Mistletoe Not Required

by A. D. Justice

  For the first time in my life, I’m shocked speechless. The kids within earshot, however, are not.

  “Hey, I want a rabbit too!”

  “Mom, can I have a rabbit?”

  “Bunny rabbits! I love bunny rabbits!”

  At least I have the benefit of a fake beard to hide my face behind. When Mallory meets the disapproving glares from the moms in the crowd, she tries to use her long brown hair to shield her face. But the heat emanating from it is hot enough to melt the snow around us.

  “Well, little girl, you’ve caused quite a scene, as usual. In case you were wondering, that’s not a rabbit in my pocket. I really am glad to see you.”

  “Just shoot me now. Seriously. Now I can never show my face in this town again.”

  “Ah, it’s not that bad. Look on the bright side—things could be so much worse. We could go skinny-dipping in the hot tub, and you could show your ass instead.”

  “You know you’re just making it harder, don’t you?”

  “No, babe, that’s exactly what you’re doing. Wiggle on my lap a little more, and we will make front page news.”

  She rolls her eyes and suppresses a laugh, something I’d love to hear her do again. The last time she laughed with me was just before we broke up—a long time ago now. After that day, her smile faded and her laughter disappeared…at least as far as I’m concerned.

  “You and I are old news, Santa. No one cares about yesterday anymore. Just make sure you get my toy right.”

  She leaves the platform, bouncing down the steps like she doesn’t have a care in the world, and heads toward Santa’s Workshop. I feel someone else slide onto my lap before I can tear my eyes away from Mallory. When I turn to my next visitor, I expect to see a small child, but find Amelia’s intense stare on me instead.

  “Santa, I want my best friend to be happy again. And I want the man who broke her heart to do whatever it takes to put the pieces back together again. Or else, no one will ever find all the pieces of said heartbreaker after I’m through with him. We understand each other, yes?”

  “Absolutely.”

  I don’t scare easily, but Amelia has a mean streak hidden under that charming Southern exterior. She follows up with a sweet smile, as if she didn’t just threaten me within an inch of my life, before she abruptly stands. “I’m glad we understand each other. The clock is ticking, Santa. You’d better break out the mistletoe and all the things that sparkle to impress my girl.”

  Chapter Five

  Mallory

  As I walk around Santa’s Workshop, the scene with Hunter replays in my mind like a scene from a movie set to loop endlessly. I don’t want to feel what I’m feeling right now. The way his arm felt around my waist. The warmth of his breath against my cheek. How the low-pitch of his voice vibrated against the shell of my ear when he whispered sexy nothings to me. This is insane—I’m insane.

  After all this time apart.

  After the pain and humiliation he caused me when we split up.

  After I swore him off forever.

  Just because he shows me the slightest bit of attention, I’m like an inexperienced young girl falling for him all over again.

  “Well, you certainly had an interesting visit with Santa. Why on earth did we wait so long to visit this awesome place?” Amelia sidles up next to me, her face intentionally passive. But I know my best friend, and she’s anything but passive.

  “What did you do, Amelia?”

  “Nothing. Nothing at all. What are you talking about?”

  “Uh-huh. It’ll come out. It always does.”

  “In this case, I hope you’re right.” She turns on her high-beam smile and walks over to examine a display case of Christmas goodies, leaving me with no real answers.

  The smell of fresh-brewed coffee hits me, nearly making me salivate right where I stand. I follow the rich aroma to the back of the store and find the counter. The pastries in the case immediately draw my attention. “Are these from Myles Coffee Company in town?”

  “Yes, they are. Would you like one?” The cute little barista in the elf outfit and matching apron steps toward me.

  “Yes, I do. I can’t resist them.” I point to the biggest one they have and order a large white chocolate mocha to go with it. The people at the table closest to the fireplace leave just in time for me to grab the most coveted seat.

  The garland on the mantel is professionally decorated with the biggest sphere- and teardrop-shaped ornaments I’ve ever seen, in an assortment of green, gold, and red. A shimmery red tulle twines over and under the trimmings, tying them together. Tiny white lights twinkle within the fabric, sending starbursts through the mesh. On the wall above the mantel hangs a hand-painted picture of Santa and one of his reindeer, and three wreaths made of mistletoe and red bows flank it on both sides.

  Looking around the shop, I notice all the other unassuming special touches that make the business as cozy as it can be. Pictures of locals playing in the snow, riding in the sleighs, and singing Christmas carols are strategically placed amid similarly themed decorations. Colorful hand-painted signs with whimsical quotes draw my attention next.

  And that’s when I see it. I rise from my seat and walk to the table full of romantic Christmas decorations, forgetting my pastry and coffee are unfinished.

  The wooden keepsake box I ordered specially made for Hunter years ago, with both of our names and a promise of a forever love carved into the lid, is in a prominent place amid the true-love-themed collection. I reach out to touch it, running my fingers along the words while the memories run through my mind.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” I turn to find a young girl in an elf costume. Her name tag reads Nadine. She can’t be more than seventeen, if that old.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “It’s not for sale, though, in case you were wondering. Mr. Beckett won’t part with it, even though several people have asked to buy it.”

  “Mr. Beckett won’t part with it?” I’m so confused. Did Hunter’s father donate this box to the store? And why would he care about a gift from his son’s girlfriend from when we were teenagers?

  “No. He won’t even consider it.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “But we can engrave a new one for you if you’d like.”

  “No, thank you. I’m just looking.” I walk back to my fireside table and absently sip on what’s left of my coffee, still feeling perplexed.

  “Want to tell me what that forlorn expression is all about?”

  I look up and find Amelia sitting across from me. Funny thing, I didn’t even hear her approach. “Did you really just say ‘forlorn’? Does anyone actually use that word in everyday conversation?”

  “Only when they’re attempting to be over-the-top dramatic and make a very poignant point.”

  “Ah. I suppose ‘poignant point’ is in the same category with ‘forlorn,’ huh?”

  “Absolutely. And when you try to get out of answering my very direct questions, you dodge and deflect or evade and misdirect. I’m onto you, though, missy. So, let’s hear it.”

  Knowing she won’t stop until I spill everything, I recount the entire scene of finding the engraved box and admit I can’t make sense out of any of it. Then she stares at me—with her you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me expression firmly set on her face.

  “Mallory, with all sincerity, you’re one of the smartest people I know. But right now, you’re just being plain stupid.”

  “Look, I know what you’re going to say. Believe me, out of the million thoughts running through my mind, at least one of the scenarios is that Hunter still has feelings for me. And maybe he does—but who’s to say it’s not just one of nostalgia? It’s been four years since we were together, Meli. Time has a way of romanticizing the past, making it seem better than it really was. The fact of the matter is, I haven’t heard from him in all that time. Not once. And after the way we parted, how can I believe anything but what I see?”

  “What do you see, Mal?”

  “We
were young—too young for the strong feelings we had for each other. Maybe he has fond memories of us, but that doesn’t mean instant happily ever after. That means I’ll be the girl he used to know when he tells his wife about me one day.”

  “You are way too young to be so cynical. We’ll have to work on that. It’s really not an attractive quality.”

  “Bite me.”

  “I’m really going to enjoy saying ‘I told you so’ one day very soon.”

  “You should get a cup of coffee and one of the pastries in that case up there. They’re delicious. When you nearly have an orgasm from the combination, I’ll be able to say ‘I told you so’ tonight.”

  When she returns with her food and coffee, she slides into the seat and shocks the hell out of me. “What’d you tell Santa you wanted for Christmas? Coffee and pastries? Or more orgasms? I’m curious.”

  When I raise my eyes to meet hers, I immediately realize she knows who was under the fake beard and the large red suit. So much for flying under the radar with the whole sitting-on-my-ex’s-lap thing.

  “I definitely went with more orgasms. Didn’t you hear us? The rest of the line did.”

  Not expecting that answer from me, she spews hot coffee across the table before choking on the small amount she was in the middle of swallowing. “Actually, no, I didn’t. I was distracted by this extremely handsome man waiting in line with his niece.”

  “Oh good, we can finally talk about your lack of love life instead of mine.”

  “Uh, no, we can’t. Yours needs more immediate attention. Besides, you haven’t told me what everyone else in line overheard you saying to Hunter.”

  One humiliation per night should be the legal limit, but it seems I’m shit out of luck in that department. After recounting my embarrassing gaffe—and enduring Amelia’s fit of laughter—all eyes are on us again.

  “Where has this Mallory been the last four years? We missed getting into so much trouble together.”

  “This town just seems to bring it out in me.”

  “Sounds to me like Hunter is the one who brings it out of you.”

  “Without a doubt, it’s all Hunter’s fault.”

  “What am I getting credit for this time?” Hunter pulls out the extra chair from the table and makes himself comfortable.

  “Credit? No, Hunter, you’re getting all the blame.” Amelia laughs and pops a piece of her cinnamon bun in her mouth.

  “Credit. Blame. Semantics. All depends on how good the story is.”

  “This is all about your bad influence skills over my best friend. I’m really enjoying it, to be honest. Maybe you should share some pointers.”

  “I wish I could take credit for it—but the truth is, that’s just who she is. I think she’s just more comfortable showing that side when I’m around.” Hunter smirks with his sexy, half grin, knowing damn well that was the smile I never could resist.

  “We both know that someone had to take the blame for all the trouble we got into. That someone was just usually me.”

  Even though I want to hate him, I can’t. Not when I’m around him. His easygoing personality disarms me every time. He’s the perfect combination of laid-back and high-strung. How he pulls that off is a mystery to me and always has been. But he does it so well. His outer demeanor is cool and calm, but I can sense the pent-up energy just below the surface. Like a panther ready to pounce on its unsuspecting prey. Only now, I’m very suspicious and on constant alert where he’s concerned. He’s pouring on the charm and saying all the right things. Bringing up the best memories. Making our reunion feel like it was planned instead of purely coincidental.

  He’s talking, carrying most of the conversation as he regales Amelia with tales of our high school exploits. For added emphasis, he cuts his eyes to me at pivotal moments, keeping that live wire between us fully energized. I don’t even know what he’s talking about because his lips are all I can focus on at the moment. Full and soft, yet hot and demanding when they were against my skin. I mean, the mistletoe is right there on the wall above our heads. Perfect excuse.

  When I told Amelia he was my first, I didn’t elaborate. He was my first everything. My first best friend. My first partner in crime. My first crush. My first kiss. My first love. My first lover. Everything I learned about love in the first degree was with him. The problem was, at eighteen years old, I believed he was my whole life, my future, my everything. Finding out the truth was beyond painful.

  But knowing my own grandmother was the driving force behind our breakup knocked me to my knees. Knowing Hunter agreed with what she said about me sent me into a deep, dark tailspin I’m not sure I’ve recovered from yet. Sometimes I wish I’d never overheard that conversation, so I’d be none the wiser. But at times like now, when I find myself being pulled back under his spell, wishing I could kiss those perfect lips of his just one more time, reliving that moment brings me back to my senses.

  “Do you know a man named Chad with the cutest three-year-old niece you’ve ever seen? Her name is Lauren.” Amelia tries to act nonchalant, as if she’s making casual conversation. But I know her better than she thinks I do. Chad made quite an impression on her.

  “Yes, I know him very well. Chad Sanders. We’ve been friends forever, and we work together now. I’m sure Mallory remembers him. How do you know him?”

  “I don’t really. We met while standing in line to see Santa tonight and talked for a few minutes. He seems like a good guy.” Amelia glances around the store, refusing to make eye contact with me now that I’ve tuned back into the conversation.

  “Is he still single?” I get straight to the point Amelia has only been hinting at. Her gaze slides back to mine, the muscles around her eyes crinkling as she narrows them at me.

  Hunter doesn’t want to answer me at first, showing the first sign of insecurity I’ve ever seen out of him. He thinks I’m interested in Chad. “Um, yeah, he is. No wife. No girlfriend. Just a younger sister he guards with his life and a niece who hung the moon and stars in his eyes.”

  “He did dote on her more than most guys I’ve seen. I thought she was his daughter at first.” Amelia leans in to engage and gain more information on Chad.

  “Lauren’s dad took off when Tara was still pregnant. Chad looked for Brett for weeks, but it’s a good thing Chad never found him. He was out for blood. He assumed the responsibility for taking care of those two little ladies from that day on.”

  “What about Tara’s parents? Do they help too?”

  “Not so much. They weren’t too happy with her when she came home pregnant at seventeen and told them her baby’s daddy was almost twice her age.”

  “She was barely legal. I don’t blame them for being mad at Brett, but Tara and Lauren still needed them.” When Amelia finds a cause, she latches on with both hands. Her sudden and severe change in tone is potentially worrisome. Crusade against injustice is on her business card.

  “Believe me, Chad has more than made up for his parents’ lack of involvement. And he’s told them several times what he thinks about it. He’s one of the good guys. Maybe I should set you two up, then you can tag-team their parents and give them hell.”

  “Hmm.” Amelia pretends to consider his offer. We both know she’s interested. “Maybe you should.”

  “A double date would probably be best. You know, to help break the ice and ease the awkwardness of a first date. Don’t you think, Mal?” Hunter looks at me, but there’s no humor in his eyes. What I see is pure desire, and it sets me on fire all the way to my core.

  No way around it…I’m doomed.

  Chapter Six

  Hunter

  “A double date? You may have the right idea, Hunter. I’m sure there’s a hot, single man left in this little town. Not a tourist, though. They’re here with their families, and that would just be weird.” Mallory taps her pursed lips with her manicured fingertip, pretending to give the idea serious consideration.

  She thinks she’s so funny. Okay, usually she is, but she also
knows exactly how to push my buttons and make me instantly jealous of a fictional man. She has no intentions of finding some random guy to take on a double date, but she does want to make me squirm until the very last second. I can take it, though. But I wonder…can she?

  “Sure, there are still plenty of single men here. You know most of them from school. In fact, I saw the perfect man for you just now, walking around in Santa’s Village, on my way in here.”

  The cute little smirk on her face fades, and a leery expression takes its place. “Who would that be?”

  “You remember Ian Butler, right? I’m sure he’d jump at the chance to take you out. In fact, I can go outside and try to find him right now.” To prove my point, I start to stand, but she reaches across the table and grabs my arm to stop me.

  “No, no, no, no, no. Don’t do that. I’m friends with him on Facebook, and he’s been shopping around for a wife for a while now. He’ll get the wrong idea. Besides, he has that whole toenail fungus problem going on. I wouldn’t be able to think of anything except wondering how he’d ever get a pedicure without an electric grinder on hand.”

  Amelia’s laugh escapes before she can stop it. She quickly tries to cover it with a cough, but that only makes her sound like she’s choking. I reach over and pat her on the back, feigning concern over her sudden outburst. “Are you okay, Amelia?”

  “Fine. Fine. Don’t worry about me. Let’s just find Mallory a date and hope Chad is interested in one with me.” She covers her mouth with her hand, but that does little to hide her mile-wide smile.

  “Oh, I know. What about Leon Bolt? He has his own business and owns a whole fleet of cars.”

  “Now you’re not even trying. He took over the funeral home from his parents so they could travel, and his fleet of cars is actually hearses. The one he drives everywhere has a magnetic sign on the side, advertising his business. His funeral home business, Hunter. That’s just creepy. He also went through that period where he thought he was a vampire. At least until he walked in on an embalming in process and passed out cold when he saw the blood.”