Mistletoe Kisses

by Marnie Blue

  Or at least I tried to stop worrying, the traitorous thought in the back of his head reminded him. Shut up, he told himself. Lilly Maddox was Hannah’s friend, but as far as he was concerned, she was nothing to him now. Nothing but a memory, and a confusing one at that. “You can’t ride with me,” he muttered.

  Lilly’s green eyes sparked, and his stomach flip-flopped. When they were younger, he loved riling her up, just to watch. Oh, that fiery temper.

  Plus, when she began to chatter, she reminded him of an angry squirrel flicking its tail.

  She lifted her manicured finger and waved it in his face.

  Justin fought a smile.

  “What’s your problem, Justin? My producer cleared it with your lieutenant, and nothing—nothing, not even you—is going to stop me from riding in this car all week.”

  Chatter, chatter. He wanted to laugh, but he didn’t. It would only rile her more, and that wasn’t a game he should play anymore. “We’ll see about that.”

  Beside them, O’Rourke cleared his throat. “Uh, guys?”

  “Look, Justin. I need this assignment, and I will have it!” She stamped a sparkly stiletto.

  Flick, flick. Just like a squirrel’s tail. He bit his lower lip to keep it from curving out of control. He’d missed Lilly. He’d never forgive her for the way she seemingly abandoned his family when they needed her the most, but that didn’t mean he didn’t miss her fire and her…Lilly-ness.

  Not that he’d realized that when he was seventeen. He’d just known that he could get her mad, like how O’Rourke delighted in getting him riled—and he enjoyed doing the same thing to his closest friend. It was what guys did when they liked someone and felt comfortable with them. But I don’t. Not anymore. Not with Lilly.

  So what was he doing, and why did he care? He tightened his jaw and put on his cop face. It fell into place like a mask. “Nonnegotiable.”

  “Guys, the parade’s starting,” O’Rourke said.

  Lilly flipped her hair over her shoulder in a shining red-gold wave.

  A sweet waft of peppermint shampoo or perfume or something floated his way.

  “You’re not my boss.”

  She did not say that. Justin’s resolve strengthened. Now it was beyond personal. “On this ride, I am. I’m the boss. This is my car—”

  “Guys!”

  “It’s a sleigh.”

  “It’s a car. And I’m the driver.” He stared into her snapping eyes.

  “It’s my piece, and you’re my subject.” She didn’t look away.

  Flick, flick, went her imagined tail.

  The fire truck behind them blasted its air horn; in front of them, Justin’s fellow officers started saying, “Let’s go!”

  “Sorry! I’m sorry. I had to park the van.” A cameraman jostled up behind Kevin, the camera already on his shoulder. “I hope you guys aren’t waiting for me. Hey, dude. You must be Cop Kringle. I’m Cisco.” He held out his hand.

  Justin frowned. There was no time to resolve this issue. But he’d talk to Hanley as soon as the parade was over.

  If he couldn’t scare Lilly out of the car, at least he could ignore her—and that’s what he’d do. He dropped his stare and turned to meet Cisco.

  …

  Lilly slid into the car and settled into the passenger seat, trying hard not to let Justin know how much he’d shaken her. Officer O’Rourke ducked his head in. “Don’t let him rattle you. He’s just grouchy. He hates Christmas. That’s why I got him hooked up with this assignment. I just didn’t know he’d blast into you like that—if he gets too annoying, let me know. I’ll set him straight.” A frown almost but not quite marred his movie-star-perfect face.

  “Don’t worry about me. I’m not rattled,” she said. “I can handle Justin Weaver.” She buckled herself in.

  Officer O’Rourke’s blue eyes twinkled merrily. “Good. Let him have it. He deserves it—whatever it is.” He winked.

  Justin climbed into the driver’s seat and slammed the door so hard the car rocked. “Quit flirting, shut the door, and get out of the way, O’Rourke. We’re moving.”

  “Ha.” His partner rolled his eyes and patted Lilly on the shoulder. “Have fun with Scrooge, little elf.” Officer O’Rourke straightened and closed the door.

  Justin said something rude under his breath.

  Lilly ignored him and turned to look at Cisco; he’d climbed into the back seat while Justin and his partner ran through their repartee. She had to admit, the two police officers were a force all their own. If she hadn’t already known Justin, she would have been tongue-tied by the attractive hero duo. Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. But it was something she’d play up for viewers. Her intent was to put all of the police department in the best light possible, and with two good-looking guys like O’Rourke and Justin, it would be much easier. More women than men watched fluff pieces like this one, and what red-blooded female—and some males, too—wouldn’t enjoy two handsome men in uniform?

  But she wanted this piece to be more than fluff. “So—we know how this is going to go, right? We need to interview Cop Kringle at some point tonight. Should we do it from the car or outside somewhere?”

  “Outside would probably be better,” Cisco offered. “It’s hard to shoot through the cage.”

  “True.” Lilly looked over at Justin. “Where’s your hat? And your beard?”

  “Here,” Cisco said, and thrust them through the small slot between the opened cage panels.

  Justin curled his lip, wrinkled his nose, and exhaled a clearly exasperated sigh of disgust. But he took them and put them on. The white wig attached to the hat tumbled over his shoulders, and the beard covered most of his face so that only his nose and eyes were visible. Lilly frowned. That didn’t look safe. “Can you see through that? We’re not going to crash, are we?”

  His only response was a sneeze. Acrylic floss beard fluttered over his mouth.

  The radio squawked with some unintelligible chatter. Justin lifted the mike and spoke into it. “Ten-four on the music.”

  He sighed again, leaned forward, and shoved a waiting CD into the slot in the dashboard, fiddling with a few knobs on the console. Lilly heard the intro followed by the frantic screech of a washed-up pop star’s “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” suddenly blaring through the car’s PA system.

  “Ho”—mumble—“ho, let’s go,” Justin muttered, and put the car into gear. Red, green and white LED lights attached to the frame begin to blink in sync to the music. He muttered something to himself.

  They slowly followed behind the cops walking in front of the car, and she watched out the window as the parade moved out from behind the high school to the front, and then out of the lot, a long, organized snake of Christmas cheer. There were marching bands, gymnasts, area high school cheerleaders, cars, motorcycles, mopeds covered with LED lights, and lots of floats, representing different businesses and organizations, and even the mayor.

  The mayor’s float had a big gingerbread house on it, with a Re-elect Liu sign on the fake-snow-covered fake lawn. Mrs. Claus waved from a golden throne on the Teacher’s Union float and threw lollipops or something the kids scrambled to catch into the crowd. Cupcakes danced awkwardly on the Sandi’s Sweet Shoppe float, followed by the Punkin Patch Day Care flatbed, where tiny reindeer sat on a cottony floor with companion adults who also wore antlers. And there were so many more.

  Lilly smiled. “I’m glad I don’t have to judge the Christmas float competition. I’m not sure I could pick one,” she said, and turned to Cisco. “Let’s start filming. Maybe we can get some audio even if the footage in here isn’t great. Maybe we can use it for voice-over.”

  “Okay. Go.” He started the camera.

  She looked at Justin. “So this is your first Christmas as Cop Kringle. What are your goals?”

  He turned his head to peer at her through hair and beard. “To get this over with.”

  Lilly shook her head. “Nice try. You’re picking up and distributing toys for kids
. That’s got to feel good, knowing you’re bringing some Christmas cheer to a needy child?”

  He looked back out the windshield. “Material stuff isn’t Christmas cheer. I’m sure there are a lot of kids who need more than some donated toys.”

  Oh boy. She really had her job cut out for her. The question was—should she continue to try to pry answers out of a reluctant subject, or clear the air with Justin first?

  Her second option was probably the lesser of two miserable tasks. She peered at Cisco through the cage. “Do you think you could get some footage without us for a while?”

  “Sure thing.” Her cameraman reached for the door handle that wasn’t there. “If you’ll let me out.”

  “Oh! You don’t have handles back there. Santa’s sleigh is a jail on wheels.” She snorted a laugh, then said, “Justin, could you please stop for a moment so I can let Cisco out?”

  Justin shook his head.

  Lilly bit her lip. When she was a kid, she wouldn’t have listened to him. So—status quo. “All right then. I’ll just let him out.” She cracked the door open.

  Justin slammed on the brakes. “Lilly! I said—”

  “I know what you said.” She jumped out and opened Cisco’s door.

  Her cameraman climbed out, and as he readied his camera on his shoulder, he said, “Are you sure baiting him like that was a good idea? He could pitch us out, and then we’d be screwed.”

  “All I know is, I’m not backing down. This is my piece and it’s my job. I’m not going to win it from the back of a squad car.”

  Cisco shook his head. “Whatever you say, chica. I don’t know what Santa’s beef with you is, but you’d better talk to the dude before the night is over. Otherwise, this is not going to go down good.”

  Lilly nodded with a sinking heart. Her cameraman was right. “I know. Get going.”

  He moved off. She took a deep breath of cold air, waved at the parade-goers with a cheery, elf-y smile, then climbed back into the car and closed the door. It thunked heavy and solid. Here we go. She turned to peer at Justin, but behind the beard she couldn’t see a thing; she could only imagine his face.

  Except…she imagined the young Justin that she’d known so well, not this handsome, formidable stranger. Not so scary or stony. How would she have dealt with him then?

  She would have teased him. “You’re a real poop head.” His beard moved—she figured he was clenching his teeth or something; his hands were tightening on the steering wheel. She could see his knuckles whitening. “Listen, I get that you’re a control freak now. I mean, you always were bossy but—”

  He pulled the beard from his face; it dangled under his chin. “I’m trying—God help me—to keep you safe. Believe it or not.” His eyes appeared darker than ever under the white brim of the hat.

  Lilly reminded herself to pay attention to his words, not his eyes. “Safe from what? This is a parade!”

  “No. I mean—the whole week. I’d rather we don’t do this.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I thought we resolved this already. Yes, we’re doing it. And you can bet your beard on it.”

  Justin snorted. “You can have it.”

  Cisco was right; she needed to talk to him about more than just this riding with him. Something was really wrong between them. Better now than never, she supposed. Here, they were guaranteed privacy to talk, even as they had to wave to children. She took a deep breath. “Okay, Claus, spill. What’s your problem?”

  “I’m not the one with the problem. And don’t call me ‘Claus.’” Justin stared through the windshield.

  “I will call you ‘Claus.’ And what do you mean, you’re not the one with the problem? You’re the one freaking out here.”

  “I’m not freaking out. I’m doing my job.”

  “Well, so am I. But you don’t appear to want me to. So…what’s going on?”

  “You.” He narrowed his eyes. “I could deal with anyone else riding with me, any elf, journalist, whatever. But you? No.”

  Just as she’d suspected. “Why?”

  “Because,” he said, “I don’t trust you.”

  Lilly frowned. “You don’t trust me?”

  “That’s what I said. I don’t think I can trust you.”

  “But why? What have I ever done to you?” She couldn’t fathom it.

  He growled a laugh. “Doesn’t matter. What’s done is done, and bottom line—I don’t trust you.”

  “Justin, please. What’s going on?”

  He peered at her through the beard and hair. “Seriously. I’m surprised Hannah even talks to you anymore.”

  “What?” Lilly frowned. “Of course she does. We’re friends!”

  “She forgives too easily.” He paused, then looked at her with narrowed eyes. “I think you’re someone who bails as soon as the going gets tough.”

  “Bails?” It didn’t even make sense. “Bails on what? What’s tough? What was tough?”

  “As if you don’t know.” He shifted in his seat and slowed the car as the floats ahead turned the corner onto Main Street. The crowds grew thick on the sidewalk. Children jumped up and down on the curbs or waved from the adult shoulders on which they were perched.

  Lilly lifted her hand and followed suit, waving her hand à la royal family. Any other time, she would have giggled about it, but right now… “I don’t know.”

  Justin huffed; acrylic floss fluttered in front of his face. “When my…when Dad died, you disappeared. Right after the funeral. When I—when Hannah—needed you the most. You were gone.”

  “My parents sent me to boarding school! How was that my fault?” She almost stopped waving, but then a curly-haired child on the sidewalk pointed at the car, reminding her that she had an elf duty to perform—and that took priority over anything going on inside the car. “I didn’t want to go. I told them I wanted to stay. I begged them. But I was sixteen, and there was nothing I could do.” Lilly had locked herself in her room and threatened to stay there forever. But hunger—and a hired handyman with a screwdriver—had eventually made her come out.

  She turned to Justin. “They told me I was too involved with your family, that what happened to your father was distracting me from what was important.”

  “What was important? School was more important to you than my family? Your best friend? She called you her sister. I think you could have fought harder to stay, is all.”

  “School was more important to my parents, but not to me. Never to me.” She frowned. “Didn’t you ever talk to Hannah about this? She’s talking to me. She’s not holding my parents’ actions over my head. So why are you?”

  …

  Good question. Justin scratched at his chin through the beard. Maybe he was being too hard on Lilly. They had been just kids. And it did seem silly now that he said it out loud. He’d grown up that night—he’d actually felt himself go from boy to man in an instant. Like putting on a new set of clothes, or a new skin. One moment, he’d been your average seventeen-year-old, and then, he was the man of the family, making decisions no kid should have to even think about. His mom had been devastated, for more reasons than he would discuss with Lilly. His little sister had fallen apart. Both of them had needed him strong, holding them up, keeping them going through the days leading up to his father’s funeral and beyond.

  He sighed. “I don’t know. I guess because you were there, helping me help them. And then you were gone, and you didn’t even say goodbye.”

  “I couldn’t! They packed up my stuff, put me on a train, and the next thing I knew I was at Miss Tabor-Frenchy’s Academy for Girls, the most exclusive prep school my parents could find.” Lilly made a distinctly unladylike sound. “It was like prison with plaid skirts and field hockey.”

  “You could have called. Or written. Or something.” Justin was surprised how whiny he sounded. But it had hurt to have Lilly abandon him that way. She’d been like family, most certainly a friend. Someone he loved. Had loved. Whatever.

  “They didn’t allow let
ters or calls home for new students. I needed to adjust, they said. Any attempts to communicate with the outside world were quashed.” She shook her head. “Believe me, I tried. In fact, I tried to escape. But that didn’t work out as planned, and after that I was on lockdown.” Her eyes filled with tears, and her posture was imploring. Her body language told him she was telling the truth. But still…

  A thought occurred to him. “But what about later? You said new students couldn’t contact anyone. What about your junior or senior year? Plus, you can’t tell me you stayed there all year long. So—”

  Lilly reached out and touched his arm; the warmth of her hand burned through the polyester and velveteen like a brand. “I got in touch with Hannah. She was angry and hurt, just like you. But she got over it. Unlike you.” She snorted again. “By the time I got home that summer, we reconnected. And you—you were at basic training. When you came home before you went to Afghanistan, I was in Germany. I could have written to you, but…why? I was just Hannah’s friend. I didn’t even think you cared, to be honest. I mean, we were friendly, but it’s not like you and I were friends.”

  When she put it that way, he understood. They’d been friendly, but they’d never hung out together alone or even felt compelled to; the fact of the matter was, she’d been there in his house and he’d been there, too. Friendship by exposure, not by choice. He nodded. But then, “Germany? What were you doing in Germany?”

  “When my parents offered to send me to a three-month-long riding camp in Germany that summer, of course I said I’d do that. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t feel horrible about not seeing you.”

  “Riding camp?” Justin lifted an eyebrow. “Germany?”

  Lilly shrugged. “Dressage. You know, horses.” She mimicked holding reins and rocked on the seat. “It’s an Olympic event.” She rolled her eyes and waved her hand at him dismissively. “It doesn’t matter. What you need to know is that my parents solve a problem by throwing money at it. I was a problem. They paid me off, I’ll admit it. As soon as the summer was over, I was back at the plaid prison. But that doesn’t mean I forgot about Hannah—or you. Or your mom. When the opportunity came up to work here, I jumped at it. I called Hannah as soon as my plane landed. She picked me up at the airport. We cried, we hugged, we picked up like nothing had gone on between us, and now we’re friends again like no time had passed. Can’t we be friends again, too?” Lilly’s pretty green eyes met his.