Make-Believe Mistletoe

by Gina Wilkins

  “Of course you should stay,” she said firmly. “After all, the closest motel is fifteen miles away. And it's New Year's Eve. We'll have a party.”

  Banner frowned. “Does this party involve decorations? Am I going to have to chop down another tree?”

  She laughed and leaned over to kiss his cheek, causing him to blush again. She simply loved seeing this ultra-controlled, habitually gruff man rattled enough to flush. He wasn't nearly as stern and detached as he pretended to be, but she knew it was a facade born of self-protection.

  She wanted Banner to understand he could be free to be himself with her, without fear of judgment or criticism. Perhaps that simple level of acceptance had been all too lacking in his life.

  Tim's life, too, apparently, she thought, glancing at the young man who was studying her so curiously.

  “No tree this time,” she promised Banner. “But we must have champagne. Do you have any?”

  His mouth twisted. “That's not exactly something I keep on hand.”

  Not at all surprised, she nodded and rose. “Then I'm off to do some shopping for party supplies. Is there anything else you need me to pick up while I'm out?”

  Banner pushed himself to his feet. “I'll do the shopping. Just make a list of what you need, and I'll-”

  “No, I'll go. You stay here with Tim.” Which was, she thought, exactly what he was trying to avoid. “Do you have black-eyed peas to eat tomorrow for good luck in the new year? If not, I'll have to buy some while I'm out-though it might be hard to find them this late. I waited until New Year's Eve last year, and the shelves were almost empty of black-eyed peas.”

  “I have them…and a ham hock to season them with,” Banner replied, making it clear he followed at least one local holiday tradition. “But, really, I don't mind making the grocery run.”

  She patted his cheek in a breezy manner that made his eyes narrow. “Talk to your brother, Banner,” she murmured in his ear. “He needs your support.”

  Because he was a man who clearly knew when to surrender, he nodded and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “Be careful.”

  “I will.” Giving Tim an encouraging smile, she headed off to find her purse and shoes.

  She had champagne to buy.

  Banner and Tim were left staring at each other in Lucy's wake, both of them at a loss for words. Knowing Lucy would tell him that it was his place to get the conversation rolling, Banner cleared his throat. “So, uh…”

  Maybe he should have had something in mind to say before he started speaking, he thought with a grimace, falling silent again.

  Tim took up the effort. “Lucy seems really great. How did you meet her?”

  “She was stranded here during the ice storm last week, along with several other travelers.”

  “Really?” Tim looked intrigued. “She's been here ever since?”

  “No. She left to spend Christmas with her family in Springfield, then came back yesterday. She said she, uh, wanted to get to know me better,” he added, still occasionally amazed that Lucy had actually returned.

  “And then I show up.” Looking apologetic, Tim shook his head. “Sorry, dude, it's obvious I'm in the way here. I'll clear out before she gets back.”

  “No. She'd have my head if you're gone when she returns. She's all set for a New Year's Eve party-and trust me, when Lucy sets her mind on something, you might as well just nod and ask what she wants you to do.”

  Tim's smile was a bit quizzical. “I didn't think you would let anyone boss you around, not even someone as pretty as Lucy.”

  “Lucy doesn't boss anyone around. She just sort of guides people into cooperating with her.”

  “And you're okay with that?”

  Banner shrugged. As much as he admired and desired her, he wasn't blind to Lucy's flaws, just as he was quite sure she was aware of his. Sure, she had a tendency to take charge of things, but he figured he could hold his own with her if it concerned something that particularly mattered to him. He just didn't expect her to hang around long enough for it to become an issue.

  Deciding a change of subject was in order, he tried to remember the name of Tim's girlfriend, who he had met at a very stilted and uncomfortable Thanksgiving dinner with his father's family. “So how's…Jessica?”

  “Jennifer. She's history.”

  Studying Tim's morose expression, Banner asked, “Did you dump the girlfriend along with law school?”

  “Actually, she dumped me. She really wanted to marry a lawyer.”

  Banner winced. “Uh, sorry.”

  “Don't be. It stung a bit, but I couldn't have spent the rest of my life pretending to be something I'm not just to try to keep her happy. And to be honest, it didn't hurt as badly as it probably should have. So maybe she and I weren't right for each other, after all.”

  Because Banner could identify all too well with those sentiments, he studied his half brother from a new perspective. Truth be told, he had never paid a lot of attention to Tim.

  Banner had been nearly eight when the boy was born, and he had already become aware of the estrangement from his father's family. He still remembered hearing his father bragging about his “boy” and knowing that Richard hadn't been referring to him. Just as he remembered the way his perpetually nervous stepmother had hovered nearby every time Banner had attempted any interaction with baby Tim, as if she feared he would do something to harm the younger boy. As Banner had gotten older, choosing to spend even less time with his father, the rift had grown wider, until he'd hardly known his paternal half siblings.

  Banner had thought of Tim as brilliant, social, ambitious, driven-all the adjectives their father valued so highly, which Banner could simply never apply to himself. It had never occurred to Banner that Tim could have more in common with him than with their old man.

  Which, he reminded himself, was not necessarily a good thing. He would hate to see young Tim end up living alone, isolated from his family, feeling as if he had failed at every relationship he had attempted. And Tim didn't even seem to have a passion he wanted to pursue, the way Banner had always enjoyed his woodworking.

  The extent of his concern about Tim rather surprised him. He wouldn't have expected to care what the kid chose to do with his life.

  Because he didn't know how to express his misgivings, he said only, “You can crash here as long as you need a place to stay. But your parents are going to hate it. They'll probably figure out a way to blame me for corrupting you. Accuse me of being a bad influence or something, not that I had anything to do with your choices.”

  “Maybe more than you think,” Tim murmured.

  Banner was almost relieved when his dog interrupted the conversation before he had to pursue that particular comment. With a big, noisy yawn, the animal rose from his rug, stretched dramatically, then wandered over to Banner. The dog butted the hand that had been resting on Banner's knee, an unsubtle hint that he wanted a head rub.

  “No offense,” Tim said, “but that is the ugliest dog I've ever seen.”

  “No offense taken. I'm not blind.”

  “What breed is he?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Tilting his head a bit, Tim eyed the dog curiously. “I'm figuring there are at least ten breeds involved, maybe a little goat and cow thrown in.”

  That made Banner chuckle. “Anything's possible, I guess.”

  Tim patted his leg, calling the dog to his side. Reaching out to rub the dog's long, shaggy ears, he asked, “What's his name?”

  “Hulk.”

  Grinning down at the goofy, good-natured animal, Tim said, “I like him.”

  “So do I.”

  Their gazes met over the dog's head. Banner looked away first, reaching hastily for the remote control. “We're missing the bowl games. What teams do you like?”

  “I'll watch any game that involves a ball and cheerleaders,” Tim replied.

  Thumbing on the power button and raising the volume loud enough to preclude any more meaningf
ul dialogue, Banner rose. “We need snacks. I've got cheese puffs, pretzels, popcorn, beer and sodas.”

  Tim's attention was already fixed on the screen. “All of the above sounds good.”

  Nodding, Banner headed off in search of junk food, relieved that the only conversation required from him for the rest of the afternoon would consist of phrases like “Nice catch” or “Bad call.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Lucy was hit with an immediate sense of familiarity when she walked into Banner's living room a bit later that afternoon. Having grown up in a household with her uncle and two male cousins, she was well acquainted with the sounds of football on the TV and grunts of satisfaction or disgust from the guys sprawled on the furniture. The smells of beer, popcorn and cheese puffs made her smile with nostalgia.

  “Who's winning?” she asked, crossing the room and plopping down on the couch beside Banner.

  “It's tied at fourteen.” Banner draped an arm around her, almost absentmindedly, and she snuggled contentedly into his side. “Did you find any champagne?”

  “Sparkling grape juice. You might have told me this is a dry county.”

  He chuckled. “You were so insistent on going yourself, I figured you knew what you were doing.”

  Quite cheerfully she punched him in the side. “Thanks a lot.”

  With a faint “oomph,” he shifted his position, gave her a look, then turned his attention back to the TV in time to watch a long spiraling pass fall right into the hands of a defensive player. “Son of a-”

  “What was he thinking?” Tim complained loudly. “Didn't he see that sea of opposing color surrounding his receiver?”

  “I think he saw those two human tanks coming right at his head,” Lucy answered, reaching for a handful of popcorn. “I'd have gotten rid of that ball, myself.”

  Banner and Tim got into a heated discussion on whether an intentional grounding penalty would have been better or worse than a sack in that play. Delighted that the brothers were communicating in such a basic, male-bonding sort of way, Lucy settled in to watch the rest of the game.

  One game had ended and they were engrossed in another when Banner's telephone rang. He looked immediately at Tim, who was looking back at him with a rueful expression. It seemed that both of them had the same premonition about who was calling.

  “Ten-to-one that's Dad,” Tim muttered.

  “Sucker bet,” Banner replied, standing to reach for the phone. Maybe they would both be wrong and it would be for Lucy, he thought hopefully.

  No such luck.

  “Hello, Richard.” His father spoke with his usual brusque lack of warmth.

  “Sir.” Having decided years earlier that Dad was too familiar a term to describe his relationship with his father,

  Banner had settled for the more formal appellation. Richard, Sr., had never protested.

  “I don't suppose you've heard from your brother today.” “He's been here all day.” Banner didn't think Tim had wanted his whereabouts kept secret or he would have said so.

  After a momentary pause, Richard sighed. “I shouldn't be surprised.”

  “Do you want to talk to him?” Banner asked a bit hopefully.

  “No. I've said all I know to say to him. But maybe you'll have more luck. You are trying to talk him into going back to school, aren't you?”

  “No.”

  His father's voice chilled several degrees. “Why the hell not?”

  Aware that both Tim and Lucy were listening, though they seemed to be watching the game, Banner replied, “Tim's old enough to make his own decisions.”

  “I should have expected you to take that attitude.”

  “What attitude is that, sir?” Banner inquired coolly.

  “You're frittering your own life away, and now you seem to be encouraging your brother to do the same. I don't know what made me think you would show any responsibility or loyalty to this family now, when you never have before.”

  “Yeah, well, that's just the kind of guy I am.” Even Banner heard the sharp edge to the drawl he had intended to sound merely laconic.

  “Your mother did a hell of a job raising you. My wife always warned me about letting Tim spend too much time with you, but I never thought there was a danger that you would have that much influence over him.”

  “Are there any other criticisms you want to make, or are you about finished?”

  “That will do for now. I can only hope spending a few days with you will bring your brother to his senses about the kind of life he could end up leading if he doesn't get back to school.”

  “I'm sure Tim will be just fine whatever he decides to do. As you've always made a point of telling everyone, he's a smart guy. Smart enough not to let anyone run his life for him-including you.”

  “All I can say is that both of my sons have been bitter disappointments to me,” Richard said stiffly.

  Banner kept his own tone rigidly polite. “I'm sorry you feel that way, sir. Maybe you should take some time to ask yourself if maybe you expected too much from us. And whether we might be a bit disappointed with you,” he couldn't resist adding before he abruptly disconnected the call.

  Tim was on his feet by the time Banner replaced the handset in its cradle. His hands in his pockets, his expression young and vulnerable, he murmured, “You said 'we.”'

  Confused, Banner frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “It's the first time you've acted like we're on the same side,” Tim clarified, his cheeks a bit red. “Like we're really brothers.”

  “Well, we aren't sisters,” Banner returned, then almost winced at the lameness of the awkward retort. Uncomfortable with the emotion in the kid's eyes, he cleared his throat and turned sharply on one heel. “I'm going to start dinner. I'm getting hungry.”

  It was a lie, of course. He wasn't sure he could eat anything at the moment. But it gave him an excuse to get away from all this emotion and drama.

  Hell, this was the reason he had done everything he could to avoid getting entangled with his half siblings, he told himself as he stalked into the other room.

  Urging Tim to stay behind with the dog, Lucy followed Banner into the kitchen, having given him a few minutes to collect himself after his father's call. She found him with his head stuck in the pantry, his posture stiff enough to be termed ramrod. It took nerve to deal with him in this mood, but Lucy had never lacked for courage.

  Some might have added that there were times when she lacked good sense to accompany her recklessness. She hoped this wasn't one of those times.

  “How are you doing?” she asked, stopping a few feet behind him.

  “Great. How does spaghetti sound for dinner? The sauce would be from a jar, but I can spice it up a little with a few extra ingredients.”

  He was so determined not to show his emotions, and from what she had heard of his conversation with his father, Lucy could certainly understand why he had developed that habit. But it couldn't be healthy to keep so much bottled inside.

  “Spaghetti sounds fine. Do you want to talk about your father's call?”

  “Not particularly.” Carrying an assortment of bottles and cans to the counter, he set them down and reached for a pan.

  “He didn't really blame you for Tim quitting law school, did he?”

  “Pretty much. But I really don't want to talk about it right now.”

  She was nothing if not persistent. “That was terribly unfair of him. But Tim appreciates you sticking up for him. You know that he pretty well hero-worships you, don't you? And that he probably has all his life?”

  As she had expected, Banner reacted to her comments with a frown and a growl. “That's bull. He just came here because he didn't have anywhere else to go where no one would try to tell him what he should do.”

  Lucy had a different opinion about that. She suspected Tim had thought that rebelling against their father's manipulations would finally give him something in common with his reclusive older brother. She didn't think Tim had gone so far
as to quit law school for that reason-she believed him when he said he'd been pressured into a career he had never wanted to pursue-but he had known where to come for support in that decision.

  “He's so young,” she murmured, looking toward the doorway.

  “Not that much younger than you are.”

  “Almost six years. And somehow I get the feeling that he's young for his years. Do you think he'll be okay?”

  “He'll be fine. It'll do him good to be out on his own for a while.”

  “At least he'll have you to guide him a bit.”

  Banner frowned at her. “He doesn't want or need me to guide him. He's a grown man, got a college degree. He can fend for himself.”

  Wandering to the refrigerator, she pulled out raw vegetables for a salad. “You had your great-uncle to turn to,” she reminded him. “Tim has you.”

  The comparison seemed to startle him. He looked thoughtful as he continued cooking. Knowing he needed time to digest the events of the day, Lucy forced herself to work quietly beside him, leaving the questions and observations for later.

  When the meal was on the table a short time later, Lucy went into the living room to call Tim away from the television. “Dinner's ready.”

  “Great,” he said, almost bounding from his chair. “I'm starved.”

  Lifting an eyebrow, Lucy looked at the empty snack bowls and soda cans scattered around the room. It hadn't been too many hours since they'd lunched on chili dogs and chips, which both Banner and Tim had agreed made for perfect football food. Tim might have declared himself a man, but he still had the appetite of a teenager, she thought with a shake of her head.

  Lucy and Tim kept up a lively conversation during the meal, chatting about everything from sports to movies to music to politics. Banner didn't contribute much, but Lucy knew he heard every word they said.

  After dinner, Lucy pulled out the bags of supplies she had purchased for their impromptu New Year's Eve party. Tim watched with curiosity, and Banner with signs of trepidation, as she unearthed an assortment of games, sparkling grape juice, plastic wineglasses, noisemakers and party crackers.