Mistletoe Inn

by Jacquie Biggar

  He nodded. “Christmas ain’t big, but it’s got about everything a person could need. We’ll be getting busy soon. Tourists love to visit Santa’s workshop, and then there’s the Light Up Parade and holiday dance.” He paused and sank into a chair with a sigh. “We go all out for the tourists during the winter season, we need the business to keep the town alive.”

  She could understand that. Her job in the hospitality industry had shown how much people valued their getaways. It was the main reason she’d made the decision to sink her finances into this project. But, she hadn’t planned on Noah.

  Noah leaned back and rested his weary body against the plush softness of his aunt’s favorite chair. He could remember many evenings spent in the den listening to her soft voice asking him about his day. She’d always shown a real interest in his thoughts and aspirations. After the fire and his parents’ death, he’d been angry at the world. She’d visited him at the hospital, even though he refused to speak, and when it was time for him to leave, he’d come here—to the inn.

  He stared at Molly and fancied the fire was caught in the gold of her hair, turning it into a shimmering halo as she bent over to speak to her son. Though her injuries were worse than Leo’s, she’d ignored them to make sure he was safe. Molly McCarty was a good mother.

  “Looks like he’s giving up on us.” He smiled as Leo fought the valiant fight to keep his eyes open.

  Molly kissed his brow, only wincing a little. “He’s been a trooper through all of this. We drove for five days to get here and he never once complained.”

  Noah recalled his aunt mentioning she lived in Alberta. “Why drive? A plane would have been faster, safer too in the winter.” He didn’t have to say she was a female on her own, she must have read it in his eyes.

  “Are you a chauvinist, Mr. Kincaid?”

  He almost grinned at the indignant tone of her voice. “No, ma’am. I’m a realist. I’d wager you haven’t changed very many tires on the side of a busy highway in twenty below weather.” He sat up to make his point. “And even if you have, you’re still vulnerable just by virtue of being a female. It’s a dangerous world out there, Molly. You can’t always trust strangers to help.”

  “Like you?” she snapped, on the offensive. Then she sighed. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. You’re right. In hindsight it was probably not the wisest decision.”

  “You made it. That’s the main thing.” He was surprised by how much it mattered to him. He barely knew this woman and her son, and he sure as hell didn’t want to be concerned about them. Everyone he’d cared about was gone.

  “Thanks to you.” She met his gaze and something intimate passed between them.

  Noah cleared his throat and stood. “Tomorrow’s going to be a big day. Want me to carry the little guy to bed?”

  She looked down at Leo who’d fallen asleep against her chest. “Please. Can you recommend a doctor for him? I’m worried about that bump on his forehead.”

  “Sure. My aunt’s family doc is great. I’m sure he’ll see both of you.” He stared pointedly at her collarbone.

  She smiled, and butterflies swirled in his stomach. “Thanks for everything, Noah. Let’s start fresh tomorrow, okay?”

  When she smiled like that he was ready to agree to anything she asked. He was in so much trouble.

  Chapter 6

  Molly woke to the aroma of bacon and toast the next morning. She rolled over and bumped into Leo. He might only be three feet tall, but he still managed to take up most of the queen-size pedestal bed. The down comforter was feather light, the mattress thick and plush. She felt like a princess in the traditionally styled bedroom. A chiffonier with an old-fashioned mirror filled a nook. Her purse rested on top of a six-drawer dresser with intricately scrolled woodwork and a white and red crocheted runner to match the bedding. Shiplap gave texture to the walls, and warm oak planking covered the floor. Their luggage sat by the door. She flushed, remembering her host showing up at the door with the bags last night. As aloof as he’d seemed, they would have been lost without his help. It was apparent he’d been close to his aunt and missed her. She wondered about his scars. The disfigurement served to add interest to a strong face. They didn’t bother her, but she could tell by the way he kept his face averted, it did him.

  She brushed her son’s bangs back and was relieved to see the swelling had come down on his forehead. The cut seemed to be mending nicely under the butterfly bandage Noah had applied to the injury, but the bruising was worrisome.

  She left Leo sleeping and rose, grimacing at her disheveled appearance in the beveled mirror. Her hair lay flattened against the right side of her head while the left looked as though she’d stuck her finger in a light socket. Attractive. At least she had a change of clothes.

  “Bathroom is at the end of hall,” Noah had said, nodding toward an open door on the opposite side and two rooms down. “We’re booked up next week, but you have this floor to yourself for now.”

  She’d wanted to ask where he slept but thought it might seem too forward. “Thank you. For everything. When I think what could have happened…”

  “But didn’t.”

  Noah’s voice sent a quiver to her belly. She looked up and lost herself in his dark eyes. “No, it didn’t. Thank the Lord.”

  He blinked and took a step back, breaking the spell. “I don’t think He had much to do with it. I’ll see you downstairs when you’re done.” He turned and strode away, leaving her to wonder if he was as disillusioned as he seemed.

  Molly found clean clothes for Leo and a cranberry red sweater and blue jeans for herself—no socks though, they must be in her other bags—and after a last glance at her sleeping son, eased the door open and hurried down the short hall to the washroom. Rather than the soothing bath her body craved, she hurried through a quick shower, combed towel-damp hair back with her fingers and called it good enough—that coffee was calling her name.

  She followed her nose and found the kitchen on the main floor of the house. Noah stood at the counter, cup in hand, staring at the winter wonderland beyond the window. Hoar frost coated evergreen trees in sparkling splendor against a brilliant blue sky while the freshly fallen snow blanketed the yard in a pillowy white cloud. There would be no containing Leo once he woke up.

  “Is that coffee I’m smelling?” she asked, smiling at the startled look on Noah’s face. “Sorry, I guess you didn’t hear me clomping through your home.”

  He gave her a skeptical glance and set his cup down in order to reach another out of the cupboard by the farmhouse sink. “There’s not enough of you to clomp.” He set the mug under the brewer and added a pod to the machine. Soon, heaven began to pour into the cup. He pointed to the platter of pancakes, bacon and toast piled high on top the gas stove. “Help yourself. I figured you might wake up with an appetite this morning.” He opened another cupboard, removed a couple of plates and set them on the counter. “How’s the neck?”

  Molly edged closer, drawn as much by the man as the food. She thought briefly of looking for a fork, then shrugged and snagged a slice of bacon with her fingers. Her eyes closed at the first bite, the better to savor the smoky sweetness of the cured meat.

  “This is delicious,” she moaned, licking her lips. “Who taught you to cook?” Her ex-husband couldn’t even boil water. She opened her eyes to see him staring at her mouth, his gaze intense.

  Her pulse fluttered, sending heat spiraling through her chest and lower. Rattled, she reached for her coffee at the same time he went to hand it to her and the hot liquid splashed his fingers.

  “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “Here, get some cold water on it before it blisters.” She leaned past him to turn on the tap, his hard bicep brushing her cheek. When he didn’t move she reached out, took the hot cup from his hand, grasped his wrist near an intricately woven black and pink bracelet, and guided his reddened fingers beneath the spray.

  He flinched and let out what she was pretty sure was a curse under his breath.
“Are you accident prone, Ms. McCarty, or just bad luck?”

  Molly pursed her lips and stepped back to let him tend to his own injury—grumpy man. “The water should help. I’ll check on Leo. What time did you want to head into town?”

  He sighed and turned off the tap to open a drawer for a striped dishtowel to dry his hand. “After lunch. They should have the road plowed by then. I went down early this morning and helped the tow truck load your car. It doesn’t look as bad as it did last night. He thinks Arties can have it up and running by Christmas.”

  “Arties?”

  He nodded. “A collision shop in town. They do good work. You’re in safe hands.”

  Her gaze was drawn to the bracelet on his arm. “What does that mean?”

  He glanced down at the braided cord and a shadow passed over his face. “I had it made after my aunt died. The pink is for cancer, and the black signifies…” He fingered the band, then threw the towel at the counter before sweeping past her. “Be ready by one or I’ll leave without you,” he said, and disappeared down the hall. A moment later she heard the back door bang shut.

  Molly leaned over the counter to search outside the window, but there was no sign of him. She picked up her coffee and took a sip, grimacing at the tepid temperature. Or maybe it was simply the emptiness in the room that left a bad aftertaste.

  Chapter 7

  Noah waited impatiently while the grocery clerk rang up his items. His cheeks heated as the woman at the till eyed the feminine products with a raised brow. In a town the size of Christmas there weren’t many secrets, and everyone knew he lived alone.

  “Just stocking up ahead of the guests we have arriving next week,” he told Mrs. Nabors.

  She placed a hand on an ample hip. “You need some help out there, Noah, dear? My Jessabelle left her good-for-nothing husband and could sure use a job. She’s been staying with me and Davy. We don’t mind or nothing, but it would sure help us at Christmas if there was another paycheck coming in, if you know what I mean?”

  Reluctantly, he nodded. “Tell her to give me a call and we’ll figure something out.” What else could he say? He’d dated Jessie in high school. She’d gotten a raw deal with that loser she’d married.

  “Bless your sweet heart, Noah Kincaid. Your darlin’ auntie would be so proud of you.” She gifted him with a mile-wide smile and squeezed his hand as she dropped the change into his open palm. “This means the world to Davy and me. Anything you need, just ask, you hear me now?”

  Embarrassed, he nodded and hefted the paper bags into his arms. “Yes, ma’am, I’ll do that,” he said, shouldering the heavy glass door open.

  A blast of frigid air made him grateful for the Sherpa wool lining his thick denim jacket. He hurried to his truck angle-parked halfway down the block and stored the groceries on the back seat. Locking the door, he lifted the collar of his coat as a meager protection from the wind and jumped the snow bank lining the curb to cross the street and make his way over to the Roasted Chestnut Café.

  The scent of fried onions and coffee greeted him as he entered. His mouth watered. He didn’t come in often, but that didn’t stop people calling out a greeting as he clumped through the restaurant in his winter boots. He acknowledged a few of his neighbors, but his focus was on the woman and child waiting for him.

  She was beautiful, her lustrous blond hair a perfect foil for midnight blue eyes and alabaster skin. A fairytale princess come to life. Then she tapped her watch and glowered, and he grinned. His princess had teeth.

  “You’re late,” she sniped as he slid into the booth across from her. “I… we were getting worried.”

  The kid barely glanced up, his attention on the leaning tower of creamer he’d built. Noah raised a brow. “Did you eat already?”

  She shook her head and her hair made a shushing sound against the red nylon of her ski jacket. “We were waiting for you.” She sipped her coffee—black, the way he liked it—and set her cup down. “Everything okay?”

  Shoot. He was supposed to be finding alternative transportation while their car was in the repair shop. He’d been in such a rush to meet them he’d forgotten.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said, turning his cup up for the smiling waitress. He waited until she stepped away to continue. “Listen, my truck is usually at home. Why don’t you and the boy use it until yours is ready? It’s a four-by-four, better for our winter roads.” He didn’t add safer with her shaky driving record, but she must have seen it in his eyes.

  She crossed her arms and leaned back in the booth. “If you’re sure you trust me with your baby, then thank you. I hope it won’t be for more than a few days, I have lots to do if we want to be ready for the holidays.”

  Noah frowned. “Such as?” He’d picked up the groceries and shoveled the drive. What else was there?

  Molly glanced from him to her son’s creamer tower and back to him as though he should be able to figure it out. Then, it dawned on him what she was getting at and he shook his head. “No. We are not getting a tree.”

  His aunt had loved Christmas. She’d decorated the house from top to bottom, inside and out. He closed his eyes, imagining the scents of gingerbread, chocolate, rosemary and sage. He wasn’t ready to face the holiday without her just yet. His heart clenched. Maybe never.

  “But, where will Santa put the presents if we don’t have a Christmas tree?” the little kid piped up.

  Molly’s gaze warmed with empathy. She squeezed Leo’s shoulders and gave him a kiss on the forehead. “Santa Claus won’t let a little old thing like a tree stop him from delivering gifts—as long as you’re a good boy, that is.”

  The waitress appeared at the table and gave them a friendly smile. “If you’re looking to buy a tree, my uncle has the best selection. He’s right on the edge of town, by the library.” She pulled a card out of her apron and handed it to Noah. “Tell him I sent you—Tammy—he’ll give you a good deal.”

  She filled their coffee cups, then set the glass carafe on the table, pen poised to take their order. “Have you decided on what you’d like to eat?”

  “Pizza,” Leo chimed in.

  Tammy laughed. “I like a man who knows what he wants,” she teased.

  Molly rubbed the top of her kid’s head. “Manners, mister.”

  “Ok. Please,” he added before going back to making buttermilk out of the creamers.

  Noah reached out and gathered a few, putting them in the bowl. “Molly?” he asked, conscious of a frisson of awareness at the sound of her name on his lips.

  She closed the menu and handed it to Tammy. “I’ll try your homemade hamburger soup and dinner bun combo, please,” she said, stressing the courtesy term with a side-glance at her son.

  Tammy nodded. “Great choice, it’s a local favorite.” She turned to Noah. “And for you?”

  Noah was hungry enough to eat one of everything, but he settled their all-day breakfast selections. “Steak and eggs. Steak medium rare, eggs over easy.”

  Tammy wrote his request in her little notebook, then picked up the coffee pot. “Thank you, it shouldn’t take too long. We’re in between rushes right now.”

  They were quiet for a few moments after the waitress moved on to the next table, chattering with the customers like they were old friends. People laughed, seniors were shooting the breeze. He’d always been an introvert, but the last few months, caring for his aunt, he’d been touched by the kindness of the community. They’d stepped in with fundraisers, companionship when she needed it the most, casseroles—his freezer was stocked for the next six months—and sympathy. So much compassion that he’d closed himself off from it, the reason too painful to bear.

  But now, sitting in this booth with a beautiful woman, listening to the happiness surrounding them, he could hear his aunt’s voice in his head.

  Life’s too short, son. Don’t go wasting it mourning for things that can’t be changed. Live, baby boy. Live.

  He fingered the card the waitress had laid on the table. “We’ll
take a drive past the tree farm on our way home,” he said, abruptly. “Can’t hurt to look.”

  Leo clapped with glee, his smile lighting up the room.

  Molly’s was softer, but no less warm. “No,” she agreed. “It can’t hurt at all.”

  Chapter 8

  Molly hurried to keep up as Leo wove in and out of the evergreens on display, the air tinted with the scent of pine and balsam. His childish laughter warmed her heart. He was unhappy leaving Alberta and his family behind. She couldn’t blame him. Ever since her divorce from Jason, she’d been coasting, searching for… well, she wasn’t really sure. She just knew it wasn’t in Edmonton. That was her past, Christmas was her future.

  Or, so she hoped.

  “Leo, where are you?” she called, half laughing, half worried. The fairy lights strung in graceful arcs across the large gazebo-type structure were pretty, but they didn’t make finding a little boy in a dark jacket easy. Nearby couples glanced in her direction, then joined in the search. It wasn’t that big an area, but there were a lot of hiding places a mischievous little boy might discover.

  “I’ve got him.” Noah strode out from between two thick conifers with Leo in his arms. He looked like an outdoor magazine model with his lived-in face and burly shoulders. Molly heard the appreciative sighs from the women around her and her heart stuttered. He really was a handsome man.

  She thanked the searchers and shook her head as Noah reached her side. “He was there one minute and then he was gone. You seem to be making a habit out of coming to our rescue.”

  He gazed at her with those dark eyes, his hair ruffled by the chilly breeze, and she had the strongest urge to reach up and kiss those uncompromising lips. He’d probably think she was crazy. She’d have to be to try. He hadn’t given any sign of a mutual attraction, and besides, they barely knew each other.