Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas

by Kathryn Le Veque

  “Yeah. I’m the coach of the big guys,” Cleetus said with a laugh.

  “Well, from what I saw at the games, you were a great coach.”

  Her assessment of him was rewarded by that little blush in his cheeks.

  The music on the jukebox switched to A Holly Jolly Christmas. Sylvie couldn’t help bouncing around on her side of the booth to the rhythm of the music. “I love this song”

  “I kinda figured that,” he said with another grin.

  Their meals arrived. The aroma of the sage, onions and roasted turkey so tantalizing, that they tucked into their food with equal gusto. Sylvie hadn’t realized how hungry she was until she took that first bite of the gravy-covered dressing. One thing about working all day on her feet at the salon—she definitely worked up an appetite.

  They’d finished their food and ordered pumpkin pie for dessert, when her phone rang. She didn’t have to answer it to know who it was. She’d long ago given that particular number the theme song from How the Grinch Stole Christmas as a ringtone.

  “You going to get that?” Cleetus asked, with a very curious look.

  She pulled it out, glanced at the name to be sure it was her parents’ number, then rejected the call. “No. It’s no one I want to talk to.”

  CLOSE TO SANTA’S HEART

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cleetus watched the sadness pass over Sylvie’s face as she looked at her phone. He wished he knew who was calling that would make her look like that, but if she didn’t want to tell him, he’d have to respect her and not push for a better answer.

  All his life he’d never really had a girlfriend. Certainly not in high school, when he’d been too shy and self-conscious of his size to risk asking any girls out. Most of the women his age here in town had grown up with him, and thought of him as a brother.

  Since the day he walked into The Dye Right Salon on his nightly rounds and saw the little redhead, he’d been madly in love with Sylvie. It had taken him a month to finally ask her to join him for pie here at the Peaches ‘N Cream. Well, technically, if he thought about it real close, he was pretty sure she’d been the one to ask him out. Either way, they’d been steadily with each other part of every day since.

  Still, there were big parts of her life before she came to Westen that she avoided talking about. He knew she had a mother and father and two brothers, but that was all she’d told him.

  A shadow passed over the table and he looked up to see Kyle standing there.

  “Hey, Coach Junkins,” he said.

  The high school’s football head coach was Cleetus’ boss, Sheriff Gage Justice. When he’d asked Cleetus to come be the line coach for the team, first thing he’d done was impress upon the players they were to address him as Coach Junkins, not his first name. He’d asked Gage later why he’d done that.

  “It’s a sign of respect for you, Cleetus. They’ll listen to you when you’re teaching them, or correcting something they’re doing wrong. I know you like being everyone’s friend, but with teens, it’s more important to have their respect.”

  He never told Gage, but he did like having the boys showing him that respect. Even though the season had ended, they all still called him coach whenever they saw him.

  “Hey, Kyle. Looks like you and Miss Rachel have been busy tonight.” He shook the young man’s offered hand, nodding toward the window where the pair had just hung a string of Christmas bulbs around the perimeter.

  “Yeah, Rachel says her mother loves Christmas and goes all out.”

  “Sure does. Starting Monday, there will be eggnog milkshakes, mincemeat pie, and peppermint-chocolate ice cream and cookies. Only time of year she serves them. She makes Christmas stockings for all her regular trucker customers filled with goodies for them, and makes sure they all get one when they stop in during the season.”

  “Rachel mentioned something about us having to do stocking stuffing tomorrow. I thought it had to do with something old Pete was cooking.” He laughed, shaking his head. Cleetus and Sylvie joined him. “Boy, do I feel stupid.”

  “Oh, don’t feel that way, Kyle,” Sylvie said. “I’m new to town, too, and probably would’ve thought the same thing. Westen certainly has a lot of special ways to celebrate the holiday, what with the Yuletide Jubilee and the school pageant.”

  “Oh, I love the pageant,” Rachel said, coming to stand beside Kyle. “We’re going to help build the scenery for it.”

  The half-hearted smile on Kyle’s face didn’t quite match the one on Rachel’s. Cleetus got the idea that the guy was more motivated to spend time with her, than the desire to build and paint scenery. He hid his smile by forking up some of the pumpkin pie Glenna had dropped off at the table.

  “You two need to quit lollygagging around over there,” Lorna Doone said from behind the lunch counter of the café. “We need all those windows done tonight, so we can focus on the tree and the rest of the decorating tomorrow. Get on with it.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the two teens answered in unison.

  “See you later, coach,” Kyle said, as he hurried back over to the last two windows needing decorating.

  “They’re cute together,” Sylvie said, watching the pair.

  Cleetus liked that about Sylvie. She liked to see the best of people, enjoy their happiness. Which was why the little moment of sadness on her face at the phone call bothered him. He was still thinking about it, as he walked her to his truck over by the Sheriff’s office and then drove her home.

  “You’re a little quiet tonight, Cleetus,” she said as they stood on her porch.

  As always, she handed him her house key. From her first night in the ranch house she was now renting, he always unlocked the door and went in first, to be sure the house was empty except for her little cat. She’d protested once. He’d just held out his hand for the key. Now, she never questioned his intention to be sure she was safe.

  He didn’t answer her, as he checked out the kitchen and the basement, then came upstairs to walk through her living room, the bathroom and both bedrooms, including the closets. A few years back he wouldn’t have thought twice about anyone breaking into her home, not in Westen. But in the past year, there’d been a couple of murders, an arsonist, and a Meth lab that had exploded, nearly taking out half the town.

  Once he was sure the only living thing in the house was Calliope, her Calico tabby cat, he came back to the kitchen where she was stood, her coat draped over a kitchen chair. She looked so warm in that yellow wool sweater, with her red, spiky hair. Like a candle in the night.

  “Everything okay?” she asked.

  “All safe and secure,” he said.

  She laid her hand on his arm, and leaned back to look up at him. “I meant with you. Usually you’ve got lots to tell me about the town and what you’ve done during the day. Did something happen today?”

  “No, nothing bad happened.” He swallowed hard. “Sylvie.” He paused, swallowing again. Cupping her soft cheek, he stared down into her big green eyes. “You’d tell me if there was something going on with you, wouldn’t you?”

  She blinked. “Of course.”

  “I mean, if there was anything I should be worried about? Anything that would make you sad? Like maybe that phone call you didn’t want to answer?”

  Again she blinked, only this time, it wasn’t in surprise. She inhaled slowly. Exhaled even slower. “Cleetus, that person isn’t anyone important in my life now. You have to believe me.”

  He stared into her eyes. She still wasn’t telling him everything, but this thing between them felt so new, he was afraid to push her over a phone call she obviously didn’t want to talk about. Hopefully, she’d trust him one day with her past.

  So, instead of talking more, he lowered his mouth to hers. When she parted her lips, he swept in to taste her and as always, a need to hold her poured over him. Curling his body down, he pulled her by the shoulders until she was pressed in close. Just like the first time he kissed her, she moaned softly and linked her arms around his
neck.

  He continued the kiss until a need for more settled deep in his manhood. Breaking the kiss off, he looked down into her eyes. “I’d better go.”

  “Are you sure?” It was her turn to cup his cheek with her dainty hands that had the fingernails decorated for Christmas.

  He covered her hand with his, held it there, closed his eyes and fought for control. Every night it got harder and harder to leave her, but part of his love for Sylvie was his respect for her, too. “As much as I’d like to stay, I treasure you too much to have you be fodder for the gossip mills.”

  “I’m tougher than you give me credit, Cleetus,” she said with a little smile. “Trust me when I say I can handle a few narrow-minded gossips.”

  “I bet you could. Probably put them in their place with a few words. But I’d rather not have something special between us tarnished in any way.”

  Her green eyes went a little misty. “You say the sweetest things.” Pulling her hand away, she stepped back, no longer blocking the back door they’d come in. “And when you say them, I find it impossible to argue with you, but then you know that, don’t you?”

  It was his turn to grin, as he stepped around her to open the door. “My mama didn’t raise a complete fool. I’ll pick you up at nine-thirty for church?”

  “Of course. I wouldn’t miss the first Sunday of Christmas, especially since I know there will be Christmas carols.”

  Cleetus stepped out onto the porch, closing the door behind him. He waited until he heard her turn the deadbolt before getting in his truck and heading home, a sense of shame settling on his shoulders.

  Despite what Sylvie thought of his sweet words, he knew the truth.

  He was a coward.

  As much as he wanted to make love to the cute little woman, he was afraid. Afraid she’d be disappointed in him. Afraid he’d hurt her. But mostly, he was afraid she’d find out that at thirty-three years of age, he was still a virgin.

  * * * * *

  Sylvie turned the lock on her door, listening to Cleetus’ retreating steps down her porch and the start of his truck engine, before heading to her bedroom. He was such a good man. Given his size, most people would be afraid of him, but just like the Sheriff’s fiancée and Cleetus’ fellow deputy, Bobby Roberts, said, Cleetus was a gentle giant—intimidating if he needed to be, but kind at heart. Her whole life, she’d never felt as cherished, as protected, as safe as she did with Cleetus.

  Calliope brushed up against her legs, purring softly.

  “Did you miss me, sweetie?” She scooped the cat up in her arms, snuggling her face in the soft orange-and-brown fur. Immediately, she was rewarded with more purrs.

  Another first for her. She’d never been allowed a pet of any kind growing up. When she’d seen Calliope in a pet store on her way out of Bartell’s Levee, she’d snatched her up, and they’d been together on this grand adventure ever since.

  With her free hand, she grabbed her bag and headed into her bedroom. Depositing Calliope in the center of the bed, she sat to unzip her boots and pull them off.

  Pulling the cute elf costume out of her bag, she hung it up in the closet. It had gotten a little wrinkled in her bag while she’d eaten dinner with Cleetus, but the effort to iron out the wrinkles would be worth seeing the surprise on his face when she wore the costume Monday. She looped the red-and-white striped leggings around the hanger hook.

  Finally, she pulled her phone out of the bag and looked at the caller ID with a heavy sigh. Whatever they’d wanted, it couldn’t be good news. With a shake of her head, she tossed the phone on the bed near Calliope. The cat gave her a look equivalent to a human you-didn’t-just-mean-to-scare-me-did-you stare.

  Sylvie laughed. “Don’t give me any grief, Miss C, or you’ll find yourself sleeping in another room with the door closed.”

  Calliope wasn’t impressed with the threat.

  Sylvie glanced at the phone once more. Guilt for putting her mother off niggled at her. She shook it off. Might as well get ready for bed, best to hear bad news when you were comfy. Somehow it seemed to lessen the pain.

  Her makeup off, teeth brushed, pajamas on, she climbed into her queen-sized bed and reached across the pillow to where her phone landed earlier. Calliope snuggled into her side. Pulling up the recent call log on the phone app, Sylvie stared at the picture on the caller ID.

  Mama.

  When she left home, she’d considered not telling anyone where she was, but she hadn’t wanted her mother to worry. So, she’d made sure she had her phone number and the name of the town where she was staying. She had nothing to hide. Leaving home wasn’t a crime or something to be ashamed over.

  She hadn’t given the family number the Grinch ringtone because she was a horrible mother or person. No, she gave the song to that number because her father was the last person she wanted to be caught off guard talking to, just in case he was using Mama to try to contact her. She wouldn’t put it past him. When it came to Daddy or her brothers, a girl had best be prepared to defend herself.

  Taking in a deep breath and stiffening her resolve, she hit the call button.

  “Hello?” the softly spoken Southern accent pulled at Sylvie’s heartstrings. Her mama not only looked as if a good gust of wind would knock her over, but her feathery voice always sounded one inch from shattered.

  “Hey, Mama.”

  “Sylvie.”

  Sylvie automatically smiled, and wiped the tears that sprang to her eyes, hearing the smile in her mother’s voice.

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t answer earlier. I was still at work.” Sylvie hoped her mother wouldn’t hear the lie.

  “Oh, I figured you might still be doing someone’s hair, but took a chance to call. Is everything going okay with you up there?”

  “Yes. I have the best boss, and the whole town makes me feel welcome. I even found a little house to rent.”

  “I worry about you so far away from home and on your own, sweetie.”

  She hated that her mother worried, but she’d left Bartell’s Levee, Virginia, to save herself. Living on her own in Westen was far safer, although she couldn’t tell Mama that.

  “Please don’t worry, Mama. I’m happy, safe, and I’ve made some new friends.”

  A deep rumble sounded on the other end of the phone.

  Dang it. Her father was listening in.

  “Sweetie, when will you…be home for Christmas?” The nervous catch in her mother’s voice told Sylvie that her father was the one wanting to know.

  Sylvie ground her teeth and narrowed her eyes. She’d left town to escape his plans for her. No way was she going to go back and let him force her to do what he wanted. He didn’t own her, and she wasn’t going to give in.

  “Mama, I’m not going to come to Bartell’s Levee for the holidays. We’re very busy up here, and there’s supposed to be snowstorms over the next few weeks.” Silently, she prayed for more snow—lots of it.

  “Sweetie—” her mother started to say.

  “Girl, you need to get your heinie back home.” Her father deep, angry voice sounded on the phone. “You have obligations to this family.”

  “No, I don’t. You made that contract with Mr. Klingman, not me. I’m not coming back to Bartell’s Levee. Ever.”

  With that promise, she hung up on her father as he spewed curses at her.

  CLOSE TO SANTA’S HEART

  CHAPTER THREE

  Sheriff’s Deputy Wes Strong sat at the bar of the Wagon Wheel tavern, eating chicken wings and sipping on a glass of tea, all the while keeping an eye on the group of bikers playing pool at the far end of the bar. On duty, he refused to drink even one beer. Things had a way of going from good to questionable to bad in a heartbeat, even in small-town Westen.

  Hell, who was he kidding? This town seemed to be having more drama than a nineteen-eighties’ primetime soap opera. In the past year, a Meth lab on the outskirts nearly blew up the town and almost killed his boss, Sheriff Gage Justice. Then, a few months ago, a serial arso
nist tried to burn down half the town. Who knew living in a small Midwestern town could be so dangerous?

  Certainly hadn’t been on his mind when he’d come to town a few years ago. In fact, he’d chosen to come to Westen to try and find some peace.

  A shadow fell over his shoulder.

  Instinctively, he tensed, his hand settling on the knife beside his plate.

  “Mind if I join you, Wes?” Fellow deputy Cleetus took the barstool to Wes’ left. “Figured I’d find you in here tonight, after that incident with the kissing tax and mistletoe last night.”

  Relaxing, Wes eased his grip on the steak knife and chuckled. “Got to hand it to Dan and Phil. Holding all the patrons hostage until the men either kissed their dates or allowed Dan and Phil to kiss their women certainly was an ingenious way to add the Christmas spirit to the festivities.”

  “Glad they didn’t give us any trouble when we arrived. Sure would’ve hated to lock them up for mostly innocent fun.”

  “Me, too.” He ate a few more bites of his food, washing it down with his tea. “What brings you by this late? I thought you were done for the night, earlier.”

  “I was. Made my last round checking the stores downtown about seven. Took Sylvie to dinner.”

  Wes hid his smile as he downed a mouthful of tea. His friend had it bad for the little red-headed hairdresser. Turning to tease him, the words died in his mouth at the sad expression on Cleetus’ face. The guy looked more down than a hound dog who just lost the fox. “Something wrong, Cleetus?”

  The bartender set a mug of root beer in front of the other deputy, before he could answer. “Your usual, Cleetus.”

  “Thanks, Mac,” he said, then took a long drink.