by Sabrina York
Tori took a deep breath and let it out. Matt had seen the moment of her greatest humiliation for what it was. Had anyone else seen it so clearly? She squeezed his hand in hers. “I have an opening in my heart if you’d like to apply,” she smiled.
As they went in for a kiss, Diesel barked in impatience. They kissed anyhow.
12
The red velvet Maid of Honor dress swished as Tori walked down the hall with Maddy and the bridesmaids towards the big room where the wedding would be held. She felt pretty in the dress and even though this was Maddy’s big day, the dress gave her a sense of confidence she needed when all eyes drifted towards her and the bridesmaids who were dressed in their green velvet dresses.
As she walked slowly down the aisle behind Maddy, Tori caught sight of Matt in a suit and was happy they’d had the last twenty-four hours together to talk and gain footing in their budding relationship. Her eye caught his and she thought he winked ever so slightly. If the man she’d gotten to know this week was a true representation of who Matt Kingfisher was, Tori knew she was a lucky woman to have caught his eye. They’d talked about staying on after the wedding to play in the snow and spend Christmas together at her mother’s house in Mistletoe.
“My parents know not to expect me until later in the week,” Matt said as his way of saying yes.
Tori wasn’t sure if he was offering to spend Christmas with her because she had nowhere to go this year, or if he genuinely wanted to spend the holiday at her mother’s house in town but she wasn’t going to question it. She’d made him swear that he wanted to stay on in Mistletoe for Christmas day and he’d sworn up and down he did. They’d decided to move down the road to her childhood home on the twenty-fifth to cook a turkey, build a fire and eat until they were bursting.
They’d even made a plan that Tori would look after Diesel while Matt visited his parents later in the week. People in her building had dogs and she was sure there was no rule about having pets. Having Diesel reassured her that Matt would come back after he saw his family. It might take a while for Tori to completely trust another man, but she was sure if anyone deserved to be trusted it was Matt.
As she stood at the front of the room with Maddy, listening to the vows her best friend had written for her wedding, Tori knew that they only way to move forward was to bravely open her heart again.
At the reception, Tori watched Matt from her chair at the head table, counting the minutes until the dancing started and she could find her way to the dance floor with Matt. He kept looking over at her and smiling, an expression that made her feel all warm and safe.
Matt was a good dancer and Tori fit into his arms perfectly as they danced under the twinkling Christmas lights of the great room. She thought about the Christmas window at Nordstrom’s and the couple who danced in the snow. She thought about the strange feeling that had overcome her that day, standing on the street, watching the dancers and thinking about if anyone would ever love her the way she hoped to be loved. She thought about the first time she looked into Matt’s dark eyes and saw something profoundly intriguing, something she’d never experienced before. Someday she hoped to be able to admit to Matt that she believed that some form of divine intervention had led her to him and brought them together. The feeling that she needed to get on with her life, the challenge, meeting Matt twice near the Bean, then finding out he was a friend of Clint’s. So many pieces fit together to make Tori believe in the magic of Christmas.
Tori was both exhilarated and exhausted by eleven o’clock and knew she’d barely make it another hour if she didn’t catch a second wind. When Matt found her talking to Sasha and Zoe and suggested they take Diesel outside, Tori broke away from her friends. Upstairs, they grabbed their coats and found more appropriate footwear for the snow. Tori traded her expensive, sparkly shoes for snow boots and met Matt in the hall.
Walking through the Mistletoe Lodge front door with Matt, something caught Tori’s eye up above their heads in the rafters of the alcove and for the first time that week she noticed something. A sprig of Mistletoe hung directly above anyone coming or going into the Lodge. It was so far up that it wasn’t easy to see, but Tori was now well aware it was there.
She stopped Matt, pointed to the greenery above them and smiled. “We’re under mistletoe.”
He grinned and took her in his arms, not even looking around to see if anyone was close. “Don’t mind if I do,” he said.
Tori melted into him as their lips met in a passionate kiss that told her this guy wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. His lips were warm and the passion in his kiss made her knees threaten to buckle.
When they pulled apart, Matt sighed against her lips. “You might be the best thing that’s ever happened to me, Tori.”
She had to agree that at this moment, things looked very promising for the doctor with a rescue dog he spoke Haida to. And all because of the Christmas Challenge. And a little Christmas magic.
Very promising indeed.
She leaned in for another kiss and praised the fact she was brave enough to let love into her heart again.
Christmas Eve had proven to be romantic and hopeful, beyond her wildest imagination, and Christmas Day promised to be wonderful as well.
Merry Christmas, indeed.
~ THE END ~
Other Books by Kim Hornsby
Suspense
Dream Jumper Series
The Dream Jumper’s Promise
The Dream Jumper’s Secret
The Dream Jumper’s Pursuit
Girl of his Dream
Dream Come True
Moody & The Ghost Series
Dead Ahead
Batten Down
Coming About
Hoist the Jib
Necessary Detour
Rocky Bluff
Christmas Romances
Maui Kalikimaka
Christmas in Whistler
Christmas in Crystal Creek
Christmas at Mistletoe Lodge Box Set
Find these books and buy links at Kim’s Website
www.bit.ly/KimHornsby
About Kim Hornsby
Kim Hornsby lives in the Seattle area with her husband, two children, two dogs, and thirteen fish. Housekeeping is not her strongest skill and she’s trying to become a successful author to justify why she doesn’t do the dishes.
Her novel THE DREAM JUMPER’S PROMISE was a National Bestseller, an Award-Winner in the Chanticleer Book Reviews Paranormal Awards Contest, nominated for BEST INDIE FIRST BOOK by Indie Romance Convention and has been downloaded over 70.000 times. That novel was optioned for film and Kim hopes to see it on the big screen one day.
As well as Supernatural Suspense, Kim writes Christmas books because everyone needs a little Christmas joy in their lives, no matter the time of year. Also a screenwriter, Kim has two screenplays scheduled to be Christmas Romances on a channel that shares its name with a greeting card company in their 2020 lineup.
Kim is writes from her house overlooking a lake, living inside her head for at least half of her waking hours which can be tricky, but entertaining.
Keep in Touch!
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Kim’s Website: www.bit.ly/KimHornsby
A Southern Lights Christmas
A Southern Lights Christmas
By
Lauren Gayle
Book Description
When a rare winter storm covers their Christmas get-a-way with bone-chilling snow and ice, two strangers are challenged with the reality of winter in a southern town.
Mack, a man from Minnesota, is sick of shoveling snow and books a Christmas vacation at the Southern Lights Mistletoe Lodge in Louisiana. He meets a young widow nam
ed Natalie, there to escape the over-protective smothering of her family. Their first encounter is as cold as the rare Arctic frontal system that covers the south in snow. Will that prevent them from warming to each other through the inconveniences of icy roads, frozen pipes, and power outages?
This story is dedicated to anyone who’s ever loved and lost someone, either by death or break-up. Know that there is always another chance for happiness—and a chance to love and live again.
Also, to all you dog lovers out there, who already know that animals are excellent judges of character. As the previous pet owner of both dogs and cats, all special to me and my family, I’ve experienced this first hand and believe it with all my heart.
My goal for this story and all future ones is for you, the reader, to finish it with a smile on your face. Merry Christmas and thank you in advance for helping us contribute, once more, to St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital . . . whose forever goals are finding cures and saving children.
1
December 20th
“Would you look at all that beautiful green?” Mack Henry stared at the Louisiana landscape below from the plane’s window seat.
“Pardon?”
He turned toward the woman seated beside him. “I’m from northern Minnesota, ma’am and I’ve been shoveling myself out of my front door for a month already. I’m amazed anytime I see green grass in the middle of winter.”
The woman smiled, her eyes glazing over as though she were recalling the past. “I grew up in Wisconsin, dear. I understand completely. I taught school and hired someone to do the shoveling, but getting to and from work on icy roads wore me out.” She leaned over and spoke in a conspiratorial whisper. “I moved south years ago—no regrets.” She winked. “It’s something to think about.”
Mack unbuckled his seat belt as the plane rolled to a dead stop, anxious to feel the warmth of sunshine on his bare skin. “I hear you, ma’am.”
With his heavy overcoat slung over one arm, Mack hefted his duffle and approached a silver-haired man of medium build and his own height of six feet tall, give or take an inch. The man held a sign that read SOUTHERN LIGHTS MISTLETOE LODGE in bold letters. “Are you my welcome wagon?”
The gentleman cocked his head. “Your name, please?”
Mack stopped in front of him, his hand extended. “I’m Mack Henry.”
The other man grinned and shook his hand, his grip strong, obviously accustomed to hard work. “I’m here for you. Drew Brunson, co-owner and proprietor of Southern Lights Mistletoe Lodge.” He winked. “Sorry about that, but a fellow can’t be too careful these days.” He reached for Mack’s duffle. “Is that it?”
Mack waved off his offer and hefted the bag to his shoulder. “Thanks Mr. Brunson, but I’ve got it.”
“Mr. Brunson was my dad and grandad. Call me Drew.”
“Sure, if you promise to call me Mack.”
They approached a forest green van boasting the lodge logo on its sliding door. “How far is it to this lodge?’
“A good forty-minute drive northeast from here. We’re not too far from the Lake Charles metropolis, but secluded enough to be surrounded by nature and all its glory.”
They loaded up and Mack settled into the front passenger seat beside Drew. Within minutes they were driving into south Lake Charles. The older man pulled to a stop at a bustling intersection, grumbled some about afternoon traffic before turning his attention to Mack. “What do you do for a living, son?”
“I’m the project engineer for a structural engineering company.”
Drew faced him. “No kidding? We have a little in common. I was in road construction for forty years.” He veered right on the next street. “This is probably your slow season due to winter weather conditions.”
“It is.” Mack noted they’d headed north again on Highway 14. They crossed I-10, a bridge over English Bayou, and a second over the Calcasieu River before continuing north through Moss Bluff, a bustling little suburb north of Lake Charles. “If you don’t mind me asking, how’d you come up with your lodge’s name? Mistletoe suggests Christmas—and what kind of southern lights do you have around here?”
“My wife always claimed the night time view from our backyard rivaled the Aurora Borealis. She started calling it our own southern light show. We’ve been trying to control the mistletoe growing wild in oaks on the property for thirty years. Our kids heard me fuss about it so much they started calling it the Mistletoe Lodge when they were young.” He met Mack’s gaze, his eyes sparkling with humor. “When we get there you can see for yourself.”
Twenty more minutes of small talk had them turning onto a paved road headed into a dense woody area. Mack sighed at the abundance of green.
“You beginning to regret the location? I know it looks like we’re surrounded by woods but we’re really not all that isolated.”
The space reverberated with Mack’s low chuckle. “I’m amazed at all this green in the middle of winter.”
“Technically, we’re just starting winter—first day today. Heck, we ran the AC last week it got so humid.”
Mack grunted. “We’ve experienced winter for a few months already. When I left home there wasn’t a spot of green to be seen, not even from the plane. I couldn’t stand the thought of another Christmas with a snow blower for company.” He looked at Drew. “I needed a break.” Curious about their destination, Mack continued his line of questioning. “This lodge of yours—was it built specifically as a bed and breakfast?”
Mack grinned. “No, it started as a summer and winter getaway cabin when our kids were young. What realtors today describe as a ‘rustic fixer upper’. We expanded over the years, even added a second story. Once our three kids left the nest we sold the place to a couple who turned it into a bed and breakfast. It broke our hearts to get rid of it, so I asked them if they ever decided to sell to give us first choice. Five years later, when the wife and I both retired from our full time jobs we bought it back from them.” He turned onto a gravel road, splayed his fingers on the steering wheel. “We sold our house, gave the lodge a facelift and some upgrades and turned it into a thriving business for the last ten years. It’s been good to us, but I’m ready for a change.”
“A new business venture?”
“Heck no! I’ve about convinced the wife it’s time to do some traveling. I’m seventy years old and still haven’t seen the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, or Mount Rushmore. I plan to do that before I die.”
“You don’t look like you’re ready for the bone-yaahd.” Mack put a New England spin on the word, drawing a round of hearty laughter from Drew.
“Not yet, but our friends are all dropping like flies hit with shots of bug spray. I don’t want to take any chances.”
Mack couldn’t argue with that, so he kept quiet until they pulled into a clearing on a few acres of open land. He whistled in appreciation at the large, two-storied log cabin flanked on one side by a towering oak. The van stopped in front of wooden steps connected to a deep, porch, railed on both sides and spanning the entire width of the house. It held several heavy wooden rockers, large potted poinsettias and Norfolk pines, all glittering with tiny, clear lights. Bright red bows hyphenated lengths of green garland, for a warm, festive appearance. A large yellow dog rose from the porch deck and barked a greeting, its fluffy tail fanning the air exuberantly.
“That’s old Duke. He used to be my hunting buddy before we both grew too old and full of aches.”
“Golden Retriever?”
“Yep.”
“Are you partial to that breed for hunting?”
“Not really.” Drew grinned at him. “Partial to Duke, in particular, I guess.” They exited the van and Drew leaned over to ruffle the dog’s fur. “How you doing today, old man?”
Mack lowered to one knee, extended his hand to the large dog whose muzzle shined with silver. “Hey boy, you’re getting up there in age, aren’t you?” The dog warmed to him instantly, its huge fluffy tail wagging in appreciation at Mack�
�s attention.
“He’s twelve years old and if that bunk about dog years is true, he’s got me beat by fourteen years already.” Drew pointed at the oak next to the lodge. “You see the clusters of mistletoe in that tree?” He continued at Mack’s nod. “The darn parasite loves that old oak and others on the property. But our trees are hearty, so the damage is minimal.”
Mack grabbed his bag and followed Drew inside. He studied the lodge’s typical but pristine log cabin style interior, decorated to the hilt for the Christmas season. A huge living area filled with a mixture of overstuffed cloth and leather furniture circled the room’s focal point, a massive stone fireplace. Every single detail in the room screamed Welcome, relax, and enjoy your time with us. He walked over to a huge Christmas tree decorated beautifully with elements found in nature, and interspersed with small wooden duck decoys. He examined one closely, flipped it over to see D.B. on the bottom. “Is carving a hobby of yours, Drew?”
Drew appeared at his side. “My grandpa used to carve his own wooden duck decoys back in the day. My dad picked it up from him and I did the same. Beth asked me years ago to make some miniatures for the tree. I’ve carved no less than four or five a year for the last twenty years.”