Mistletoe Kisses & Christmas Wishes: A Christmas Romance Boxed Set Book Bundle Collection

by Leah Atwood

  “Which do you want?” Cannon asked.

  Chelsea nabbed one of the pieces of bacon and nibbled the end. Realizing they hadn’t said grace, she set it back down before it could tempt her more. “I don’t care. It all looks great. We could share?”

  He nodded. “Sounds good. Want to say grace?”

  “Sure.” She bowed her head and thanked God for their food and for the fact that she knew He already had an answer for her situation. And she felt better immediately after acknowledging it. “Amen.”

  A sigh eased from her and when she looked over at Cannon, he was smiling gently.

  She twisted her lips. “You knew praying would put me in a better frame of mind.”

  “Yes.” He picked up a fork and cut the omelet in half. “Now are you ready to hear my story?”

  She gave in to her stomach and took a big bite of bacon. She closed her eyes at the wonder of the salty taste, then spoke around the bite. “Sure. Tell me.”

  He took a breath. “When I was in high school I was an actor.”

  She frowned. “Like in the school play?”

  He chuckled. “No. I was one of the main actors on a police procedural drama that ran for several years.”

  “You were? Which one?”

  “Blue Streets. You ever heard of it?”

  Chelsea leaned forward. “Get out!” He had been an actor on Blue Streets? “I’ve heard of that show! I’ve never watched it—sorry!” She cringed, then hurried to amend the gaff with, “But I’m sure I would have watched it if I had time.”

  He grinned and slathered butter on his half of the pancakes. “It’s okay. Anyhow…I still get residuals from it.”

  “Residuals? Like royalties, or something?” Her thoughts flashed over the last few days. The two hundred dollar tip. The amounts of money he’d spent on meals without blinking. The extra things he’d purchased like his car rental, paying for her ice skating, and the hats and gloves and scarves he’d bought when they went to Leavenworth. All of it added up and probably would have taxed a missionary’s salary. Still none of it was too extravagant – well maybe except the two hundred dollar tip – so he probably wasn’t raking in the dough. And why was he telling her this anyhow?

  He stilled then, and looked up. “Chelsea. I want you to relax and not worry about getting another job for a bit. I want you to be able to explore your options and decide what it is you’d really love to do in life. And to do that, you need to have free time.”

  Free time. Wouldn’t that be nice. But… “I don’t really have a lot of savings, Cannon. And bills have to be paid.” She froze. Wait… he wasn’t…

  He must have seen the understanding dawning on her face because he nodded, grinned, stuffed in a bite of pancakes and chewed, just watching her.

  She shook her head. “Cannon, I can’t let you pay my bills. That’s too much! I have rent and a car payment and electricity and food is not the cheapest in Seattle either.”

  “Would ten thousand dollars get you through till I get back mid-February?”

  “Ten— Cannon!” It was nearly the end of December. Did the man think she lived in a high rise with prime ocean views and ate caviar and t-bone steaks for every meal? “That would be more than enough, yes, way more, but I can’t let you pay my bills.” Still the thought of having that burden lifted from her. Of being able to take a little time and breathe before jumping into another job, that was heavenly.

  “Why can’t you?”

  “Because, I just…wouldn’t feel right about taking money from you.”

  He seemed to ponder for a bit as he polished off the portion of her hash browns that she slid his way. “Okay, well, it’s almost Christmas. So will you at least promise me that you’ll let your mind rest for a few days? Get through the wedding tomorrow? Relax a bit. Think about this again on Monday?”

  Monday.

  Dread crept in. He would be flying out on Sunday and she would be all alone again then. They only had today and tomorrow left together, for now. The least she could do was chill out for a few days. She wasn’t going to be able to start job hunting during Christmas weekend, anyhow.

  She sighed. “Okay, I’ll stop stressing. At least try to. But I’m a little worried about Aunt Flo.”

  Cannon slid his now empty plate aside, propped his elbows on the table, curved one palm over a fist, and rested his chin on his hands. There was a glimmer of something not quite definable in his expression. “You amaze me, you know that?”

  The way he said it, softly with no condescension, was like a warm quilt on a cold winter day.

  “Why?”

  “You have such a big heart. I love that about you.”

  She didn’t know what to say to that so she just held her silence. For a long moment, they just looked at each other, and she wished she had the freedom to lean across the table, give him a kiss, and tell him how much she was going to miss him. Finally, she dared to breathe the question that had been weighing on her since he mentioned it. “So, are you going to take the job here in Seattle?”

  “Are you going to be here waiting for me when I get back?” he retorted.

  She smiled. Felt her heart beating in her throat. Barely squeezed out, “Yes.”

  He grinned. “Then I’m going to take the job.”

  He reached for the check, examined it, then dug out his wallet and left some bills on the table to cover it. “For now” —he stood and held out a hand to her—”want to come with me to buy a cell phone and a laptop?”

  “Yes.” She took his hand and let him pull her from the booth, pushing away thoughts about how, if something went wrong again, they could be forced to spend a month and a half apart without being able to communicate with each other. How he might return to Africa only to change his mind and decide to stay. Her heart would be broken, but this was a chance she couldn’t afford not to take. If he broke her heart she would deal with it when the time came.

  He stopped by the car. “You don’t look like you are feeling too well.”

  She sighed. She might as well tell him. “I’m trying to believe this isn’t just all a fairy tale, Cannon. That you aren’t going to disappear into thin air. But I’m having a hard time. You are a little too good to be true.”

  “Too good to be true, huh? Well, I’ll just have to put my mind to use figuring out a way to prove myself to you.”

  “You would do that?”

  “I would most definitely do that.”

  Aunt Flo had never cared one way or the other what Chelsea thought when she’d promised something but not followed through. Chelsea kicked at a spot on the pavement, then grabbed the handle of the car and met his gaze over the top. “Maybe you just did.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The rest of Friday seemed to pass by in a flash and before she knew it, she was standing under a light in the church parking lot, saying goodbye to Cannon after the rehearsal dinner. All the bridesmaids had planned to crash at Havyn’s place for the night for one last girl-bash before Havyn’s big day.

  “I’d planned to go back and close up the coffee shop and then go meet them at her place, but I guess I don’t have to do that now.”

  “No. You don’t. And it’s not your fault. Maybe this will be good for your aunt. Help her see that she’s got some unreasonable expectations.” He leaned close and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Go have fun with the girls. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Every time they parted, the man took a bigger chunk of her heart with him. And they had so little time left. She wanted nothing more than to spend the entirety of their last day together, but with the way Havyn had planned out the day… “Tomorrow’s going to be a bit hectic.”

  “I know.” He stroked one finger over her cheek, then stepped back and slid his hands into his pockets. “Save me a dance at the reception.”

  She smiled softly. “You can have all of them.”

  “And to think you would barely have lunch with me when I got here on Monday,” he teased.

  “You’re ri
ght.” She tapped her chin in pretended thought. “I might have to rethink my offer.”

  “Hey now…” He tilted his head, his eyes soft.

  If only she could tell the girls they were on their own and spend the evening with Cannon instead, but behind her a horn honked.

  “Come on, love birds! Break it up!”

  Chelsea tossed a glance over her shoulder and grinned. She was catching a ride with the other bridesmaids and letting him take her car back to his hotel and he was just going to leave his own rental car in the paid parking lot. “I have to go.”

  He nodded. Pulled out her keys. But neither of them moved. After a long moment he grinned. “Night, Chelsea.”

  “Night.” She forced herself to turn away then, and didn’t even care when the girls gave her a good ribbing after she climbed into the backseat.

  How could her world be falling so totally apart and yet feel like it had never been better at the same time?

  Havyn and Levi’s Christmas Eve wedding couldn’t have been more beautiful. When the Hawaiian lilies had fallen through, Havyn had chosen to go with red poinsettias instead. They were stunning next to the red and white roses, and offset perfectly by the spruce greenery the florists had chosen. Tiny potted arbor vita, perfectly conical and decorated with red and white lights, adorned the end of every other bench down the main aisle. Soft Christmas carols played from the speakers as Chelsea stood on the platform hoping she wasn’t going to forget any of the things she was supposed to be doing.

  She fluffed Havyn’s train, and passed over the ring, and smiled through her moisture-blurred vision as Levi bumbled through his vows blinking back tears of his own, her heart so full of happiness for her friends.

  Pastor Chad pronounced them husband and wife and Levi kissed Havyn thoroughly, even bending her over backwards to the cheers of the guests.

  Chelsea laughed, certain if she felt any more happiness in that moment her heart would burst. And then she was retreating down the aisle after the happy couple and looked into the audience to find Cannon’s admiring gaze on her. In that moment she knew her happiness hadn’t even been nearly at its full capacity yet.

  The reception rooms, festooned with swags of spruce, holly, and mistletoe, soon filled to capacity with happy guests and Chelsea bustled after Havyn, making sure all her needs were taken care of. Bringing her juice. Running to find her comfortable shoes. Fetching her the silk jacket that matched her dress when she rubbed her arms to work away a chill as she chatted with some guests. The decorative cake cutting knife had somehow disappeared, so she hurried to the kitchen to find it or a suitable replacement. And finally the DJ started up the music and Levi pulled his bride out onto the dance floor for their first dance as husband and wife.

  Chelsea sighed in contentment as she watched them murmur softly to each other, Havyn’s skirt swooping out around them each time they changed directions. Her duties were almost done and thankfully she hadn’t botched anything too badly. There were no gifts because Havyn and Levi had specifically requested that in lieu of gifts to them, a donation be made to the Seattle Children’s Hospital. Havyn and Levi would need to get on the road soon if they were going to catch their flight to New Zealand tonight. She glanced at her watch. Thirty-five minutes. She needed to remind them then to start heading out.

  Someone touched her elbow and she turned to see who it was.

  Cannon. Looking more amazing than any man had a right to in his navy blue suit and Christmas red shirt. Her pulse skittered and then nose dived in dread. Their last evening together. “Hi.”

  “Have you eaten?”

  She smoothed her hands over the velvet of her dress and shook her head. “No. Not yet.”

  “Come on.” He tugged on her hand and led her to the buffet, placing a plate into her hands. When her plate was full he directed her to a table where he pulled out a chair and sat beside her. He leaned his elbow onto the table and propped his head onto one fist, studying her obtrusively.

  She felt the heat begin to crawl up her neck, and cast him a surreptitious peek.

  He grinned. “You look amazing tonight.”

  She looked away, feeling terribly shy. “Thank you.” Oh how she was going to miss him!

  “It’s Christmas Eve.”

  She frowned. Glanced at him. Took another bite of her cold ham. “I know that.”

  He pulled an envelope from his pocket. “In my family we always exchanged gifts on Christmas Eve. My dad said it was because we didn’t believe in Santa. I think it was just because he couldn’t wait any longer to see how we liked our gifts.”

  She smiled at that. “How sweet.” Curiosity piqued, her gaze dropped to the envelope in his hands.

  With a smile, he slid it toward her. “I fly out really early in the morning and I wanted to give this to you before I left.”

  She squinted him a look. “I don’t have a gift for you.”

  He shook his head. “I didn’t expect you to.”

  Slowly, she dragged the envelope closer to her. “This isn’t fair, mister.”

  He only grinned.

  Her heart beat rapidly in her chest as she lifted the envelope and palpated its contents.

  Every year, for as many years as she could remember, Aunt Flo had given her the same gift. A twenty-five dollar gift card to Fred Meyer. Never wrapped. Never a surprise. Just handed it to her on Christmas morning before going back to her room to read while Chelsea fixed lunch for them.

  Maybe because of that, she wanted to savor this moment and stretch out the suspense a little.

  The envelope was printed with a pile of colorful Christmas presents in one corner. It was bulky and contained something about the thickness of a packet of tissues. Bendable. Didn’t smell like anything much. She peered at him over the top of it.

  Cannon chuckled. “Open it.”

  Carefully she tucked her fingernail under one corner of the seal and worked it open. Her eyes widened as she pulled the top apart to reveal a stack of one hundred dollar bills. “Cannon! I told you this was too much!”

  He only lounged back in his chair, legs stretched out before him, and folded his hands over his stomach. “I heard you.”

  “Cannon…”

  “You mean a lot to me, Chels. And it would mean even more to me if you let me take care of you right now.” He tilted his head. Scrubbed at his brow with one finger. “Please take the money? It’s a Christmas gift.”

  Her pride and hurt over what Aunt Flo had done, battled with the hunger to just let go and let someone else take care of her for a change. And it was only a moment before the latter won. She pressed the envelope to her chest, blinking hard to keep back tears. “Thank you.”

  He eased out a breath and seemed to relax. “You’re welcome.”

  She tucked the envelope into her purse, feeling more than a little relief and amazement.

  A new song started and several people stepped onto the dance floor.

  In one languid movement, Cannon rose. “Dance with me?”

  She stood and took his hand, but instead of pulling her onto the dance floor, he led her down a short hallway and back into the sanctuary. They were the only ones in there, but the Christmas lights were still on, as well as a few of the canned ones that highlighted the aisles and exits. Just enough luminosity to offer a welcome glow.

  The music drifted in softly and Cannon paused at the back of the room and pulled her into his arms. He moved slowly, studying her intently.

  She rested her hands against his shoulders. Moved them a little further and found the softness of the curls at his nape.

  He tucked her closer and pressed his cheek to her ear. The warmth of his breath fanned over her neck. “I’m going to miss you, Chels.”

  She pressed her lips together and offered a tiny nod. “Me too. When is your flight?” She hadn’t wanted to ask exactly when, all week.

  “I leave at three a.m.”

  The finality of it seemed to sap her strength.

  “Seven weeks, Chels. I�
��ll be back in seven weeks.”He stopped dancing and set her back from him. “I have something else.” He pulled a small square box out of his coat pocket.

  Her heart hammered in earnest this time because the box was obviously from a jeweler.

  He didn’t hand it to her, but instead flipped open the top and pulled out an intricate filigree ring. He looked up and her panic must have been showing in her face because he hurried to say, “Don’t freak out. This is just a promise ring from me to you. A promise that I’ll be back. A promise that we’ll take things slow. A promise that I hope we’ll have lots more Christmases to explore mochas and” —one corner of his mouth ticked up—”mistletoe.” His brows pumped. “May I?” he reached for her hand.

  She smiled softly as he slipped the ring on her right hand. She looked at it, felt it with her thumb. Admired the tiny sapphire embedded in the swirls of silver. Then she melted against him and took the lapels of his jacket in her hands. “It’s beautiful. Too bad there’s no mistletoe around right now so I could give you a proper thank you.”

  His brows lifted. “Well, I think we could maybe forego the mistletoe…just this once…” His lips brushed a tiny request for permission against hers.

  She lifted up on tiptoe, and smiled before she kissed him. “Maybe…just this once.” With that, she pressed her mouth to his, and contentment enshrouded her like the warmth of spring after a long trek through winter.

  Like she had finally come home.

  Dear Reader of Mistletoe and Mochas,

  Words are such powerful tools. They can buoy someone on the heights of encouragement, or sink someone into the depths of despondency. Hurtful words slice and burrow right down into the very core of who we are and, whether we know it or not, impact how we act and what we believe about ourselves. In Chelsea and Cannon’s story, I hope you’ve been reminded to carefully consider your own words – even the words you speak about yourself. I know I’m often reminded to check my words – too often after I’ve already misspoken. So this Christmas season I hope we’ll all consider the message from 1 Corinthians 13. Do our words convey patience, kindness, and love?