With each stop, the minimob bunched together. Getting close to Emma was inevitable and unavoidable. It was also enjoyable. More enjoyable than it should be. Nick would be lying if he said he didn’t find her as attractive as ever.
“You’re doing that on purpose,” she said when he brushed up against her for the umpteenth time.
“I was going to accuse you of the same thing.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Not funny.”
“What has you on edge?” he asked. “Holly’s laser stare burning holes into the backs of our heads?”
“Really! What’s with her?” Emma frowned with displeasure. “Mom told me she isn’t happy about the marriage.”
“It’s hard when a parent remarries.”
“Not for me.”
“Your mother didn’t recently die from cancer.”
“You’re right. That wasn’t fair.”
“She and her mom were close. Then, after her mother died, Holly took over. At home and at the ranch office. She probably feels her place is being usurped by another woman.”
“I understand that,” Emma agreed. “Only Mom isn’t interested in working at the ranch office.”
“But she will run the household.”
“You’d think Holly would want her father to be happy and not live the rest of his life alone.”
“She’s still grieving and feels like Leonard is betraying her mom’s memory.”
“You didn’t have a hard time when your mother started dating.”
Nick reached into his jacket pockets and pulled out his gloves. He tried not to think about warming his right hand by holding Emma’s left. “I didn’t live and work with her, either. Plus, she waited five years before dating.”
“Exactly. Your mother waited. My mom and Leonard are charging full steam ahead.”
“There’s no right or wrong timetable, Emma. Folks get married when they’re ready.”
She rubbed her brow with her mittened hand. It did nothing to erase the deep creases. “I’d hate for Holly to ruin the wedding.”
“She’ll behave.”
Another stop, this time in front of Frozen Delights with its signature holiday ice cream. Leonard’s young grandkids jumped up and down, pleading for cones.
“Pralines and cream still your favorite flavor?” Nick asked Emma.
She shot him a decidedly less hostile look. In fact, her expression verged on sentimental. “We came here for our first date.”
“I remember.” They both stared through the lit window into the shop. “You probably don’t want to hear this,” Nick said, “but those six months we spent together were the happiest of my life.”
He couldn’t say why he suddenly felt compelled to tell her that. For some reason, it seemed important.
When she answered him, her voice was no more than a whisper. “I don’t mind.”
“The memories, they’re not all bad, Emma. Actually, they’re almost all good.”
“Except for the very last one.”
The group moved on, chatting and laughing. Carolers dressed in Victorian period costumes strolled the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street, singing, “Deck the Halls.” An elderly couple kissed beneath one of the many mistletoe sprigs.
Nick and Emma stayed where they were in front of the Frozen Delights window.
“I didn’t lie to you,” he said. “When I told you I hadn’t dated anyone for a year before we met, it was true.”
“Right. That gal was just a weekend fling.”
“I was young and stupid. I made a mistake. What matters most is the baby wasn’t mine.”
Doubting the woman’s claim, Nick had insisted on DNA testing immediately following the baby’s birth. The results were negative.
“But it might have been yours.” Emma sniffed. From the cold or from prodding old wounds?
“If you had stayed in Mistletoe and not left—”
“How could I stay? Everyone knew. I was so embarrassed. One hour before my wedding, a pregnant woman shows up at the church, swearing my fiancé is her baby’s father. I was convinced she’d lost her mind. But then you said it was possible. That you’d slept with her.”
“Two months before I met you.”
“Excuse me for being shocked and hurt enough to not want to see you again.” She turned away from the window. Away from him.
“You could have come back, Emma. Once the DNA test was done.”
She sniffed again. “I already had a new job and an apartment with a lease.”
“Those are excuses. Not reasons.”
“I wasn’t ready.” She faltered. “I didn’t trust you.”
That was closer to the truth, though it didn’t explain why she’d remained scarce for six years.
Part of him wanted to say, “You’re here now,” but their complicated past stopped him. She’d hurt him, too. Walked out on him, on them, without a backward glance. As if their love had meant nothing.
“What do you want from me, Nick?”
“Only for us to get along, at least through the wedding. After that, we can go our separate ways.” Now he was the one being less than totally honest.
What he wanted most was to get over Emma Sturlacky once and for all. Move on. Stop comparing every woman he met to her and deciding they came up short. Nick was tired of being alone. He craved what he’d almost had with Emma and what his boss had found with her mother. A wife and family to call his own.
Standing close, brushing up against her, wasn’t the way to put her and their former relationship behind him. Distance served his purpose much better.
“We’d better go.” Without waiting for her, he started up the sidewalk. “Or Leonard really will send out a search party.”
CHAPTER THREE
NICK AND EMMA joined the rest of their group at the hot chocolate stand, a fund-raiser hosted by the local Girl Scout troops. Dropping a ten-dollar bill in the donation jar, he grabbed two foam cups and sought out Emma. She was holding her hands to her mouth and blowing warm air into them.
“Here.” He passed her a cup. “This will help.”
“Thanks.” Her tone was reserved. No surprise after their conversation in front of Frozen Delights.
Leonard strolled over. “Kind of like old times, seeing you two together.”
Emma jerked back as if struck. “There’s nothing between us,” she stammered, and hurried away, her hot chocolate sloshing over the sides of her cup.
Leonard stared after her, his expression stricken. “Guess I put my foot in my mouth with that one.”
Nick tried to make light of the situation. “Might be best if you didn’t bring up our former relationship. Not until after your wedding, at least.”
“Maybe I should talk to her. Or ask Candy to.”
“I’ll go.” The words were hardly out and Nick was in motion.
Emma’s back greeted him. She was standing on the edge of the group near the street corner, isolating herself from family and friends. Exactly what she’d been doing these past six years.
“Don’t blame Leonard.” Nick downed his hot chocolate. “He has his head in the clouds, what with the wedding in a few days.”
Emma’s squared her shoulders before facing him. “I doubt he’s the only one thinking or gossiping about me.”
Anger surged inside Nick, and he spoke more gruffly than he intended. “You think you were the only one who was hurt and embarrassed?”
She blinked. “Of course not.”
“Right. Because you left. While I stayed and got to listen to all the condescending remarks, all the empty platitudes and all the jokes.” He tossed his empty cup in a nearby trash receptacle. “You had it hard? News flash. It was a living hell for me, so don’t expect my sympathy.”
“And whose fault is that?” she demanded.
“Be honest with yourself, if not with me. How much of a difference would it have made if I’d told you beforehand I’d had a two-day fling with a woman I met in a bar? Would you have gone through with the wedding after she showed up?”
“I guess we’ll never know.”
“Speak for yourself.”
Her eyes flashed with indignation. A defense, Nick was sure, because he’d called her out. She would have left anyway, and they both knew it.
“The one difference,” he continued, “is you’d have to take full responsibility for walking out and not blame me.”
Wrong thing to say if he had any hope of getting along with her until after the wedding. She instantly stiffened and might have issued a comeback if not for Gladys Givens’s appearance.
“Aren’t you going to kiss her?” She looked expectantly at Nick. When he didn’t respond, she stated the obvious. “You two are standing under mistletoe.”
Both Nick and Emma raised their gazes. There, dangling from the street sign, a foot above their heads, was a mistletoe sprig tied with a red ribbon. Great.
Emma froze.
“Can’t defy tradition.” Gladys beamed at them. “It’s bad luck.”
Nick could feel the many stares on them. Hear the slight intake of breaths. He contemplated how best to make a clean getaway and came up blank. They had only one choice.
As if reading his mind, Emma shook her head. “No. Don’t you dare.”
That did it. He was like a kid confronted with a freshly baked cake, unable to resist swiping his finger along the side and stealing a glob of frosting. Taking hold of her upper arms, he hauled her onto her tiptoes.
Her eyes went wide. She didn’t, however, pull away.
Here goes nothing, Nick thought and dipped his head, aiming for her cheek. She gasped in anticipation, her lips parting slightly. The sight was too much to resist, and he changed his mind. Instead of a chaste peck, his mouth settled possessively on hers.
The kiss was so much like the one after their first date at Frozen Delights. Soft. Sweet. Tender. Slightly hesitant but full of promise. He hadn’t been able to stop then, and the same held true tonight. Ignoring her murmured protest, he deepened the kiss.
Wham! Heat shot though him like a fireball with a mile-long tail. Old desires, never fully banished, returned with a vengeance, and Nick’s carefully maintained control slipped.
His hand moved from her arm to cradle the side of her face and angle her head just so, allowing him to part her lips farther. She resisted—for a moment longer. Then she melted into his embrace. Unclenching her hands, she laid them flat on the front of his jacket. As the kiss went on, they traveled slowly toward his neck.
Crazy as it was, Nick willed her to wrap her arms around him. Apparently, his powers of telepathy were lacking because she stopped there. And like that, the kiss ended.
He didn’t let her go, not right away. He was too captivated by the look in her brown eyes. In that moment, she was the old Emma. The one who loved him and wanted to be his wife despite their young age and uncertain future. The one he believed wouldn’t leave him under any circumstances or for any reason.
The next instant, the look vanished. She was the new Emma once more, the one who hadn’t forgiven him for what she saw as a betrayal.
“Don’t do that again,” she said through clenched teeth.
“Might be hard. There is mistletoe everywhere.”
“Find a way.”
She charged off and was immediately swallowed up by the group. Nick couldn’t be sure how he felt. He was still reeling from the one-two punch of their kiss.
A small commotion caught his attention and refocused it. There, at the center of the group, stood Holly, Leonard and Candy. Holly appeared on the verge of tears.
“I just don’t understand.”
“Holly, sweetie.” Leonard put an arm around his daughter’s waist. “I know this is hard for you.”
“You obviously don’t know, or you wouldn’t be marrying her. You wouldn’t be marrying anyone.”
Holly ran off then. The crowd parted to let her by. Poor Candy looked ready to cry herself.
“I’m sorry,” Leonard announced. “She still misses her mother.”
Clearly the wrong thing to say, for Candy left then, too. In the opposite direction. Leonard hesitated, as if unsure of which woman to follow. He picked Holly. That probably wouldn’t go over well with Candy, either. A moment later, Emma went after her mother.
Hushed conversations ensued. Nick didn’t want to listen to them. Convinced no one would miss him, he started off toward the parking lot and his truck. Two vehicles over from his, he spotted Emma with her mother.
Not stopping, he climbed into his truck. The problem with Holly was between Leonard and Candy. Not his place to intercede.
Nor was it Emma’s. Unfortunately, from the look on her face and the rate of speed at which her mouth was moving, she was likely doing precisely that.
* * *
EMMA’S MOTHER THREW open the front door. Cole stood on the stoop, tall, broad shouldered and grinning from ear to ear. At his feet sat a small suitcase. “Hey, Mom.”
She launched herself at him. “Cole, honey. It’s wonderful to see you!”
Emma waited, wanting to hug her brother, too, but giving her mother first chance. Behind them, through the open door, she saw Nick’s truck back out of the driveway and head down the street. He’d picked Cole up at the airport and driven him here, a three-hour round trip. The least he deserved was a heartfelt thanks.
Yet he’d left without even getting out of his pickup. Did she really expect to see him after last night? Was she hoping for another kiss?
Absolutely not! How she’d allowed things to go as far as they had was beyond her. Temporary insanity, obviously. The only plausible explanation. What she needed to do, what they both did, was to forget the kiss ever happened. Also, to avoid mistletoe at all costs.
“How was your trip?” Emma’s mother finally released Cole. “Any problems? And where did Nick go in such an all-fire hurry?”
“The trip was great. No problems. Nick took the back roads so we missed traffic. Said he had work to do.” Cole opened his arms to Emma. “How’s my baby sis?”
She squeezed him tight, a lump forming in her throat. “I’ve missed you.” Between her brief visits to Mistletoe and Cole moving to New Orleans a few years ago, they saw each other infrequently.
“You look great. I dig the short hair.” He held her away from him, then dropped his arms in order to put one around their mother. “But not as good as the bride-to-be. She’s stunning.”
“Oh, Cole.” Emma’s mother blushed, then closed the front door behind him. “Come in and get settled. I hate to rush you, but we have an appointment at I Now Pronounce You Wedding Attire in an hour for fittings.”
At some point, Cole’s old room had been turned into a TV den.
Emma’s mother waited in the doorway, fretting. “Sorry about the lack of accommodations.”
He dumped his suitcase on the couch with its hide-away bed. “I can sleep anywhere.”
They were ready to leave in less than an hour. Emma drove, Cole rode shotgun and their mother chatted nonstop from the rear seat.
“Your tux isn’t the same as Leonard’s, Carl’s and Nick’s. I hope you’re okay with the style I picked.”
“Anything you want, Mom.” Cole smiled, showing his dimples.
Emma wondered how it was possible no woman had yet snatched him up.
Gladys Givens waited outside I Now Pronounce You Wedding Attire. The moment they entered the shop, the owner seated them in circle of comfy chairs near the fitting rooms. Next, he brought out a tray with champagne flutes and a plate of chocolate-covered strawberries.
An assistant carried a silver bucket with a bottle of champagne submerged in ice.
Gesturing expansively, the shop owner popped the cork on the champagne and poured four glasses. “Enjoy.”
Emma’s mother giggled. “Drinking at two o’clock in the afternoon. It’s practically immoral.”
“It’s heavenly.” Gladys sipped at her glass, then rubbed her nose as if the bubbles tickled. “Try the strawberries.”
Emma attempted to participate in the good times and enjoy the camaraderie, knowing how important it was to her mother. In truth, she just wasn’t in the mood. Even the champagne, something she usually loved, tasted bland. Taking only a few sips, she set her glass aside.
It had to be their surroundings. There was only one wedding-attire shop in town. Six years ago, she’d purchased her bridal gown and Nick had rented his tux at I Now Pronounce You. They’d sat in these same chairs while sipping champagne and feeding each other strawberries.
Two days after their failed nuptials, Emma had returned the wedding dress to the shop with instructions to forward the refund money to her mother. It had been her final task before leaving town.
“Can I please have some water?” she asked the shop owner, her throat suddenly burning.
“Of course. And I’ll bring more champagne.”
“None for me,” Emma insisted. Another glass and she’d probably break down in tears.
Damn Nick. Why had he kissed her last night? Why had she kissed him back? Her emotions were already a tangled mess where he was concerned. All this close contact on top of everything else wasn’t making it easier.
“Would the young lady like to go first, or the gentleman?” The shop owner smiled broadly. He’d been joined by a petite woman wearing elf ears and a Santa hat and carrying a small seamstress’s box. Emma presumed she was there to help with her gown fitting.
Before Emma could volunteer, Cole sprang up from his chair. “Let’s get this show started.”
A Mistletoe Christmas: Santa's Mistletoe MistakeA Merry Little WeddingMistletoe Magic Page 11