He backtracked immediately.
Too much?
But she’d admitted to being relieved, telling him that she was more worried he had no family or friends to speak of. She said that loneliness like that could be dangerous.
Such an assumption immediately told Knox there was more to CarolinaGirl than romance novels, cheesy nineties love stories, and software development.
And he wanted to peel it all back. On the phone. In person. And everywhere except in (or even under) the so-called Mistletoe.
Chapter 11—Paisley
When Paisley pulled into town, Shelby met her in the parking lot of the Mansion B&B. It was a good meeting spot, and then Paisley could follow Shelby down to the family beach house.
“Our address isn’t in Google Maps. If you followed any GPS, in fact, you’d wind up five miles down the shore and tire deep in the Atlantic,” she had claimed. Paisley knew, however, from when they were in the location software meetings, Shelby didn’t know north from south or east from west.
“Is this all right?” Paisley swept her hands down her dress—a green linen number with bell sleeves. “I don’t want to stick out like a sore thumb.”
They were standing in front of an oversized dressing mirror in Shelby’s childhood bedroom after a brief tour of the Calhoun’s beachfront property. Despite the coziness of the setting, tucked among sand weeds and nestled next to a private dock, the two stories crowded against a wide deck, it was a big house. Big enough to have accommodated the four kids who’d moved there as teenagers.
Paisley marveled at the open floor plan, in which the front room spread airily into a tidy and spacious kitchen then stretched over to a dining area. Just off from the front door on the other side was Bridger Calhoun’s office and flag room, as Shelby called it. There he housed a roll-top desk, plaques and medals, as well as neatly folded curated flags and uniforms sealed to perfection within glass frames.
Beyond that was the downstairs bedroom that at one time was a family room but had more recently become Betsy’s sewing space, craft corner, and stationary center.
Upstairs, three generously sized bedrooms spanned out across the landing. The boys’ room, the girls’ room, and their parents’ bedroom, of course. And that didn’t include a modest attic space which Betsy dedicated as a playroom for the littles—her grandbabies.
But the true icing of the property, according to Shelby, was the broad wrap-around deck that carried guests from the front door to the backyard beach and over again to the front in an unending loop of wicker patio furniture, glass-top tables, and plants and flowers of every variety. Betsy’s fourth favorite hobby in case anyone lost count.
That deck was where the Calhouns hosted a party for every holiday: Christmas, New Year’s Eve, Easter, Memorial Day, the Fourth of July, Labor Day, Halloween, Veteran’s Day, and clear through to Thanksgiving. That was the benefit of living in the South—year-round parties on the deck. When there was a chill in the air, Shelby said they just dragged out the heat lamps and set up a bonfire on the beach.
Being in another family’s home like this was a curiosity to Paisley. She had her own memories of a small pink bedroom with a frilly bed skirt and dolls for days. But then what came after overshadowed those happy times. A spare room at her Aunt Rita’s—the walls covered floor to ceiling with framed cross stiches and ominous paintings of Barretts long dead. A high, heavy dresser stood across from a quilt-laden bed. Even with the dark dreariness of it, Paisley found the place to be a home away from home.
Enough so that she kept up her grades at school, earned a college scholarship, and entered the workforce. First as a lowly soldier ant at a Charleston marketing firm.
She quickly grew tired of working for someone else—preferring instead to be the one to set her own schedule. But there was nothing she could do about that, not while she was making so little and saving even less. Then Aunt Rita passed. And with her passing, a modest inheritance. Enough to free Paisley from software development and allow her to take the plunge into chasing her dream.
At the time, she didn’t know what her dream was. But then, as she started to date only to suffer a rash of fools, she thought she’d found it. A calling to help weed through the non-starters. A drive to connect people. An interest in seeing if the stuff of her secret romance novels could ever be real. As real as what her parents had. And possibly longer lasting.
Matchmaking might have filled the bill, but then… the company was slow to start. Even with Paisley’s pretenses as a successful, borderline inaccessible company president.
It had never occurred to her that her attempt to look the part of successful businesswoman was the biggest obstacle preventing her from actually being a successful businesswoman.
“Here.” Shelby thrust a loop of plastic miniature Christmas lights at her. “Add this, and I think you’ll be ready.”
“Is it a—” Paisley frowned. “Is it a necklace? Or?”
Laughing, Shelby took it back, stepped behind Paisley, and slid it over her head, then held her shoulders. Together, they studied Paisley in the mirror.
“I’d give you a shawl, but then you’d be downright overdressed.”
“Even with plastic Christmas lights, I look uptight. I don’t know how this happened, but I look uptight.”
Shelby folded her arms over her chest.
“What?” Paisley asked.
“Well, you are.”
The air blew itself right out of her lungs, and Paisley pushed her fingers into her scalp, massaging away a growing headache. “I’m not sure how in the world I’m going to survive tonight.”
Shelby’s eyes grew wide. “So, you are fearful about this guy?”
Paisley let out a short laugh. “No. That’s not what I mean. I mean… I mean I’m excited. And I haven’t even seen his face. I mean, he could be twice my age, and I wouldn’t know. And then there’s your perfect, sweet, downhome family. Everything I should be, but I’m not.”
“Well, you might see that my family isn’t all you might think. We aren’t perfect.” She snorted. “Far from it. And as for the faceless date—your blind date… shall I remind you that it was your decision to go that route?”
Paisley shrugged helplessly.
Shelby shook her head. “That’s the thing about our app, though, Paisley. You said it would set us apart. And it does. Doesn’t it?”
She sighed. “Maybe we need to do a better job merging the app part of it and the in-person client reviews. Maybe I should have had you schedule a meeting with this guy first. To vet him for me.”
“I’ve been in Indigo Bay all week. That would have been your job. You were the one in Charleston.”
“Speaking of which, when I told this guy I was going to be in Indigo Bay tonight, he said that it was perfect. His party is here in town, too.” She hadn’t revealed that odd detail to Shelby quite yet—that she and her little blind date just so happened to be in the same small town on the same night.
Shelby frowned. “That’s weird. Another Christmas party in Indigo Bay?”
Paisley shrugged. “He said he has family from here. Friends, too.”
Did he live in Indigo Bay? Paisley retraced their chat in her mind. They’d connected through the Charleston geo location. His profile said Charleston. But then, maybe there was more to that story. It couldn’t be.
Shelby’s eyes narrowed. “Now just hang on one minute, here. What is this man’s name, Paisley? I know every family in Indigo Bay.”
“I don’t know his last name. Just his first.”
“What’s his first name, then?”
“I don’t know. I only know his username.”
“You could look him up,” Shelby pointed out, smirking. “You could literally go into the system and look up his real name from his billing information.”
“Shelby!” Paisley hissed. “Are you out of your mind?”
Shelby raised her hands in surrender. “Okay, okay. I was just kidding. Once you do learn his name, you have to t
ext me. I’ll run it through the family, and we’ll nail this guy down. Full Calhoun background check, okay?”
Paisley smiled through a sigh. Her nerves intensified now, what with taking part in this would-be downhome, small-town Christmas AND heading out on a blind date directly after. She didn’t know what scared her more. The Calhouns… or a first date on Christmas Eve.
With Paisley duly decked in plastic Christmas lights, she followed Shelby downstairs.
The party didn’t start for another fifteen minutes, but she had yet to be formally introduced to any of the family, who were all on the beach when Paisley had initially arrived. Apparently, there was some issue with the wind and plans for the bonfire, and Mrs. Calhoun was in a tizzy about it.
They were still outside once Paisley and Shelby made their way into the kitchen.
Overflowing dishes stretched across in a buffet of appetizers and treats. Everything from gleaming cranberry sauce to fluffy mounds of stuffing, hills of mashed potatoes, rows of perfect pies, and orderly trays of vegetables and fruits, bonbons, and candies in neat arrangements. Plastic wrap shone across the food, and Paisley’s stomach growled. She’d been unable to eat breakfast or lunch that day.
Paisley turned away and followed Shelby through to the living room, where a ten-foot Christmas tree glimmered adjacent to the fireplace, taking center stage in front of the wide front window. Wrapped packages—including Paisley’s own—and teeming stockings filled the space beneath the tree and trickled toward the fireplace, which was a gas number set to low.
“Wow,” Paisley breathed. “This is a Christmas dream.”
Shelby nodded. “Look what I added this year.” She pointed behind Paisley to the French doors thrown open to the back deck where a chiminea glowed in the center of red Adirondack chairs.
“What?”
“Look,” Shelby repeated, pointing as if into the air.
Paisley narrowed her eyes on the wall space above the door where a particularly ornate wreath hung grandly.
Then she saw it. Just below the wreath, pinned neatly in the center of the open doorway was a sprig of mistletoe, tied together with an unmissable red ribbon.
“Aw,” Paisley cooed. “It’s like a little homage to our business.”
“And that’s not all,” Shelby dropped her voice. “I told my brother to invite one of his teacher friends. This cute PE teacher from Indigo Bay High.” Shelby shimmied and did a little dance then smirked at Paisley. “We’ll see what happens.”
Paisley grinned, and her stomach churned. In exactly one hour, she’d be bidding farewell to Shelby and her family’s beautiful Christmas beach house and heading off to a mystery date locale with a mystery man who might just help her save her business. If all went according to plan, of course. And if he sent her directions. That was her only request: that they meet. This way, she was in control. No hidden locales against a craggy outcropping of rocks. No back alleys. Well-lit, peopled parties only.
It was Paisley’s advice to any woman heading out on a first date. Safety first.
“Here they come,” Shelby announced as she rounded back to the coffee table to scoop herself a bowlful of popcorn—Mrs. Calhoun had positioned random bowls of snack foods on every horizontal surface on the first floor. It was a good thing Paisley was too nervous to be hungry.
At the back deck French doors, up marched a militant, attractive man—salt-and-pepper hair and a bit of a hitch in his step. He paused at the corner of the open doors and passed a hand formally behind him. He seemed to have one eye on Shelby, one on Paisley, and one on the incoming stream of others.
“Oh!” trilled a warm, Southern voice from the evening air.
Paisley scooted closer to Shelby.
“You must be Miss Paisley.” A woman with a bouncing blonde coif—nearly high enough to touch Heaven—strode past her husband and directly for Paisley. “It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance, Paisley. I’m Betsy, Shelby’s mama.”
Mrs. Calhoun wrapped Paisley’s hand in hers and patted the back of it. “We’re just so thrilled to have you join us. I’ve heard all about you from Shelby, and I can’t imagine that we have much to offer such a special person as yourself here in lil’ ol’ Indigo Bay, but—”
“Mama,” Shelby interjected.
“Oh,” Mrs. Calhoun winked at Paisley, “I get overexcited when I meet new people. Especially important new people.” Another wink.
“Lovely to meet you, Mrs. Calhoun.” Paisley smiled, and her gaze drifted back to the window where Mr. Calhoun still stood sentinel. Next to him, a squabbling couple danced awkwardly beneath the sprig of mistletoe as a pair of children squealed in delight or horror—it was unclear which.
Shelby laughed along at the funny sight of a married couple getting caught there and then moved to make introductions between Paisley and Bliss and her family and then Mr. Calhoun, too.
Chimes broke out within the walls of the house and floated out into the early evening air and in no time, new people streamed in through the front door.
Within just fifteen minutes, the place throbbed with Christmas carols, and Paisley lost track of just about every last Calhoun or Calhoun kin she’d met. There were aunts and uncles, cousins, grandparents, and friends aplenty. Paisley had never seen anything like it. She was used to lonely, quiet Christmas celebrations. Sometimes with one of her old girlfriends’ families. Sometimes with an acquaintance from church or a gal from her book club. Never in such a celebratory fashion. Never with loud music and too much food and four fires glowing at premeditated locales across a sprawling beachfront property.
And yet, she knew for a fact she hadn’t even met everyone. Shelby’s brother Bragg would be a no-show. Her other brother was due with a friend for Shelby.
By the time they showed up, she’d be dashing off on her own sleigh ride. Hopefully. Then again, she hadn’t seen Shelby in quite a while. Maybe they had arrived and were lost in the throng of Christmas spirit.
As she nibbled on a baby carrot in the corner, pretending to tap her foot along to “Jingle Bell Rock,” her phone buzzed in her hand.
Chapter 12—Knox
Knox had outright refused to bring the PE teacher to his parents’ party. When Shelby asked, he’d said he didn’t get mixed up in matchmaking, and that was that. She pouted briefly on the phone, but once they’d ended the call, he remembered she was bringing her boss anyway. That solidified it. Under no circumstances would he involve himself in some twisted love triangle.
So, when he showed up to the Christmas party a half hour late to catch Shelby and Coach Kern whispering together next to the chimenea, all he could do was chuckle. Shelby was a woman who knew what she wanted.
Knox just felt bad for the poor sucker she’d dragged down to town with her. Surely, he didn’t sign up to play third wheel to his employee’s galivanting.
Or wasn’t Shelby’s boss a woman? Why did Knox suddenly feel confused about that fact? He could have sworn Shelby had raved about some genius woman running Mistletoe. And maybe he’d even seen her image somewhere. He shook the thought and jogged up the steps and onto his parents’ back deck, sand seeping immediately into his loafers.
He would have been on time or even early to the party, but Knox preferred to keep a low profile until his own date showed up.
That way, he could loop his arm around her waist and demonstrate to everyone that they had nothing to worry about. He had someone in his life. They could leave him well enough alone.
The only thing that concerned him was whether she could find the place. The property was off the beaten path, south of town, and he was fairly certain that technology hadn’t caught up enough to situate the address correctly in online maps. Still, she’d insisted on driving herself to the party. A safety measure, he presumed, assuming she indeed made it safely to the party.
He stuck to the perimeter, hoping to avoid his parents and sisters, the ones who were just itching to see this mystery woman he’d mentioned the morning before.
Knox
weaved between tables of goodies, offering and accepting brief hellos and quick hugs between cousins as he shuffled around aimlessly, desperate to meet CarolinaGirl. Anxious to see if she were who and what he’d pictured. Beautiful and glimmering with a wit to match. Maybe she’d have one of her romance novels secretly stashed in her handbag. He’d get a kick out of that.
Then he recalled the pretenses under which he’d invited her to the party. A little guilt tugged at his chest for being disingenuous. How could he throw a stranger to the wolves like that? And speaking of strangers, whose party was she attending in Indigo Bay? Was there a chance they knew each other somehow?
He didn’t know a CarolinaGirl, though. That was for sure.
“Knox!” a shrill voice cut through the nippy air.
He turned to see Aunt Tiny, a drink in one hand and plateful of food in the other.
“Hi, Aunt Tiny.” Knox leaned down and offered her a quick peck on the cheek. “Is Beau here?” He hadn’t seen his cousin yet.
“He’s inside trying to keep the kids from diving into that mess of gifts.” She giggled. “Say, Knox, has your sister introduced you to her boss yet?”
There was a glimmer in Aunt Tiny’s eyes as Knox tried not to roll his own. So he was right. Shelby’s famous matchmaking boss was female.
“Um, no, but I have to get back to the front of the house, Aunt Tiny. My date is arriving any time now.”
“Date?” Aunt Tiny gasped in time for his mother to sidle up nearby. The squat woman turned to Betsy and repeated herself, “Date? Knox Calhoun has a date?”
“Knox goes on lots of dates, Tiny,” his mother corrected. “But this one must be some kind of special.” She winked at him. “To get an invitation to our little get-together.”
Knox played along, grinning and pushing the guilt further and further down in his chest. No matter how excited he was to meet CarolinaGirl… was it fair to put her in this position? Throw her to the wolves and set her up for instant suppositions about some degree of seriousness in their relationship?
Sweet Mistletoe Page 5