Mistletoe and Mochas: A Christmas Romance Novella (Hearts of Hollywood Book 2)

by Lynnette Bonner

  “Well, that’s good because he was about to have to eat lunch on his own!”

  He loved the melodic sound of the chuckle that accompanied her words.

  She propped her elbow against the door and rested her head into one fist, studying him. “Still, I’ll be on my guard, for sure. Definitely something sketchy about him.”

  “Sketchy!?” He did his best to look wounded. “I bet a guy like that wouldn’t make a girl he asked out pay for her own meal.”

  She wrinkled her nose as though she was still undecided about his fate. “Well, I guess there’s only one way to find out. But first” —she pointedly glanced at the still unmoving vehicle— “we have to get rolling.”

  He leaned toward her, resting his elbow on the console between the seats. He caught a whiff of something floral that made his pulse skitter like spilled nails on a steep tin roof. “Help a sketchy guy out and tell him which way to drive, would you?”

  She pointed in the direction the car was already facing. “Just follow your headlights.”

  He was reluctant to pull away from her, so he held his ground for a moment, letting himself revel in her beauty. She had a natural attractiveness that most women could only mimic with lots of makeup. A tiny scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. He’d remembered them as darker, but maybe they darkened when she got more sun. Long brown eyelashes framed her eyes. They were almost emerald, and with that rim of holly-green border they caught him off guard at times. Like now when she was looking at him with a mixture of longing and terror in her expression. He swallowed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t able to contact you sooner.”

  That was the wrong thing to say. A visible shutter veiled her gaze and she shifted back from him.

  Behind them someone honked. He glanced in the mirror. A car waited on the street with its blinker on, obviously wanting their spot. He wanted to wait to explain until he could look her in the eye and make sure she knew what torture the long silence had been for him as well. And, from the frosty disposition that had suddenly overtaken her, he knew it was going to be a long drive to wherever she was taking him, even if it was just down the block.

  As Cannon put the car into gear Chelsea scooped her hair back from her face and studied the December sunshine weakly attempting to overcome the freezing temperatures. At least the roads would be clear. Did Cannon, who spent most of his time in Africa, even know anything about driving in slick conditions?

  “Take a right up ahead and then you’ll merge onto the freeway with a left at the light.”

  She held her breath waiting to see if he might offer his supposed explanation, but all he did was follow her directions and hold his silence.

  As the silence stretched, her pique grew. If he thought she was going to make this easy on him by chattering a bunch of small talk, he had another think coming. She gave him clipped directions all the way to the pier and when he pulled into the parking space, she climbed out of the car before he could even remove the keys from the ignition.

  “Chelsea.”

  His door closed and the locks engaged with a chirp.

  She squeezed the bridge of her nose. She was acting like a two-year-old. Stopping, she waited for him, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his gaze. Instead, she studied the Christmas-light-draped marina.

  “Chels.” He touched her elbow, defeat coating his tone. “I wanted to wait to explain till we could have a face to face conversation.”

  She still couldn’t find her voice. She hadn’t realized exactly how hurt she’d been by his silence until he’d walked into Flo’s this morning.

  He caressed short strokes against the soft material by her elbow making her all too aware of how good it felt to have him so near again. Tilting his head, he asked, “Is there someplace we can talk before we go in to eat?”

  “Cannon.” She did look up at him then, hating the hurt that crept into her voice. “I don’t know if I can do this again.”

  His shoulders slumped slightly and he rested his hands on his hips. He studied the pier for a moment, then tucked the corner of his lip between his teeth and lifted his gaze to her. “It’s not what you think, Chels, honest. If I could have called or emailed I would have. It was killing me not to be able to reach you.”

  She quirked a brow. Did she believe him? “Tell me.”

  Reaching out, he took her hand and led her to the closest bench. He sat down facing her with one arm stretched along the back of the bench. “The day after you flew home, I arrived back at my house to find that one of the puppies had chewed through the landline wiring right at the wall.”

  Chelsea pressed her lips together to prevent a grin. That, she could totally believe. Levi had brought one of the pups home with him for Havyn, and Baby, as they had dubbed the puppy, had been nothing but trouble from the moment of her arrival.

  “I drove into Dedza right away and let the telephone company know, but they still hadn’t fixed it when I left just a couple days ago.”

  She arched a brow for him to go on. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a computer or cell phone to use.

  He cringed a little as he continued. “That afternoon I had to run by the building site one last time to do a final inspection on the repairs being made after the attack.”

  Chelsea shuddered at the memory of diving behind the brick wall of the school they’d just finished building to avoid the flying bullets. A local cult group, the Nyao, had been disgruntled – to put it lightly – by the Americans’ presence and had made their displeasure known with a show of force. Then had come the worry over Havyn, who’d been grazed by a bullet and knocked unconscious. She folded her arms, swallowing down a whole host of emotions the memories dredged to the surface – not the least of which was that Cannon had been by her side, comforting her, and encouraging her every step of the way.

  Cannon squeezed her hand and gave her a searching look as if asking if she was okay.

  She nodded and withdrew her hand from the tantalizing warmth of his grasp. If she was going to maintain her stoic composure toward the man, she had to avoid too much of that.

  A low breath eased from him and he winced, giving her a you-are-never-going-to-believe-this look. “When I got back to my truck, someone had broken into it and stolen my laptop and my phone. I had all your information in them and couldn’t remember any of it except your email address, somebody’s Chelsea at flos dot com.”

  Chelsea couldn’t suppress a grin. It was hard to forget an email address like hers, especially if you were at all familiar with the Reba Macintyre song by the same title. Still, she gave him props for being able to spit it out so flawlessly all these weeks later.

  A little relief seemed to ease the tension in his features as he took in her grin. “It was two weeks before I was able to get back to the capitol and get to a store where I could replace the stolen items. But both had to be put on order.”

  Of course. It wasn’t like he could drive over to the mall and find everything he needed. But it wasn’t like there weren’t other missionaries whose computers he could have borrowed to let her know his situation.

  He shrugged. “I could have maybe borrowed someone’s computer to email you, but that night we got the word I was needed back out at the village to deal with a hitch in some supplies for the school house. And I spent three weeks sorting out and hunting down missing items we had ordered and paid for, but never received.”

  Chelsea remembered how secluded the area they’d all stayed in was, and couldn’t deny that her heart went out to the man just a little. Three weeks totally alone with not another soul who spoke your language or understood your culture. He really did make a lot of sacrifices for his job.

  Cannon sighed and took her hand in his once more. “Chels, the only reason I’m even able to be here is that the wife of another missionary took pity on me and made my reservations for me. It was killing me not to be able to contact you. My laptop and phone never did come in before I left the country and I had to cancel the order. I’ll just have to p
ick some up while I’m here.”

  She swallowed. So maybe she’d been a little hard on him. But could they really make a relationship work? “H-how long will you be in town?”

  For a long moment he simply studied her, his fingers playing with the ring on her thumb.

  There was a hint of something indecisive in his expression. Did he not know when he was leaving? Hope ignited a warm sensation in her chest.

  But then he said, “I leave the day after the wedding.”

  Hope doused, she eased back against the bench. One week. Her jaw clenched. What was the point in dredging up all the old feelings if he was only going to be here for one week and then gone for who knew how long?

  And “dredging”? Who was she kidding? If the emotions she was feeling just from having her hand clasped in his were any indication, there would be no dredging necessary. Then in a week he’d be gone, and she’d be right back to her familiar miserable self. Did she really want to go through all that again? No. She’d better put a stop to this right now.

  She pulled her hand from his, curled it into a fist and shoved it into her lap to avoid the inclination to lay it against the stubble lining his angular cheek. “Cannon, listen. I get it. I know you make a lot of sacrifices for your job. And I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t good to see you again. It is. But” —she waved a hand toward the distance— “your job is there. And mine is here. And if this time has shown us anything, maybe it’s that a relationship between us would be too hard and isn’t meant to be.”

  Cannon reached out and touched her chin, bending till their gazes locked. “Do you really believe that?”

  She swallowed. She did, didn’t she?

  He shook his head. “Because I don’t. If anything, this time apart showed me how important you became to me in the two short weeks you were in my life. No woman has ever occupied my thoughts like you have for the past weeks, Chels.” His fingers slid back into her hair and his palm settled against her face as his thumb caressed tantalizing strokes against her cheekbone. “Let’s give this a chance.”

  It felt like every cell in her body had leapt to high alert. She could hear her pulse pounding in her ears. This man made her feel things. Crazy things. She would hate herself later if she agreed and then found herself, once more, abandoned. But how could she not at least give this a chance?

  A frown tugged at his brow. “Chels?”

  “How about we start with lunch?”

  A full-out grin stretched across his face. “Lunch is a fantastic idea.”

  Consternation jabbed her. Had she given him too much hope? “Cannon.” She leveled him with a look. “I want to be clear. I’m not convinced we can make this work, but I’m not to the point of being certain it won’t. So…I guess…let’s just…” Just what? She didn’t even know. She blew out a frustrated breath.

  Cannon pulled her to her feet. “I promise not to push too hard, Chels. Let’s just take it a day at a time. For now, let’s eat lunch and you can tell me all about what’s been happening in your life lately.”

  Chapter 3

  Relief coursing through him, Cannon followed Chelsea past the large Christmas tree with the fake presents beneath it on the walk out front and through the garland festooned doorway into the main part of the restaurant. At least she hadn’t outright called him a liar. Or said she didn’t want anything to do with him. Things would be difficult, sure. But given time, they could make this work. He hoped.

  Christmas lights and evergreen swags decorated the interior of the restaurant. Combined with the everyday décor some of it had him chuckling – like the two kissing fish on the wall with mistletoe hung above their heads.

  The Ivar’s hostess led them to a table near one of the windows overlooking the bay. Chelsea chatted with her as they walked, asking about her little boy who apparently had been in the hospital the last time Chelsea had been here.

  The hostess smiled and hugged her before she sat down. “He’s doing so much better. In remission the doctors are calling it. We are taking one day at a time, but life holds hope again.”

  “I’m so glad to hear that!” Chelsea practically squealed and did bounce up and down a couple times. “I’ve been praying for Ricky and I’ll keep on. I’m so happy for you two!”

  “Thank you.” The hostess had mist in her eyes as she set their menus on the table before them and hurried away.

  “You know her from somewhere other than here?” Cannon pulled off his knit cap and ruffled a hand through his curly locks, but by the look on Chelsea’s face and the way she pressed her lips together to keep from laughing he knew his finger-comb probably hadn’t helped much. He grinned. “I have hat hair, don’t I?”

  Her small laugh ignited a spark in her eyes that gave him a warm-as-a-mocha feeling he could revel in all day, if given a choice.

  She nodded and offered a mischievous wink. “But you look fine, I promise. And no, I met Heidi for the first time a few weeks back when Aunt Flo and I were in here for lunch. She looked discouraged, and I asked her if there was something I could pray for her about, and that’s when she told me about her son. I can’t tell you how thrilled I am to hear that he’s doing well.” Her laughter tinkled like Christmas bells, matching the holiday music pumping through the speakers.

  He sank into his chair, more because his knees gave out than because that was the appropriate thing to do at that moment. “It’s good to hear your laugh again.”

  Good? It was amazing. And if he wasn’t careful he was going to scare her off. The menu. Focus on the menu.

  Cannon kept the conversation light, and lunch passed in a friendly fashion. He plied her with questions and she filled him in on Flo’s, the wedding, and even about the idiot, Ted, who’d tried to kiss her that morning. Good thing he hadn’t known about that when the guy stormed past him earlier today.

  They had long-since finished the brownie à la mode they’d shared when her phone made a sharp chirping sound. She glanced at it and gasped. “Oh crumb! I’m due at the dress shop in fifteen minutes to help Havyn and finalize our fittings.” Her gaze flew to his. “Do you mind coming with me? I’m going to be even more late if I have to run get my car at Flo’s.”

  “Of course not.” Cannon stood and dropped several bills into the little black folder that held their check, and by the time he looked up she was already half way across the restaurant.

  He shook his head and hurried after her. Life with Chelsea would never be boring, that was for certain. Boy, the girl could move when she put her mind to it. But he’d nearly caught up to her now. She rushed out the doors, stopped and spun toward him. “Do you mind if I drive because—”

  “—Whoa!” He nearly bowled her over and had to grasp her arms to keep her from falling. He gripped her firmly. “You okay?”

  She nodded but seemed at a loss for words. Her eyes were large and round and he was suddenly aware of her palms resting flat against his chest. He let her go slowly, but it was a moment before she stepped back. Her brow crinkled in the cutest way, like she was trying to remember what she’d been about to say.

  “You want to drive because…?”

  “Oh, right! I know exactly where I’m going and the back streets will be faster, but there are lots of one-ways down here and if you miss one sometimes you have to go a few blocks out of the way and that can actually add at least an hour of…” She must have noticed his grin because she trailed to a stop.

  “And here I thought you just didn’t like my African style driving.” He held the keys out to her.

  She took them. “Well, that’s the real reason. I just—you know—didn’t want to hurt your feelings.” Her quick wink belied the statement.

  True to her word, Chels seemed to know every back road and shortcut through the hills of Seattle and they pulled up in front of the dress shop only seven minutes late.

  Through the front window of the shop, Cannon could see Levi pacing. He grinned at Chelsea. “I thought it was bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress?�
��

  Chelsea made a dismissive noise and waved a hand at him. “Havyn and Levi don’t go in for that kind of stuff. They’re too down to earth for that.”

  The bell above the door jangled as she pushed through. Havyn was already standing in front of a three way mirror and a woman was marking the hem.

  “Hey you two. Sorry I’m late. Look who I ran into today?”

  Levi and Havyn welcomed him like long lost family and he realized how good it felt to be with all these people again. His job really could get lonely sometimes. A burly man in a black suit stood at discreet attention in one corner of the room. A bodyguard? No one else in the room seemed to be paying the man any mind.

  The dressmaker looked at Chelsea. “Your dress is in the second dressing room. Let’s give it one last look too.”

  “Okay, I’ll run try it on.” Chelsea disappeared into the back for a few minutes and when she came back wearing a deep green dress, it was almost more than Cannon could do to keep his jaw from hitting the floor.

  It wasn’t just her beauty. Nor was it the shy way she bit her lip and glanced over at him as if to see if he liked the dress.

  It was only a moment. A fleeting glimpse into history that took him back to the summer he’d been fifteen and living in California. The summer he’d thought for sure that acting was going to be his career. He’d gotten a role as the son of the lead officer in a police procedural drama, Blue Streets. And the girl who’d been his love interest was actress Lainey Keeson. She was only supposed to be his love interest on the show, but Lainey had a personality that wove its way into the lives of everyone she met and made them care deeply. She was sweet, and shy, and compassionate. And after four years of working together she had captured his heart. He’d thought they might get married. But she’d been killed in a car accident on her way to the set one day in mid-July the year he’d been nineteen. The show never recovered and had been cancelled six months later.

  Acting had never held appeal for him after that. And he’d switched his major and gone into architectural engineering instead.