Nope,” I said. “No way.”

  “Really?” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “Why?”

  “Look at them. They’re too young. Too immature. Why? Do you think they have a chance?”

  “You never know,” he said with a kiss to my hair. “You never do. If things had been just a little different for us we might have made it.”

  “Just a little different?” That was implausible at best.

  “If I hadn’t left. If you hadn’t told me to go…who knows what might have happened?”

  “But it is a moot point. The past is the past. What’s done is done.”

  “What happened to the woman who believes in second chances?”

  “I believe you’re talking about Farley.”

  His hold tightened, just incrementally. “Don’t you believe in second chances?” The poignancy in his tone struck me.

  I turned around and found myself in his hold. “I suppose I do.” Untrue. I only hoped. And it was the hope that usually undid me. Hope was a scary thing sometimes.

  I was saved from further exploratory probing when Farley cried, “Oh yes. Yes!” from amidst her knot of admirers. Then she looked over at me and my heart dropped like an anchor. Because I knew that look. She was about to ask for something impossible.

  “Could you do that?”

  As this question was definitely directed at me, I smiled and said, “Do what?” because—call me crazy—I prefer specifics in situations like this before I say yes.

  Farley’s eyes shone. “Can we have the wedding here? Tomor
row?”

  Oh. A wedding tomorrow? Is that all?

  “Of course, we can do that for you.”

  Olivia did faint then, but fortunately, she was next to Jed and he caught her.

  Teamwork. Yay!

  All right. Today was Christmas day. They wanted a wedding tomorrow. Tomorrow.

  My smile kind of froze on my face. How on earth was I going to pull this off?

  First of all, I needed to get out of here. I asked my staff to cover for me and headed back to the servants’ quarters to panic in private.

  Coop followed me back to our kitchen. When I dropped into a chair with my head in hands, he was right there with me.

  “They want a pastor and a string quartet. Where am I going to get a string quartet on Christmas Day?”

  “Be glad they didn’t ask for doves,” he said, nodding at the mounds of snow on the windowsills.

  I glared at him. “Be nice. And let me think.”

  “Mungo’s an ordained minister.”

  I gaped at him for a second. “What?”

  “Yeah. He was ordained online, but it’s legal.”

  “Coop, I don’t even know if they have a license.”

  “Do you care?”

  Of their own accord, my lips curled. “If they don’t, they’ll have to do all this again.”

  He chuckled. “And that would be a problem for these people…why?”

  Okay. That got me. I laughed and magically, all my stress melted away. This was going to be the fanciest most fantabulous wedding ever, whether it was legal or not. He kissed me and headed out to check on the snowmobiles that had been delivered for tomorrow. Because tomorrow was now a wedding, we shifted snow play to today to give us a chance to breathe.

  While Coop and his team took the more adventurous guests out on snowmobiles, I started making calls. I was able to reach a local church that had a string quartet (of high school students) willing to come out and perform the day after Christmas. I nearly kissed my cell phone at that. Then Ken and I put our heads together over the decorations, but I’ll be honest and say he did most of the work. He’s kind of a genius that way.