Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas
Page 116
“All in a day’s work, right?” Reyn said.
“Yep.” Lackner pushed his hat back on his head, and pulled his gloves back on. “Getting colder. Snow’s coming, according to Estelle.” Estelle Hestworth was the local weather witch, and they were all glad she was back to predicting the weather.
“Big snow?” That would be bad. The last thing they needed for the holiday week was the weather turning New England ugly.
“Nah. Just a few inches. Nothing major.”
Snow drifted lazily downward, as if on cue. It was a soft contrast to the stink of burned rubber tires, oil, and scorched metal.
“Gotcha a date for the Yule Ball this year?” Lackner asked.
“No.” Reyn always scheduled a training session or taught a class at the National Fire Academy in Emmitsburg, Maryland, when any of the annual Haven Harbor Galas, or Balls rolled around. He avoided them like the plague. This year, however, nothing had gelled.
“You can’t avoid ‘em forever, son.” Carl laughed, gripping Reyn’s shoulder. “The missus and all the witchy biddies ‘round town, they’ll get you sooner or later.”
“Yeah, right.” Reyn tried to laugh it off, but it was true. Haven Harbor was the kind of town that encouraged you to stay. The roots of the town went back to the earliest Colonies, and the blood ties of families who’d founded Haven Harbor encouraged that settling down pattern.
“Ain’t jokin’ son.” Carl peered at him. The flashing lights created eerie shadows in the snowy night. “There’s plenty of bachelors, but the coven ladies, they like you. You’re always working with the kids up there at the fire station, my wife says, and you know what that puts in her head. You’re A-number-one on her fix-up list.”
“Seriously?” Reyn wasn’t sure whether to be astonished or pissed.
“Yep. I think the town matchmakers see you as a challenge.”
Reyn winced. “Well, off limits. Not interested.”
Carl laughed. “Oh, yeah, like that’ll work. I can tell ‘em anything I want but getting ‘em to listen? That would take a visit from Hecate herself.”
He slapped Reyn on the back much as Reyn had done with Tim and, laughing, limped back to his cruiser.
“What’s Lackner giving you crap about now?” That was the first thing out of Tim’s mouth when Reyn came over to the truck.
“The Yule Ball.”
“You takin’ a date?” Tim asked. “This is the first year you’re gonna actually go in…what? Five years?”
“Does everyone keep track of my love life?”
Tim laughed. “Nah, but my cousin was asking.”
Reyn shot him the bird, and it broke the tension. Back at the station house he wrote the salient points for his report before heading to the shower.
“Wonder what caused those brakes to fire up?” He was still wondering when he fell into his bunk at the fire hall an hour later.
A YULE TO REMEMBER
CHAPTER TWO
Annie was so excited about decorating that she was awake by five a.m. on Saturday. She’d baked her apfel kuchen the night before. It always tasted better on the second day.
She parked at the Inn at Haven Harbor and carried in the large box stacked with baked goods. She unpacked it on the table in the ballroom next to the coffee as Moira hailed her from across the room.
“Hey Annie!” Moira hurried over. “Oh, look at those cinnamon rolls!” She pulled one off and tossed it from hand to hand. “Still hot.” She blew on the roll before taking a bite. Annie grinned as Patty headed over as well.
“Thanks, Annie,” Patty said, picking up a square of the apfle kuchen and a napkin.
“This is great,” Moira added, pouring coffee as she took another bite. Annie arranged three platters of rolls, pastry, and the danish along with napkins and small plates with the Classic Cauldron logo on them.
“So what’s my job?” Annie asked.
“I want you to hang the mistletoe,” Moira said. “You know the drill. Put it in odd corners, overhead on the chandeliers, obviously at the kissing booth, and be sure to put one in that nice dimly lit corridor going to the restrooms.”
“You know the coven mischief makers will have their own magick ones,” Patty said with a grin.
Moira grinned back. “I know, but these will get things started.”
“I’m on it,” Annie said on a laugh. “Good thing is, I’ll know where they are.”
“Yeah, but all bets are off once the party starts. I got caught under the mistletoe by old man Calhoun last year,” Patty said with a sigh.
Annie laughed. “You’ve been complaining about that ever since. But you know the rules. Get caught, gotta kiss. Otherwise you’ll court bad luck, and hey, you won’t get married this year if you don’t kiss.”
“No date, so hey, no wedding bells,” Patty groused. They joked over their close calls with the mistletoe for a few minutes, then got to work. Annie had hung almost all of the kissing boughs, hiding them in various places as ordered, when the firefighters arrived to help hang the heavy stuff.
Assistant Chief Karen Hamm and three of the guys came in and headed straight for the coffee and goodies. Chief Shapleigh finished a call as he stood in the doorway, so he came straight over to Moira for his assignment.
“Karen, if you and your guys would work with me to hang these super-long, heavy yew and holly garlands over the doors to the terrace that would be great. Tim please give Patty an assist with the holly swags and ivy and ribbon garland on the grand staircase. Reyn, if you’ll hold the ladder for Annie to hang the last of the kissing balls, I’d be grateful.”
Everyone scattered to their assigned posts, and Annie climbed the ladder Reyn moved into place. She’d hung all the mistletoe in the lower-ceilinged areas so now, with Reyn’s help, they’d hang the high ones.
“Thanks for coming to help,” she said, as she wired the kissing ball onto the bottom of the crystal chandelier. “It’s just these last two.”
“No problem. I figure if I know where all the mistletoe is, I can avoid it.”
Annie was startled into a laugh. “Oh, my gosh, I thought I was the only one who did that!” She smiled down at him. “I’ll show you where I’ve hung the others.”
He smiled back and she felt the warmth of it all the way to her toes.
“Thanks. It’s not that I don’t like the tradition,” he began.
“I know. I like it too, but in a town full of witches, you never know what’s going to happen if you kiss, and there’s all kinds of pressure if you don’t kiss,” she said.
“Yeah, don’t want bad luck. Always want to kiss if you’re caught, right?”
“Right, unless you really don’t want to get married. Or you want every witch in town frowning at you for courting misfortune.”
They grinned in complete accord. “The women in my family, if they’re into kitchen witchery like me,” she said, “are always spinsters. So I’m not sure the kissing-not-kissing thing works on the Boylstons.”
“Your cousin Samantha would dispute that,” he said with a laugh. Annie climbed down, and he moved the ladder across the room to the second enormous chandelier.
“Yes, but she’s not into magick. You were Whitt’s best man.” Annie had been the sixth bridesmaid, paired up with Samantha’s younger brother, Hugh. She’d mooned over all the groomsmen back then, including the handsome Reyn Shapleigh.
“Yeah.” He braced the ladder as she tied the mistletoe on the second grand light fixture. “Are they still in Albany?”
“They are. Three kids now. And you went into firefighting.” She looked down at him, leaning on the top of the ladder. “Was it fun to live in Connecticut? And to fight wildfires out west? I heard you went down to Florida last year to fight wildfires.”
She’d wanted to ask him about that since she’d learned of it, but she’d never really had a chance to talk to him one on one.
“Connecticut wasn’t much different than Massachusetts,” he said. He held out a hand to help her dismou
nt. Her fingers tingled, which was weird, because he hadn’t held her hand that firmly.
Reyn was careful to move the ladder away from the mistletoe before he took it down. “Florida was just hot and flat. Palm trees are nice, but they aren’t oaks.”
“I liked Florida,” she admitted. “There’s a fabulous culinary seminar in Orlando. I’ve been twice, but I wouldn’t want to live there.”
Reyn nodded and set the ladder down by the service entrance. She pulled his arm, and kept him away from the mistletoe over the second swinging door.
“I figured the staff might like kisses too,” she said. “Now you can avoid that one.”
“Thanks.” When he smiled at her again, warm and friendly, Annie’s knees went weak. He’d smiled at her before, but this time he was smiling right at her.
“You’re welcome.” She knew she was blushing, but she couldn’t help it.
“Annie,” Patty called. “I’m going to open this other apfle kuchen. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” she called back, blessing her friend for breaking up the weird moment with the fire chief. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked him, as she turned back. “I brought breakfast goodies and Patty brought coffee.”
“Cinnamon rolls?”
“Pumpkin cinnamon rolls,” she corrected. When he looked surprised, she added, “and apfel kuchen. The recipe was my great-grandmother’s. Patty swears it’s got magick in it.”
“Then I’ll have to try it.”
They skirted the chandeliers, and headed to the table. “So where are the other land mines?” he asked, pulling a cup and plate off the stack.
She laughed. He was easy to talk to, and she appreciated his desire to avoid the embarrassing mistletoe traps. “Get some coffee and I’ll show you.”
They spent a companionable time in the ballroom and on the mezzanine, where she pointed out the sneaky positioning of the greenery.
“How did you hang the one up there?” he asked, pointing to the mistletoe at the top of the stairs.
“Oh, that one’s on a pulley. You untie the pulley, which has a weight on it, and bring it down. Tie the mistletoe on, pull it back up and voila, kissing ball on the stairs, catching every couple that comes in that way.”
In the lobby she showed him the one she’d hung by the coatroom. “And I think that’s it.”
“I’ve made a mental map,” he joked. “Thanks.” As they headed back to the ballroom, he said, “I’m usually at some kind of training course when the Yule Ball happens, so I haven’t had to worry about it.”
Reyn paused as they reached the ballroom, and she looked up at him. He was fairly tall, at least six feet or better, to her five-foot-three in her sneakers. Her heartbeat picked up its pace. With his dark hair and brown eyes, he was quite handsome.
She was about to say something to break the moment when Moira called out to them. “Hey, you two! Stop!”
They turned. “What?” Annie called, worried that they were about to step on a garland or decoration.
Moira pointed. “I just hung the extra kissing ball I made, and you’re under it! Kiss!”
“Gotcha, Chief!” Tim called, hooting out a laugh as the rest of the group called encouragement.
“C’mon, Chief!” Karen urged, grinning at their predicament.
Moira called, “Hey, it’s not like kissing’s a hardship right?”
Reyn looked down. “Guess we’ve been caught.”
“I guess,” Annie said, frowning. “Well, maybe this will make our luck for the night.”
“Exactly,” he said. He bent down and she stretched up, her hand resting lightly on his chest for balance.
“First Yule kiss! Make it good!” the others chanted.
“They’re idiots,” he murmured, just before his mouth met hers.
She was smiling when they kissed, but the rush of heat that coursed through her was like a furnace. It only lasted a moment, but it felt like an eternity as their lips clung, then parted.
When she dropped down, with her feet flat on the floor, she just stared at him.
“Whoa,” he murmured, gazing at her lips, then into her eyes. “What was that?”
She shook her head, totally buzzing with the aftermath of the kiss. “No idea, but we’ve managed our quota.”
“I guess we should be relieved, right?” he said, still looking a little puzzled, and a little thunderstruck. Since that’s the way she felt, she had some sympathy.
She put her hand on his arm to pull him out from under the green menace that was the kissing ball. “That has to be it. Just the power of the moment. The first kiss under the Yule Ball mistletoe.”
“Something like that, I guess.” He reached out, his thumb brushing over the corner of her mouth. Her heart thumped double-time again. “I smudged your lipstick.”
She’d forgotten she was wearing any. Glancing at him, Annie realized he was wearing it too. She pulled a clean tissue from her pocket and handed it to him as they headed to the table with the goodies.
“You have it on your mouth,” she said, feeling awkward. “I mean, your lips.”
“I don’t mind.”
He was about to say more when the radio at his belt signaled.
####
“This is Chief Shapleigh, go ahead,” Reyn said, watching pretty Annie Boylston as she blushed in front of him.
“Chief,” the dispatcher said. “We got a report of a suspicious fire. Sheriff put it out but he wants you to call him. He also asked about the truck fire.”
Why hadn’t Reyn ever noticed before just how pretty Annie was? Hers was a quiet kind of elegance, a beauty, rather than an in-your-face kind of cute. She was like a bird whose feathers looked plain until she spread her wings. Then you saw the color and pattern and complexity of who she was.
And where had that poetic babble come from?
“Chief?”
“Roger,” Reyn confirmed, covering his distraction with briskness. “I’m on it.”
“Truck fire?” Annie said, and the words echoed in the high-ceilinged space.
“The call from last night.” Reyn cocked his head. “That was you wasn’t it, in your delivery van? You waved. You always do.”
“Yeah,” she admitted. “We were burned out of our house when I was a teenager. I have a lot of respect for the work you do. So I always wave.”
He had a sudden memory of the girl she’d been in high school, pale and stricken-looking when someone in Mrs. Jones’s class joked about burning the Raglands’ barn. He’d never forgotten her response. She’d told the jokester that property fire was never, ever funny. She’d eloquently expressed the suffering fire brought on its heels.
“Did Sherri Minner ever apologize for pissing you off over her threat to burn down the Ragland place?”
Annie looked surprised. “Wow, I hadn’t thought about that in years. That was right after Lianna and I came to Haven Harbor High. Sherri did apologize. And someone did burn it, didn’t they? They questioned Sherri,” she said. “She was in bed with chicken pox, so they knew it wasn’t her.”
“Yeah, that was bad,” Reyn said, remembering the incident. He’d been a junior to Annie’s freshman, and already a fire department volunteer. “I think that was the only class we had together, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. Mrs. Jones. Keyboarding. Bleech. It was awful to have it with my sister and her friends too.”
“No argument,” he said with a laugh, studying her. “Your sister and her pack were a force of nature.” He took a bite of the apple pastry and closed his eyes in sheer bliss. Good Gods the woman could bake. “Man, this is good.”
“Thanks.” She gave him a small smile, as if embarrassed by the memories, before turning away. “Oh, I should have made more of the pumpkin cinnamon rolls.”
“You made those too?” he said, moving over to snag the last one on the plate. He bit in. “They’re outstanding.”
“Thank you.” They stood for an awkward minute, before his radio beeped again.
“Oh, of course. See you then,” she agreed, picking up napkins and plates.
“Hey Annie? Save me a dance.”
She clutched the plates to her chest, startled. He might have laughed at her gobsmacked look, but why would she be so surprised?
“O-of, course,” she said.
“Great. Thanks for the cinnamon rolls.”
####
Hours later, Annie was still flustered by the kiss and the dance request. What the heck had happened under the mistletoe? They’d kissed, of course, but something else had happened, because Reyn Shapleigh had asked her to save him a dance.
That had never happened before.
He’d also remembered her from high school. No one did that. Well, no one but Moira and Patty.
For the first time in a long time, she stood in front of her closet contemplating what to wear.
“Lianna never has this problem,” she groused to the cats, who sat on the dresser watching her with avid interest. “She buys clothes like other people buy groceries––often, and with nonchalance reserved for necessities.” Shopping wasn’t Annie’s first love unless it was for cooking ingredients. Or china. Or cookie cutters. Or mixers. Or cookbooks.
She laughed. “I buy stuff, it just isn’t wearable.”
Forty-five minutes later, she’d decided to not wear the unflattering green dress. Instead, she put on the bronze, short-skirted confection that Moira had pressed her to buy. She’d left the tags on, fully intending to return it the next time she went to Newburyport.
Moira whooped when Annie walked into the Inn for the Ball. “Oh, my gosh, you kept it! I was sure you’d returned it.”
Blushing, Annie admitted she’d intended to. “It fits so well, but it seemed like an extravagance.”
“I thought you were wearing the green thing,” Patty said, coming up to them, drink in hand. “This is so much better!” She made a spin around motion with her hand, and Annie twirled. “Love it.”
A young man hurried over as the music cranked up. “Hey Miss Annie,” Jesse, one of her teenaged employees, said, blushing as he greeted the other two women. “Can I still get a dance?”