Perfect Bride for Christmas, A

by Dyann Love Barr

  “What if it were something worse?”

  “You pick your battles because there’s no way to keep them wrapped in cotton. They have to grow up, understand there are consequences for their actions.”

  “Okay, okay,” he let out a shuddering breath. At least the momentary scare got rid of his hard-on.

  “This is minor compared to some of the things they’ve done. One day I’d been in the kitchen, whipping up some chocolate frosting for cupcakes 181

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  and I got a phone call. I guess they were two at the time, anyway, I’d only left them in their play area for, oh, less than two minutes. When I came back they were covered from head to toe. Macy, the little monkey, had figured out how to undo the latch.”

  “Scary stuff, huh?”

  “Yes. I’ve got to go. My toes are turning into blocks of ice. Girls, say hi to Daddy.”

  A lump formed in his throat at the sound of three little voices piping up, together. “Hi, Daddy.”

  “Hi, angels.”

  “There,” Zoe came back on. “I’m really freezing here, so I’ll say bye myself.”

  “Okay,” Alex wished she’d stay for a while, talk to him about the little things in her day, how she felt, what she planned to do this evening. “Bye.”

  Alex rubbed his chest but no amount of massage could ease the hollow feeling next to his heart. He had a long evening ahead of him. Clint and Heath would be here before long and he didn’t feel like hanging his emotions out for any brotherly harassment.

  The scent of apple pie and cider greeted him as he came down the stairs. He stopped at the kitchen door to see his mother bending down, crutches at an odd angle, while she tried to pull a pie out of the oven.

  “Here, you crazy woman, let me help you with that.” He snatched the large strawberry-shaped oven mitts out of her hands.

  “Alexander Franklin King, I’ve been baking pies for more years than you’ve been alive to eat them. If you want to stay that way, you’ll get out of my kitchen.” She gave him a playful swat on the rear.

  “Yeah, I’ll sic Dr. Singh on you, if you don’t sit down.”

  “How did I ever rear such a heartless child?” She hobbled to the table and dropped into the red, vinyl 182

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas and chrome chair with an umph. “Be careful, don’t crush the crust. I want it to look perfect when I serve it tonight.”

  Alex peered over his shoulder as he stuck his hands into the mitts. “When has one of your pies been less than perfect?”

  “Since some ham-fisted man tried to take it out of the oven.” Jesse stood in the doorway. Her light blue sweater and well-worn jeans were casual, but she wore them with the same ease as a business suit. Why couldn’t he fall for someone like her instead of Sydney? Life would be a lot simpler. Jesse was laid back, no nonsense, and could beat him like an old rug when it came to sports. But it would be like kissing his sister. A major ick factor kicked in.

  Nope, he had to play the hand he’d been dealt and figure out how to bluff.

  “Here, let me have those.” Jesse pulled the mitts off and placed them over her small hands. “I’ll rescue the pie, Mom.”

  “Good, Clint and Heath should be here before long.” She peeked out the window at the fast-lowering sky. “I hope the snow holds off.”

  “The Weather Channel said the worst of it won’t hit here until the twenty-second or twenty-third. It’s just flurries right now.” Alex poured himself a cup of coffee. “You want one, Jesse, Mom?”

  “No, I’ll wait until there’s pie.” Jesse pulled the pie out and placed it with gentle care on a trivet that Mom kept on the counter. “Perfect, absolutely perfect.”

  A bright beam of light cut through dark outside the window. It had to be Heath’s Tahoe. Mom pulled the strawberry-decorated curtains aside. “Heath! My Heath made it safe and sound.”

  Mom started out of her chair without the crutches.

  Alex grabbed them up and handed them to her.

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  “Sit. Think Dr. Singh and extra physical therapy.”

  “If you’re going to get bossy on me, at least bring the hot cider. I’m sure Heath will need it.”

  Alex smiled and poured a steaming mug of cider from the kettle his mother kept at a constant simmer on the back of the stove. For all he knew, it might be the same cider recycled every year, like the family fruitcake. Mom hadn’t a clue that Heath detested the stuff. In the spirit of Christmas, Alex only filled Heath’s cup half full and brought it and the tray filled with Christmas cookies out to the living room.

  He stood in front of the fireplace, talking to Jesse about the new hockey team in the Kansas City area. His mind only registered half of what she said.

  The Zoe/Sydney tangle made it difficult to concentrate. He felt obligated to marry Sydney—he didn’t want anyone else within breathing distance of Zoe. The antique, crystal-domed clock on the mantle ticked away with a nanner nanner. He frowned when he looked at the time. Mom had been out on the porch for five minutes without a coat. Heath had better bring her in before she ended up with pneumonia on top of a broken ankle.

  He’d send Jesse out to bring them in if they were out there much longer. Heath let Jesse pummel and jump all over him like a bulldog might tolerate a kitten. Alex wouldn’t dare. He had too much respect for his skin.

  Heath might be shorter than either Clint or Alex but he had shoulders like a tree and could outrun both of them. The rock in the snowball incident proved that without a doubt. Prison or hell would be better than Heath’s rough justice. Alex smiled and then winced, as he clamped his butt cheeks tight at the memory of the world’s worst wedgie.

  He couldn’t wait to see the look on Heath’s face, 184

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas or the greenish glow when he had to take the first sip of the cider. Paybacks were a bitch.

  He could hear them talking on the porch, the way Mom let out a giggle as they came through the door. Heath’s eyes surveyed the room, taking in the familiar family decorations, the lights on the tree, and the stockings they’d made as kids.

  Jesse got up from her seat in the recliner and threw her arms around his neck.

  When she released him, Alex shook his hand, then pulled him into a brotherly hug, punctuated by a shoulder-pound. “How’s it going, bro?”

  “Great. Glad to have the drive over with.”

  “Yeah. It’s a bitch, and I live near the Plaza. Hey Mom, what do you say about cutting into your pie?”

  Alex shot a look in Heath’s direction, smirked at his waxen face.

  “We’ll wait until Clint gets here.” She turned to Heath. “You’re chilled to the bone. This ought to warm you up.” She picked the steaming mug off the tray and handed it to Heath. Alex almost did a happy dance when Heath stared down into the spicy depths. “Drink up, bro. Mom made it especially for you.” He held up his own cup. “I’m having plain old coffee.”

  “Are you going to the ceremony for Rudy?” Jesse asked.

  Heath and Rudy Morgan had been the best of friends growing up. Now he was dead, and Heath mourned his childhood friend, deep and hard. Alex could see the shadow of grief pass over Heath’s face.

  The thought of the upcoming memorial service had to be rough on him, especially trying to keep his emotions under control in front of everyone.

  “I plan to.” Heath wrapped his hand around the mug and eyed Alex’s coffee with a hint of envy.

  Alex felt tempted to take pity on his brother and switch drinks when their mother turned around—

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  but only half. Why break with tradition?

  Jesse flopped down in a chair. “Expect quite a turn-out. Around here, he was second only to Jesus.”

  Heath smiled but it held a touch of sadness. “So nothing’s changed, huh?” His features tightened with a grimace as he sipped. “Has anyone talked to Clint?”

  “I did a little w
hile ago,” Alex said. “He’s about an hour out.”

  “And the three Kings will be reunited once more.” Jesse grinned. She toasted with her mug.

  Mom settled in her chair by the Christmas tree.

  Heath moved behind her. He leaned down, his amber eyes serious for a change. “You gave us quite a scare. Clint and I ripped Alex a new one when he called after the surgery.”

  “That was my doing.” Mom waved his concern away. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

  “I’m allowed to worry about you, so get used to it.” Heath leaned over and kissed her on the cheek.

  “I’m just glad you’re all right.” He sat in the rose-colored chair and leaned back, pretending to sip at the cider, his sharp eyes focused on Alex. “I thought your fiancée would be here.”

  Alex leaned against mantle and crossed his arms over his chest. The heat burning his backside didn’t come close the hot embarrassment he felt.

  “She’s out with friends.”

  Alex tried to act as if nothing had happened, for anyone to know how Sydney felt about his family.

  He wondered if Mom heard Sydney complaining. If she had, she said nothing.

  “Yo, Alex, where’d you go?” Heath laughed but gave him a questioning frown.

  “Nowhere, just thinking.”

  “Wedding jitters?”

  “You could say that.” He took a sip of his cooling coffee. “It’s a big step. The last two times didn’t work 186

  A Perfect Bride for Christmas out so well.”

  “Well.” Heath lifted his cup in a salute. “Here’s hoping the third time’s the charm. Hey, speaking of three, when do I get to meet my nieces?” He paused, his eyes drifting to Alex. “And Sydney.”

  “Soon,” Alex said.

  His mother clapped her hands together and folded them over her heart. “Very soon, I hope. I can’t wait for you to meet them.” Her blue eyes glowed with pride, adding youth to her sixty years.

  The same pride rumbled around Alex’s chest.

  His mouth curved with a smile.

  “They’re adorable,” Mom continued. “They look just like your brother.” Mom’s eyes sparkled brighter than any of the lights on the tree. “Zoe is bringing them by in a couple of days. She’s doing the catering for the reception.”

  Heath raised a dark eyebrow and stared at Alex again. “Isn’t that a little weird—the ex-wife catering the new wife’s wedding reception?”

  Alex shrugged. “Ask Mom, she’s the one who hired Zoe.”

  “When I hired Classic Kitchen, I didn’t know at the time that Zoe owned the business.” Mom smiled up at Heath. “A friend recommended her.”

  “How many people are you planning on getting in this house?” Heath looked around the living room.

  Alex knew what Heath thought. It might be a big house but there wasn’t a lot of extra room for a big reception. “We’re getting a tent for the overflow.”

  “Mom, they’re saying it’s going to be thirty degrees on Christmas Eve.” Heath set the cup of cider on the mantel. “This storm that’s blowing in is supposed to have blizzard conditions.” Heath threw Alex a help talk some sense into the woman look.

  Alex shrugged and mouthed what are you gonna do behind Mom’s back.

  “We’ll have a heated tent.” Mom gave them an 187

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  eerie ‘Mom’ smile. “There’s going to be a wedding reception at Hollyfield, if I have the grab God by the beard and give it a good shake.”

  “We’re fried.” Heath laughed. “I’m not messing with God over this one, Mom.”

  “You mark my words.”

  His mother braced herself on the arms of her chair and started to rise. “I’ve still got a few things to do out in the kitchen.”

  “Use your crutches, Mom. If I see you hobbling around without them, I’m putting you in your chair in the living room.” Alex turned to Heath. “She’s supposed to stay off her feet, and every time I turn around, she’s hopping around like a jack rabbit.

  Keep a sharp eye out”

  Heath gave him wink and smiled. “Will do, Cupcake”

  “Jesse-e-e-e,” Alex drawled and turned toward Jesse with murder in his eye.

  Jesse held up her hands, “Whoa, I didn’t say a word.”

  “Cupcake?” Mom looked at him, not with surprise but a twinkle in her eye. She knew. “You want to explain that to your mother?”

  “Not really.” Alex finished his coffee in one gulp.

  “It was a long time ago and best forgot.” He glowered over at Heath. “I keep forgetting how snoopy you are.” Heath leaned back with a smug look on his face.

  “I’m good at what I do. Besides, it’s an older brother’s prerogative to learn all his little brother’s deep dark secrets.”

  Mom laughed. “Summer of eighty-five—every time I bought a family-size box of chocolate cupcakes, they went missing.”

  Alex felt the red creep up his neck. “Yeah, I mean, yes ma’am. Guilty as charged. But Jesse dared me.”

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  A Perfect Bride for Christmas After the giggles abated, his mother grabbed her crutches and stood. “I figured one of you boys had to be the culprit.” She turned to Heath with a smile.

  “That’s why I had you keep a look out. You’d tell me the truth if it was one of the other two, and if you said no one took them, then you were the cupcake bandit. I figured Alex would get sick after a while and that would end the cupcake larceny.”

  “Snitch,” Alex snarked.” To this day, he couldn’t stomach chocolate cupcakes.

  “Go on, you three, turn on the television.” Mom checked the time. A quarter to six. Alex didn’t miss the way she chewed her bottom lip with worry.

  The roads were bad, but Clint could drive in any condition. Hell, the man could drive across water if Jesus rode shotgun. “Don’t worry, he’ll be here.”

  All three of them stared at Mom. “I’ll be fine.”

  She pointed at the television with the end of her crutch. “Go on.”

  “Hey, Ethan said The Grinch is on,” Jesse quipped.

  “Arizona is playing K-State. I’d rather watch that than a Grinch.” Heath turned on the large, flat screen television their father bought last year to watch the Super Bowl. But he didn’t sit. He moved to the line of photos decorating the fireplace mantel.

  A deep furrow creased his brow and erased his earlier smile. Mom and Dad’s wedding picture, a couple of the boys as they were growing up, Alex’s college graduation photo, and one of Heath and Dad on a fishing trip. Of the three brothers, Heath’s relationship with their father was the closest.

  The whole Keeley Jacobs thing, on top of losing his best friend had to be messing with his head.

  Giving his brother room to his thoughts, Alex called dibs on the choicest seat and plopped down on the couch. Warmth filled his chest, expanded until he nearly burst with it. Love. He was home, family 189

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  around him, and now he had three little girls to call his own. And Zoe.

  No, not Zoe. Sydney.

  He fingered Zoe’s gold band hidden in his jeans pocket. Every time he thought of a way out of this hell he’d created, he found another knot.

  “Alex.”

  He stopped and looked over his shoulder as his mother hobbled across the room towards the kitchen.

  She wore the spooky ‘Mom’ smile again.

  “Things happen in their own time.”

  Her words were scary and reassuring at the same time.

  “Sure thing, Mom.”

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  A Perfect Bride for Christmas Chapter Nineteen

  Zoe dished up beef vegetable soup for the girls and set it out to cool. She went to the bottom of the stairs and called up, “Ladies, put your toys away, we’re eating in five minutes.”

  “But Mommy,” a chorus came from the playroom upstairs.

  “Hands on the clock are ticking.”

  A scramble of feet accompanied by the
sound of toys being snatched off the floor and put away made Zoe smile. She felt blessed. They were her reward for all the years of humiliation and heartache. They were her treasures. Even with the talcum powder disaster.

  Sydney Stanford could go to hell.

  No visitation with Sydney present. It killed her to do it, but she had to watch out for her children’s best interest. The incident at Hollyfield strengthened her resolution.

  Three miniatures of Alex bounded into the room.

  “We washed our hands.”

  “Without me telling you to?”

  They nodded in unison.

  Tonight, they were dressed in pink, footie pajamas with butterflies embroidered on the front.

  To an outsider, they were identical, but Zoe could tell each one apart. Macy, the adventurer, the instigator, sported a tiny scar over her right eye.

  Michaela was more robust than the other two, her muscle tone tighter from all the activity. She wore Zoe ragged. And Mia, her thinker, her princess, said 191

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  it all in her body language. Mia walked, danced, and moved with pure grace.

  “Well, that deserves something special.”

  “An extra cookie?” Hope burned in Macy’s eyes.

  “No.” Zoe shook her head. “You had enough cookies today at Gramma’s. Besides, we don’t reward with food, remember?”

  “Sometimes you do.” Macy had a mind like a steel trap when it came to desserts.

  “Okay, sometimes, but not tonight.” She placed the bowls of soup on the table, and the girls automatically got out spoons and napkins. “What do you say we watch a movie tonight? I’ll let you stay up an hour later, but you have to promise me you’ll get ready for school.”

  “I want to watch Dora the Explorer.” Macy jumped into her chair with a bounce of excitement. “I love Dora the Explorer.”

  Mia placed her napkin in the neck of her pajamas. “No, how about the one with the little girl and Santa?”

  “Snow Queen?” Michaela stuck her finger in the soup to test its warmth and licked her finger clean.