In Mistletoe

by Tammy L. Bailey

  The size of his arousal made her gasp, and she swore she heard a chuckle escape from deep in his throat. Then his kiss slowed and became tender and searching, the penetrating strokes of his velvety tongue teasing her into a knee-buckling surrender. She tasted the sensual sweetness of him, felt the solidity of his chest pressed against her. Every sensation opened to her, the fire of his kiss and the silkiness of his touch. She’d been with men, but none like Ayden, none so capable of sending a lightning surge of passion and need through every cell in her body.

  Chapter Twelve

  Ayden expected to coax Grace through the intimate exchange; he just didn’t expect to be so aroused by it. As her timid fingers trembled at his nape, he rotated her so her back rested against the wall. Despite their difference in heights, she molded to him. He continued to kiss her, to taste her, and stir an invasion that was both demanding and gentle. Lost in the moment, his hands fell to her waist, his fingers sliding under her thin shirt to stroke her tight abdomen. Her skin quivered where he touched her, pulling a low groan from deep in his chest.

  When he ventured higher by gliding his palm under her small, firm breasts, she tensed and drew back. For a few loud heartbeats, he stared into her blushing features. He kept his gaze steady on her face, on the gold flecks dancing in her kaleidoscopic green and brown eyes. He inched forward and slanted his mouth close to hers, relishing as her unsteady exhale glanced across his neck. He bent down and teased her with a whispering kiss, a protesting whimper sending a riveting charge up his spine.

  He shifted his hand to cup her jaw, angling her head to nibble at the sensitive flesh below her earlobe. The sugary smell of her was exhilarating. He wondered, with his heart hammering against his ribcage, how easy would it be for him to guide her toward his bedroom and spend the rest of the evening making love to her? Then again, how easy would it be for her to forget what they’d agreed upon and then find herself lost in the charade?

  Despite what he wanted, what his body wanted, he needed to know she understood that whatever they shared, ended as soon as they found Danielle.

  “Grace,” he murmured against her lips.

  ****

  Grace lifted her hand to Ayden’s chest, her pulse racing inside her veins. To her surprise, Ayden’s features appeared mildly unaffected, as if he’d been here, at this moment, a hundred other times. She wanted him to say something, to differentiate her from the other woman he’d kissed in this hallway and maybe afterward led to his bedroom. Perhaps he’d even carried them. Her gaze wandered to the room he currently occupied, and he called her on it.

  “No. You’re not ready.”

  Grace’s jaw dropped, unable to comprehend the insult. “Ready…ready for what exactly?”

  He clenched and unclenched his jaw before answering her. “Going in there right now would be a mistake, for both of us. You have so much passion, but I want to show you how to feel it without holding your breath, to feel it without losing yourself.”

  She tried to say something, but nothing remotely coherent passed her lips. So, this is how he lived and remained so emotionally unattached, by staying in control of everything?

  She shook her head, disappointed. “Do you mean, without me forgetting how I’m just here to pretend to be in love with you, Ayden?”

  He didn’t glance away, and he didn’t deny what she said was true. She concluded, either she’d have to get used to the idea of feeling nothing but physical attraction for Ayden McCabe or she’d end up on the losing end of their agreement. With more confidence than she felt, she shrugged and imitated one of his obnoxious grins. “Your loss,” she said and traipsed by him. She did turn to see his reaction, finding a smirk that unnerved and melted her at the same time.

  “Your mind is a wondrous thing, Miss Evans,” he said, before backing away, sliding inside the chilly room she’d first occupied and closing the door.

  With the day gone, Grace resigned herself to retiring for the night and finishing her book. Unfortunately, she replaced the longhaired god of a man with a shorted-haired Irish American with cerulean-colored eyes and sensual lips. Oh, she wanted to find some damn mistletoe, and make Ayden kiss her again, and again, and again. Physical, not emotional. Well, she certainly understood the meaning of that phrase now.

  The next morning, she woke to an empty house, a stack of pancakes on the island with a side of bacon, and a note in neat handwriting stuck to the plate.

  Work emergency. Jolene said she’d be by to take you to town, if you want to talk to some folks about Danielle. I will be back soon. Try to eat something.

  Grace stared at the note, memorizing Ayden McCabe’s handwriting, every curve and loop, until she pictured herself as one of his desperate ex-girlfriends throwing a rock through his window at two in the morning. “No,” she said, aloud, unwilling to fall in love with a man who knew less than Rick about what it took to be in a real relationship.

  Instead of chastising herself, she gave in to spreading peanut butter on her pancakes and then laminating them with thick syrup. After inhaling the delicious breakfast, she cleaned the kitchen and took a quick shower in case Jolene was on her way over. Grace had no idea who she might talk to in town, but she couldn’t imagine sitting at Hearth’s Gate without Ayden there.

  Thirty-five minutes later, at half past nine, Jolene’s sputtering Jeep pulled into the semi-circular driveway. Instead of making the older woman step out in the bitter cold, Grace ambled down the porch steps already dressed in the various winter garments that belonged to one of Ayden’s relatives. Jolene waved and beamed at Grace through the salt-dusted windshield.

  “So, what’s on the agenda for today?” the woman asked, maneuvering the vehicle onto the cleared road.

  Grace glanced down at her tan boots, her mind dancing back to Ayden. No. She needed to think about Danielle and her mother. Of course, thinking about them brought her full circle back to Ayden. Foolish. She sighed aloud.

  “Oh, don’t get too discouraged. I’m sure your sister is just fine. She’s a little lost, is all.”

  Ironically, Grace wasn’t thinking about Danielle. She wasn’t even thinking about their mother, who hadn’t been able to handle anything since their father left. Embarrassed by her own selfish thoughts, Grace angled her head toward the passenger side window and let out a slow exhale.

  To keep her mind on track, she tried to remember her and Danielle’s last conversation. Danielle had brought up the possibility of Grace making desserts for her wedding reception.

  “You have to make that custard chocolate sticky-bun piece of heaven you sneak into Neely’s on holidays. Once everyone tastes those things, people will be asking you to bake them for their weddings.”

  Grace had told her sister she’d think about it, wondering if she was opening a door she wasn’t able to walk through. Either way, it didn’t seem to matter what Danielle wanted now.

  “So, Grace, is Ayden bringing you to the Christmas Tree-Lighting Ceremony tonight?”

  The question drew Grace’s gaze back to the thin woman beside her. Jolene with her jovial demeanor, sat waiting patiently for an answer.

  “I…don’t…think…”

  “Not that I’m one to pry, mind you, but I knew the two of you would hit it off right away.” She shrugged her bony shoulders inside her heavy flannel coat. There was something so familiar about the woman, but Grace couldn’t put her finger on it. “I’ll admit though, when Maggie called to tell me he’d introduced you as his girlfriend, I thought, he’s going to marry her someday.”

  Grace’s inhale caught in her throat, making her cough. Jolene reached over and slapped her hard a few times between her shoulder blades before returning her hand to the steering wheel. “You see, when Ayden sees someone he likes, he doesn’t waste any time with small talk.”

  Grace grumbled a “no kidding” under her breath as Jolene carried on with the conversation.

  “So, are you thinking of moving to Mistletoe or continuing a long-distance relationship with Ayden?”
>
  Grace clamped down on her lips, unwilling to give her opinion on anything that involved either her or Ayden’s future.

  “Well, you’d be a wonderful addition to the town. If you’d like, I can see about asking O’Shannon if he has any positions available—”

  “That…really won’t be necessary,” Grace said on a heavy exhale.

  Jolene rotated in Grace’s direction, her eyes large and blinking.

  “I mean, I’m thinking of opening my own bakery and café…in San Francisco…sometime…in the near future,” Grace said, trying not to give away how that dream had vanished seventy-two hours ago.

  “That sounds lovely. We could use one of those around here, especially if we get a few more tourists.”

  Grace shook off the comforting and fantasy-laden thought of staying longer in Mistletoe.

  “Anyway, what kind of desserts do you make?”

  Before Grace could answer, Jolene sucked in a lungful of air. Grace jerked around, thinking she might have spotted Danielle walking across the quiet street.

  “What?”

  “You should make something to bring to the Christmas Tree-Lighting Ceremony.”

  Grace dropped her shoulders started to shake her head when Jolene slapped the steering wheel and then maneuvered the Jeep into a small parking lot adjacent to a gray brick building that read Fresh Market.

  “I need to pick up some things for my famous punch. You’re welcome to purchase a few things to contribute to a dessert. I’ll buy, you bake.”

  A few hours later, Grace was elbow deep in flour. As she mixed and Jolene gossiped about who was taking whom to the Christmas Eve Eve dance in a few weeks, Grace baked her custard-filled chocolate glazed sticky buns.

  Around three thirty, after Jolene left with enough to take to the lighting ceremony, Grace made a few more batches, one of them for Wilhelmina Hawthorne and her husband for being so helpful in finding Danielle a few days before.

  “Danielle,” Grace whispered. She and Jolene had gone to town and had spoken to zero people regarding Danielle. Too caught up in her own thoughts of Ayden and the opportunity to bake, Grace had gone grocery shopping.

  Now, three—or was it four…she’d lost track—days had passed, and she wasn’t any closer to discovering where her sister had disappeared to and why. She realized it had nothing to do with getting cold feet. Grace knew Danielle, and she’d never do something so irrational. Well, almost never. Furthermore, no matter how many times she forced her mind to stay focused on bringing Danielle back home, mostly for their mom’s sake, it always strayed toward Ayden.

  He was like no other man Grace had ever met. Despite his bachelor creed, there was something so domestic and spousal about him, something lasting and eternal. He held her hand in public places, gave her his undivided attention in others. Despite the fact he had more ex-girlfriends than she had excuses, she was still drawn to him.

  Shaking her head to clear her mind of him, at least for a while, she closed the extra buns in a cake container and set them on the counter.

  With the day already getting late and still no word from Ayden, she thought about going outside for some fresh air. Standing on the porch, the warm maroon and gray fleece around her shoulders, she gazed around at her majestic soundings. She breathed deep and exhaled slow, loving the way her breath crystalized in midair. Yes, it was a wondrous place, made for a man whose reputation and elusiveness exceeded him.

  She stepped to go back inside when the stone house next door caught her attention. She stared at the whimsical fairytale building with its sharply pointed thatched roof and tall diamond-paned glass windows. Both boredom and curiosity pulled her along the cobblestone path until she found herself standing at the red door, hesitant to go inside.

  “If it’s locked, I’ll go back,” she said. Only, the knob turned easily and the wind pushed at her back, propelling her inside the capricious home.

  The main area was quaint with plenty of light filtering in through a set of sheer curtains. Where a cozy sofa or high-back chair may have existed sat two powerful woodcutting machines with a mountain of sawdust piled underneath them. Above hung a wood beam ceiling, adding to its wistful comfort.

  Without any heat, however, she only stayed long enough to pass the narrow winding staircase and a charming kitchen with a stone fireplace and baby blue-painted cabinets. She thought it would make an adorable shop, minus the sawdust and power tools, of course.

  On a sigh, she pivoted and headed back to the main house. She’d barely stepped into the foyer when her phone rang. On purpose, she’d chosen not to talk to her mother since their last conversation, afraid to answer questions about Ayden or tell her she didn’t have any further news on Danielle.

  Grace let out a breath when the display screen showed her friend’s number instead.

  “Hello,” Grace said, smiling.

  “Hey, have you found Danielle, yet?”

  Grace sank down on a bench next to the staircase. “No. It’s the strangest thing, Betsy. No one’s seen her.” She left out the part about her having the opportunity to talk to people today and instead, made dessert for a Christmas Tree-Lighting ceremony.

  “So, is Ayden taking you?” her friend asked, her voice steady and excited.

  Grace shook her head, wondering if she’d somehow voiced her thoughts aloud. “I’m not—”

  “Well, of course he is, right?”

  Typical Betsy, Grace thought. Her friend hated Rick and was determined to set her up with any man who she happened to cross paths with, even desperate strangers.”

  “I don’t know. He’s sort of…unavailable.”

  “What? You mean he’s married?”

  “Um…he’s—” Grace tried to answer, finally giving up when her attempt to explain Ayden McCabe failed. “It’s complicated.”

  “Oh, God. Tell me you’re not seeing a married guy, Grace. That’s worse than the loser you can’t rid yourself of now.”

  “Speaking of the loser, I mean, Rick.” Grace rolled her eyes. “Has he stopped by any more?”

  Betsy clicked her tongue. “Yeah, a few more times. He’s acting all pathetic…I mean, more pathetic than usual. He keeps asking about Ayden and how you met him.”

  “What did you tell him?” Grace shuffled into the kitchen to get a glass of water, waiting for Betsy to come up with a clever reply.

  “Oh, that you answered some gorgeous guy’s mail-order-bride advertisement and flew up there to test the sex out before you committed to anything.”

  Grace choked on her water, spitting most of it onto the kitchen floor. Why she chose to take a gulp and ask her friend questions at the same time, she didn’t know. “Please, tell me you didn’t?”

  “No, but I wanted to. You deserve better than that jackass, Gracie.”

  At this point, Grace didn’t know what she deserved, but she knew what she wanted, at least what she needed to change to get it. Just breathe and remain emotionally detached so no one gets hurt.

  “Look,” her friend said. “I have to go, but try not to worry. You might be surprised how this all ends up. Go Hawks.”

  Grace smiled, missing her most peculiar friend. “Go Hawks,” she repeated, ending the call and going upstairs to put on her football jersey and a pair of comfortable pants. The game would be on soon, and she didn’t want to miss kickoff, or Ayden when he returned. She only hoped, when he did return, he didn’t smell like a woman’s perfume and have a solid excuse of why he was wearing it.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ayden parked his truck in the driveway with the snow flying and his watch showing a half past four. He had been called to a remote worksite where there was no phone reception, nor was there a way to contact Grace to let her know he’d be a while getting back.

  It didn’t help that Gregg Dunlap, his second-line supervisor and second-in-command, teased him endlessly about trusting a woman he’d just met to stay in his house alone. “Wait until you get there and find half your possessions stolen, then you’l
l never leave another woman alone again.”

  Ayden chuckled and reassured the man Grace wouldn’t take a bar of soap from a hotel room, much less his family’s silver heirlooms.

  “Okay, but when you get there and find your TV missing, you can join me at O’Shannon’s where I’ll be after the lighting ceremony, watching the second half of the Seahawks and Niners game. I owe you a beer from last week, anyway.”

  Ayden declined the offer. He admitted to himself, though grudgingly, he was more anxious about finding a goodbye note from Grace than a missing expensive flat screen. He was sure she was mad as hell about not hearing from him all day and had concluded he was with another woman, or something else. With that thought plaguing him, he headed back to Hearth’s Gate. When he walked onto the porch, he didn’t like what he saw. Every window cast a daunting shadow of abandonment.

  Yanked into a foul mood, he drove his key into the lock and tried to blame his disappointment on her not holding up her end of the bargain. The truth was, he couldn’t stop, for one minute, thinking about her careful smile or the kiss they shared the night before.

  One minute timid, the next minute daring, she always kept him guessing. Regarding women, he admitted he demanded a lot from them, physically. If they wanted to stop at the beginning of making love to talk about how he felt regarding starting a family, he knew it was over.

  With Grace, he couldn’t stop thinking about how her gaze wandered to his bedroom and how he’d stopped himself from taking her in there. She fired up his soul, and he thought all day of how to get her alone once more, to teach her the many ways they could satisfy each other, without words or faithful promises.

  Then again, he’d never seen his house so dark. Every light was off, as if the occupant had left in the middle of the day with no intention of returning. The thought hit him hard, his breath growing heavier the closer he drew to his door. If she’d left him a damn note, he wouldn’t even attempt to read it. With his gut twisting and his heart thumping to an obnoxious beat, he entered the house and headed to the kitchen, flipping on the overhead lights.