Mistletoe Baby: A Crescent Cove Bite

by Taryn Quinn

  I was all about using models when I needed to, but for the most part, I preferred everyday subjects and Crescent Cove was full of characters. From the nosy busybody types, to the prolific level of children, and the added strangers in town for the festival, I’d been inundated with subject matter. People from all walks of life came in and out of the café. Some I drew from mental snapshots, while others were curious enough to ask to sit for me.

  My brain was whirling with ideas for a new series, which my agent would be super excited about considering I’d been dry for the last few months. The fall term always sucked all the creativity out of me. All that new hope wrapped in the careless throwaway years of youth. I reached a few students—enough to keep my own hope alive. Occasionally, I found little pockets of inspiration within our class discussions. Some students even surprised me with their takes on old folklore.

  The winter term was more for my advanced classes. They were wrapped up in their own projects, and that often gave me time to deal with my own. As well as allowing me to get my annual book published to keep my place at the college. If you didn’t publish, you perished. At least that was the current dean’s point of view.

  I had my initial research done on Tam Lin, a Scottish folktale. I was actually toying with writing an illustrated book. The prospect was scary as hell. I liked the anonymity of my alter ego, Cal. No last name on my paintings, just a sliced up version of my first. It was too unusual to use the full version without someone being able to connect a few dots.

  At the very least, my Crescent Cove sojourn had produced enough seeds for a half dozen paintings. Dry period be gone.

  For once, everything was falling in line. I should be settled, but instead, it was as if the whole world was a little tilted. I had a feeling that was more from a certain smart-mouthed barista.

  One who had disappeared in the last hour or so.

  I felt around in my bag and found her heavy notebook. It was bulging with clippings and glued-in notes. I didn’t mean to open it. I knew more than most how much a sketchbook was more like a personal journal. But the spine was practically cracked with all the extra papers that had been added.

  Glossy magazine pages had been ripped and altered, largely of women’s faces and hair. Some had been restructured with pencils and paints while others had literally been cut to create a different style.

  Notes were scribbled in the margins, numbers and names that didn’t make a lick of sense to me.

  A few brand names that I vaguely understood were highlighted with phone numbers or ID numbers—I couldn’t tell which. But it was her script handwriting I was more interested in. It was slashing and feminine, not the cutesy teen bubble-style. No, this was the kind that came with a quick brain who couldn’t get the words out fast enough.

  Some of it had to be her own brand of shorthand.

  I kept turning the pages. Her sense of color was startlingly intense. From the rich browns and reds to a million shades in between. It took a special eye to see variations like she did. And the way she hacked at photos to create her own hairstyles then moved on to scratchy drawings that refined them into faceless drawings that reminded me of fashion drawings.

  But she didn’t seem to care about clothing, so I was more inclined to think she was into the cosmetology end of art.

  “Nosy much?”

  I snapped the book shut and looked up. “Sorry, it sort of…” I stood and was pretty sure my tongue rolled out of my head and across the cafė to stop at her feet.

  She’d changed.

  The sweet ponytail had been replaced with a tumble of light brown waves tinged with caramel. Large gold hoops hung from her ears and she’d done something with her face. It was enhanced with some female witchcraft. Not the kind that looked overdone. No, this was the little tricks of her trade, now that I knew her a little better.

  She’d changed into some sort of dusky pink sweater that looked cloud soft and slipped off one shoulder—I intended to find out just how soft it was, mind you. Of course then there was the skin tight white jeans and boots that matched her sweater. But not just a regular pair of boots. These went over her knee with a spiked heel that made her legs look miles long.

  Fuck.

  “Sort of what? Hopped out of your bag and into your hand and the pages magically fanned open?” She crossed her arms, and it did ridiculous things to the curve of her chest. Also, her sweater lifted the tiniest bit to show off a slash of golden stomach.

  Was she wearing a bra?

  There was definitely no strap going on there. Maybe it was one of those strapless things that only women understood. Or just one strap? I didn’t understand, but I wanted to. And I really wanted it to be on my floor tonight. Or just the sweater. I wasn’t choosy. I just wanted her.

  “Uh…”

  “Eyes up, pal.”

  I blew out a breath. “Sorry. You…wow.”

  Her lips quirked up at the corner. Damn, she knew her power. Why did that make her even hotter?

  I cleared my throat. “I was looking for you and then I took out the notebook and it was ready to bust open.”

  She dropped her arms and came for me. I mean, came forward. The slow roll of her hips and those legs of hers made me crazy. I couldn’t form a fucking thought. She tipped her head slightly and the scent of vanilla and honey flooded my senses. From the dusting of something shimmery on her shoulder to the glimmer of gold at her neck, ears, and wrists, she sparkled. She was a winter dream right in front of me.

  And I was totally botching this. Again.

  She took the notebook and dropped it into the huge bag over her other shoulder. “Thanks for keeping it safe. Ish.”

  “I didn’t touch it. Well, I mean I looked at a few pages, but I didn’t hurt anything. It’s really amazing,” I finished lamely.

  “Thanks. I’ve been collecting for a long time.”

  “Just collecting?”

  She stepped closer. “Guess I’ll find out Monday.”

  “What’s Monday?”

  “Do you really care, Callum?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “You’ll be gone by then, won’t you?” She tipped her head and tucked a heavy lock of hair behind her ear. “Better question is why are you still here?”

  “We had a moment.”

  “Yeah. It was a moment. A nice one.”

  “It was more than nice and you know it.” I stepped into her space and some of her bravado seemed to fall away.

  She shrugged. “I’m not looking for a bit of mistletoe-flavored fun, Callum. Come to think of it, it’s poisonous. Did you know that?”

  “I did. And actually in Norse mythology, it was the single thing that killed Baldr. He was immune to everything thanks to his mother, Frigg. Save for one little plant.” I invaded her space. “An arrow made of mistletoe was his ultimate demise.”

  She licked her lips and stared at my mouth. “I didn’t know that part.”

  “Then again, there were the Druids who used mistletoe in a lot of their rituals. They thought it had special powers. And as most things in pagan religion, the Christians nicked it for their own.” I slid my fingers along her hip. “It went from being used in solstice rituals with evergreen for various fertility reasons to finally becoming little pretty things in doorways and arches to catch a kiss.”

  There were a lot more stories around mistletoe, but right now, most of it was leaving my brain. Probably because most of my blood had headed south.

  “Oh.”

  Her lashes swept down and I went for it once again. Instead of the bite of winter and snow with traces of vanilla, she tasted of sharp mint. But her sigh was the same, and when she melted into me, I took full advantage. I wrapped my arm around her back and drew her up against me.

  The café sounds fell away, and there was nothing but her honey-scented sweetness. I resisted the urge to break a few laws—sex in public was definitely frowned upon, especially in a small town. And I’d already made that colossal mistake with our intimate public mome
nt.

  Instead, I tempered myself into a long, slow kiss. She gripped my shirt, and I was pretty sure a few chest hairs were sacrificed for the cause. I didn’t care. She was with me now, and that was all that mattered.

  Six

  For the second time in as many days, I found myself kissing this man. And as with the first kiss, I didn’t really understand why it happened. Only that I liked it.

  A lot.

  At least the first one I could blame on mistletoe. This one? Not so much.

  The crash of dishes behind me finally dented the hormone haze. Callum being an artist and spouting random stories about mistletoe shouldn’t have been a turn-on, and yet here I was.

  I stepped back and teetered on my heels. He caught me and the very sizable hardness he was sporting should have put me off, and yet it so did not.

  Those words and yet were my problem tonight.

  Everything about him should have been in my turn-off column. No roots in Crescent Cove—check. Less than stable artist—check. Not looking for something serious—double check.

  And here I was, dressed up and looking to impress.

  Run, Eleanor Ann Lawton, you run right now.

  Not toward him. Away.

  Ignoring that voice, I leaned in and brushed his lips one more time. “Let’s make this mistake worth it.”

  He frowned. “Why does it have to be a mistake?”

  “You don’t exactly have let’s date in mind, do you?”

  “I could.” He looked away too fast.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

  “I don’t know what this is yet. I do know I want to spend time with you.”

  I readjusted my purse on my arm. “You want to spend time in my bed.”

  “Well, I’m not averse to that, no.”

  The fact that I wasn’t either gave me a lot of pause. I’d never been the kind of woman who hopped into bed with strangers. I usually ended up having shit taste in men, but it took a while to figure that out. And that usually included five dates or so. “You’re not from here, either.”

  “No.” His eyes narrowed. “Why do I have a feeling you are going down a list in your head, and I’m not getting any checkmarks?”

  “I have a lot of plans, Callum.”

  “Say it again, Ellie.”

  Something fluttered deep in parts of me I didn’t want to think about. “I have a lot of plans.”

  “Callum. Say my name, Ellie.”

  “Stop being charming.”

  He grinned. “Well, there’s one checkmark.”

  “Charming isn’t a virtue.”

  “Is that what you’re looking for? Virtues?” His gaze dropped to my mouth again as he rolled his bottom lip behind his teeth. And that was far too enticing. “Virtues don’t keep you warm at night.”

  “I don’t need a man to keep me warm at night. I’ve been taking care of myself for a damn long time. I even pay my own heating bill.”

  “That little bite in your voice doesn’t do anything to turn me off, Ellie. It just makes me want you more.”

  “You have some weird standards.”

  “I’m pretty sure it’s just an Ellie standard. You’re ruining me for all other women, remember?”

  “That endless charm is going to get you into trouble.”

  “I don’t really have a lot of charm for anyone but you.”

  “Oh, I witnessed plenty of it during my shift today.”

  “You were paying attention.”

  I tossed my hair over my shoulder. “I didn’t have to. The crowd around you told the tale no matter where I was in the café.”

  “Ah, but you still looked for me.”

  I huffed out a breath. “You are incorrigible.”

  “So my mother tells me. She’d like you.”

  My gut twisted. I didn’t want to think about his family or the three brothers he’d mentioned. It seemed big and intrusive and…warm. I was used to my solitary life. I had a few friends, but somehow I’d never really gotten too close to anyone in the years I’d lived here. My mom had landed here when I was seventeen. By the time I was eighteen, she’d lit out with bum number twenty-three and left me behind. Not that she’d ever really been a mom. But once I was eighteen, she didn’t have to legally stick around anymore.

  “Hey.” He slid his fingers into my hair and brushed his thumb over my cheek. “Where did you go?”

  “Nowhere fun.” I brushed his hand away.

  “I’m just asking for you to give me tonight. If you still think this is a mistake after that, no harm no foul.”

  “What’s the point? You don’t even live around here.”

  “But I’m not far from here either. Less than an hour.”

  I sighed. “Might as well be five. I’m starting a new job on Monday, and I won’t have time for two-hour long booty calls. And that’s hoping it would be more than fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh, it would be. Not sure I can go two hours, but I’ll give it a go.”

  I arched my brow.

  He frowned then tipped his head back. “Oh, you mean to and from.”

  “Exactly.” I toyed with the buttons of his goldenrod and soot colored shirt. The plaid suited him. A little traditional, but somehow not. His gray eyes were darker now. Stormier and intense in a way that made me want to make those mistakes. To throw caution out the window and live a little.

  Especially with that lure of more than a fifteen-minute one and done.

  No. No, that’s not on the menu.

  We could have a nice evening together without sex. It would be easier to walk away if I didn’t know exactly how we fit together. Some fun might be good for me.

  Hmm, how much longer than fifteen minutes would be take?

  “Isn’t it exhausting to think so much?” He played with the hem of my sweater, the backs of his knuckles brushing along the skin of my midriff. “Just jump in with me. Just for a few hours.”

  I sighed. I really was tired of thinking all the time. “Gonna buy me a steak?”

  “Is that what you want?”

  I laughed. “Macy said I should make you buy me an expensive dinner.”

  “I’d do it if that’s what you want.” He trailed his fingers over my hip to get to my hand and laced our fingers. “What do you want, Ellie?”

  I let myself consider the possibilities. “I’d like to walk around the festival. I’m usually working and never get to enjoy it.”

  “Then that’s what we’ll do.” He drew me closer to the couch and grabbed my coat. “Now aren’t you glad I had your coat?”

  “Is that what we’re going to call it? And not ransom?”

  “I’ll do what I have to so I can spend time with you.” He twirled me around. “Now let’s get you dressed for outside. Even if I really like this one-shoulder deal.” His thumb caressed my skin before he held up my gray wool coat for me to put on.

  I shivered when he flipped my hair out and draped it over my shoulder to make sure it didn’t get tangled in my hood. When I glanced back at him, he was so damn close.

  Indecision lurked in his eyes. It would be so easy to just let this wicked chemistry lead me upstairs with him in tow. He seemed to understand that as much as we both wanted it, maybe it wasn’t a good idea.

  Exhaling, he reached for his sweater on the couch and shrugged it on. He should have looked stodgy. Instead, he was all broad shoulders and sinful muscles. A thin leather bracelet peeked from his cuffs. It consisted of a heavy silver bead with some sort of intricate knots that clung to his wide wrist. He was far too intriguing in too many ways.

  He pulled on his coat and handed me my red scarf. “Shall we?” He crooked his arm.

  I couldn’t stop the smile as I slid my arm through his. “We shall.”

  Even walking through the door made me feel like there was a change in the air. Evening had descended on the town. Just the barest hint of setting sun peeked from the trees over the water. The café was kitty corner from the park. The street lamps had been capped
with lanterns to give the street an old world feel.

  The gazebo—and scene of the crime—was lit up with white twinkle lights and fat retro bulbs in traditional colors, never mind the glistening tree itself. It reminded me of when I was really young, before my mother forgot what holidays were. When we tried to eke out an existence in the shabby apartment in a small town that was more famous for the waterfall and old factories than anyone who lived there.

  My mother had actually made an effort to give me a good Christmas that year. She’d been clear-eyed and not focused on some jerk to take care of her for once. She’d found decorations in the shed behind the old two-family house. We’d strung the ancient lights on the tiny Charlie Brown tree, and we had draped the remaining strings over the window ledge in my bedroom.

  The lights on the gazebo shimmered in my vision, and the slap of cold singed my lungs.

  Suddenly, I was twirling, and the lights seemed merry rather than sad. Callum caught my hand on the twirl out, and then I was overwhelmed with his cedar scent carrying on the cold breeze. A flashback to yesterday. No snow this time, but just like last night, he was nearly irresistible.

  “I don’t like that faraway look.”

  His lips were so close that each word was a small puff of air against mine. Part of me wanted to blurt out the sadness that sneaked up on me this time of year, but the rest…

  I didn’t want to be the woman with the absentee parents. I was a strong, single woman who was just starting her career.

  And I’d be strong and brave right now too.

  I leaned in and closed the gap. His tongue was warm and a little too talented, but that was exactly what I needed.

  A man who knew what he was doing. If I was going to act a little crazy, then it should be with a guy who knew what the hell he was doing.

  The sound of a clearing throat had us pulling apart. Callum dragged his thumb over his lower lip right before he stepped away.

  “Sorry to interrupt.” The jangle of keys dragged my attention away from the best kisser in the known universe. Well, at least my universe. Goodness.