Mistletoe Not Required

by A. D. Justice

  “No, I’m not. Your dad and I wait to watch that together.”

  “Whoa—good one, Mom! I didn’t expect that comeback. I’m impressed. What are you grinning about, then?”

  “I just finished pulling almost all the financials for the end of the year—well, considering there’s only about a week left this year, it’s basically all. And this has been the most profitable year ever. I’m just so proud of you and what you’ve accomplished with this business.”

  It’s never been about the money for me, though it is a nice benefit.

  “Glad to hear it, Mom. And you’ll be glad to hear what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Oh? Does it involve grandchildren anytime soon?”

  “No. But I am taking the day off tomorrow, so that’s a step in the right direction.”

  “You’re taking off work? The whole day?” She looks at me with one eyebrow slightly raised, waiting for the punch line.

  “That’s right. The whole day.”

  “Why? Are you sick? Do you need to go to the hospital?” She sits back and crosses her arms.

  “No, I’m fine, and you know it. I’m spending the day with Mallory tomorrow…and this was even her idea.”

  “That’s exciting news. I’m happy for you, son. And I’m very glad you’re actually taking a day off. I’ll make sure your work is covered by someone else right this minute. In fact, you should go ahead and leave now.”

  “You know what? You’re right. Everything here is covered for the rest of the evening. I’m heading home early.”

  “Have fun tomorrow.”

  At nine on the dot, I ring the doorbell at Mallory’s, more excited than a little kid on Christmas morning. She tried to keep the conversation casual when she called yesterday, not admitting our time together means almost as much to her as it does to me. But I heard it in her voice—the hesitancy mixed with the hopefulness.

  Or maybe that was the sound of my voice.

  Either way, I’m just a guy, standing here in front of a closed door, hoping the girl I let go finds her way back to me. Preferably before I’m forced to resort to clubbing her over the head and dragging her off to my cave until she comes to her senses. If not, four or five years as my cave guest should do it.

  The door opens, and the most beautiful girl in the world smiles up at me. She sticks her right leg out to show off her boots. “Are these good enough? They’re both comfy and warm.”

  “Those are perfect. Are you ready to head out now?”

  She picks up a small bag from the foyer table, pulls the strap over her head, and drapes it across her body. “I am now.”

  After she locks the door behind her, she starts walking toward my truck. “Are you not going to tell anyone you’re leaving?”

  “They’re already gone. Mom is at Gran’s again. Amelia went in to work with Dad, but they didn’t need me. Dad is only seeing patients half a day today, and they’re discharging the animals that had surgery recently during the last part of the day.”

  “So no one would notice if I just decided to kidnap you and keep you all to myself?”

  She stops walking and looks over her shoulder at me with a sly smile on her face and in her eyes. “Oh, they’d notice, all right. And they’d probably pay you to keep me.”

  “That sounds like a win-win to me. Getting paid for keeping you all to myself and making you my personal love slave? I’ll take that combination any day.”

  “You’ll get tired of me and want to get rid of me in no time. Trust me.”

  After we climb into the truck, I wait to start the engine until she looks over at me. “I’ve known you most of your life, Mallory. I haven’t gotten tired of you yet. I think it’s safe to say I never will.”

  Her face falls a little before she catches herself. “Let’s just try getting through one day first and see how you do with that.”

  A simple nod is my only reply before starting the truck and our day together. The sidewalks in town are full of people doing last-minute shopping, picking up a few more stocking stuffers and extra food before the big day arrives. “Have you finished your Christmas shopping?”

  Small talk always helps break the ice. Right?

  “Actually, I finished earlier than normal this year. I’m usually one of these people, picking through whatever’s left over because I couldn’t make my mind up earlier in the season. Have you?”

  “Yep—no shopping for us today. I have other plans.”

  “What do your plans include? You didn’t give me any clues other than comfy and warm boots.”

  “That’s all the clues you need right now. You’ll see soon enough.”

  Our idle chat carries on until we nearly reach our destination. That’s when she suddenly stops talking and takes notice of where we are—and where we’re headed. I turn into my driveway and flaunt my sly smile in her direction. “Thought we’d have some fun away from the crowds today.”

  “Sounds good to me. I’ve dealt with enough people in the clinic this week to last a lifetime. The whole town brought their pets in before the holidays hit.”

  “A day with no social interaction is just what the veterinarian ordered, then. Let’s have some fun.”

  Her eyes are fixed on our surroundings when I slip out of the truck and walk around to open her door. With her hand in mine, I help her out and lace our fingers together, keeping the connection intact while we walk toward the barn.

  “Hunter, this place is beautiful. The old horse farm I remember was barely kept up. You must’ve worked day and night on everything—the fence, the barn, and even the driveway.” She turns to look around, still holding on to my hand, before looking at me. “This really is an amazing place now. I’m so proud of you.”

  “Come on. Let me show you around.”

  We walk through the barn first. The outside is large but unpretentious, not giving away the secrets held inside. The long, wide corridor is lined with offices and stalls. The entire inside is tongue-in-groove wood slats, stained in a rich English Walnut shade. When I first started my business, I considered doing everything out of one barn. Having loads of strangers at my place on a daily basis quickly changed my mind about that idea.

  Today, I’m infinitely thankful for our privacy. The constant hustle and bustle of a busy working barn doesn’t exactly create a romantic atmosphere for rekindling old flames. But our seclusion today gives Mallory a chance to remember every little thing about us. Like how we spent so much time on horseback, scoping out the mountain trails and looking for places to blaze new ones. The horses hear us and poke their heads out, looking for food and attention. Good thing Mallory is willing to provide that to them in spades.

  “Is my favorite horse here?” She lovingly strokes the first one she rushed to, grabbing a handful of grain on her way to hand-feed him.

  Her horse is a black Tennessee Walker named Jet. He was the one she rode every time we went out on the trail. Every weekend, we rode the same path and cut the trail that leads off this property now and up to Santa’s Village.

  “He sure is, and he’s waiting for you.”

  Her head jerks up, and her jaw drops open. “Where?”

  She quickly scans the other half-doors until she sees his head emerge from inside the stall. She moves swiftly to greet him, slowing only enough not to scare him with her sudden movements. With a soft voice, she speaks to him, calling him by his name until she’s sure he remembers her. She reaches up to rub him behind his ear, and he lowers his head until his jaw rests on her shoulder.

  Just like old times.

  Her other arm moves up to his neck until they’re embraced in a full hug. Jet knows her, without a doubt, and is just as happy to be with her again as she is to see him. I step behind her and rub his muzzle as I say hello.

  “Hey, Jet. Looks like your girl is home. You’ve missed her, haven’t you, buddy? You look happy to have her back again.”

  “He didn’t miss me. He didn’t even know I was gone.”

  “The hell he did
n’t. He looked for you every time he saw me. He’d run the fence line, neighing loudly, calling for you. He finally gave up after a while of not finding you.”

  “I’m sorry I left you, Jet. I’ve missed you too, buddy. More than I even realized.” She turns her face toward me, and I see tears glistening in her eyes. “You don’t fight fair.”

  “No such thing as a fair fight, babe. And when the stakes are this high, I’ll do whatever I have to do to win.”

  “To win what?”

  “You, of course. Everything I do is for you. Always has been. Always will be.”

  “Hunter, you make it damn near impossible to stay mad at you.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear that. Now, are you ready to saddle him up and go for a ride in the snow?”

  “Absolutely. I’m ready to go right now.”

  She leads Jet out of his stall and finds his gear in the tack room. I watch her as I get my horse ready. She takes her time grooming him first, talking to him, and stroking his thick winter coat with her fingers. When we’re finished with the last pieces, I help her up onto his back before we ride toward the trail.

  They move as one unit, their movements synchronized and fluid. Her broad smile says more than her words could convey. She’s truly happy for the first time since she’s been home. The reason why she lost that spark is all my fault. If only I’d found another way out of our predicament. But no good comes from dwelling on what went wrong in the past. All I can do is rectify those mistakes in the present.

  “He’s just as smooth as I remember. Who’s been riding my horse to keep him in shape?” The challenge in her tone makes me smile.

  “Mostly me. Chad rides him too. Sometimes, the other trail guides will take him out for a spin. He’s not really a beginner’s horse, so none of the guests ride him.”

  “Good. I don’t like other people riding my horse.”

  “Fine by me. As long as you come back and ride him yourself every week.” She doesn’t agree, but then, she doesn’t disagree either. I’m counting that as progress.

  Halfway up the trail, we stop to give the horses a break while we explore on foot. She stops a few paces ahead of me and stoops down to examine something on the ground.

  “What’d you find?”

  Before I know what hits me, she’s cackling and running to hide behind a tree. I dry off my face from the snowball she just pegged me with, then scoop up a handful of my own. Another one zings past my face before I find shelter, and her laughter carries on the mountain breeze all around me. It’s the sweetest sound I’ve heard in forever. Or, technically, the past several years.

  We exchange trash talk as the snowballs hurtle past, sometimes connecting but mostly just barely missing the target. We move through the trees stealthily, using them as shields and hiding spots as we try to get closer to the other. Never mind that her constant giggling gives away her position—it’s the thrill of the chase that we’re enjoying the most.

  While she’s busy making an arsenal, I steal up behind her and wait for her to realize I’m there. When she finally senses me standing close to her, she shrieks loudly then laughs even harder. She tries to stand to run away, but her hands are full of snowballs she doesn’t want to crush, so she stumbles a few steps. I use her imbalance to my advantage and tackle her to the ground, caging her in my arms to soften the landing.

  One minute, we’re laughing and play-fighting, trying to smear snow in each other’s faces and shove handfuls into each other’s shirts. The next minute, our lips are locked in a heated kiss and the rest of the world has ceased to exist. Her gloved hands slide across my scalp. Her fingers grip my hair, tugging lightly when our kiss deepens. Every taste of her drives me to need more—like a constant craving flowing through my veins. The velvety feel of her tongue gliding against mine is its own aphrodisiac, never quite giving me enough to quench my thirst.

  It’s strange how a kiss answers a million questions with only one word. Mallory. She’s everything I need. All that I want. And the only woman I love—have ever loved and will ever love. Without a doubt, I will never be completely happy or feel whole without her by my side. I’ve always known no one else could take her place in my life and my heart. This kiss simply seals my fate—it’s her or no one for me.

  Somewhere in the back of my mind, a realization that she’s still lying on her back in the snow brings me out of my Mallory-induced oblivion long enough to break the kiss. When I pull away and look into her eyes, I see my own emotions mirrored in her gaze. Knowing my Mallory, she’ll fight this feeling when she comes to her senses. She’ll try to put us back in a little box, pushing it into the back of her mind. Out of sight, out of mind.

  What I need is a plan to ensure she doesn’t run away from me again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Mallory

  My toes are still tingling after that kiss.

  Hunter helps me back up on Jet, and we ride the rest of the way up the mountain. When we reach the sleigh trail from the other night, I realize exactly where we are. “Oh my God, Hunter! You didn’t tell me our old trail leads to Santa’s Village. Do you use this trail for your guided rides too?”

  “Not exactly. It does join with it just down the trail a little way, though.”

  When we reach the barn at the end of the trail, we get off and lead the horses inside. After we take the saddles off and put the horses in their stalls, we walk toward Santa’s Workshop to get a cup of hot coffee. When Hunter doesn’t reach for my hand right away, I sense something missing—as if it’s a part of me. So I reach over and take his hand first, and that sense of wholeness I crave is instantly fulfilled.

  He looks down at our hands then meets my stare, not even trying to hide his sexy little smirk. “Don’t think I’ll put out just because I kissed you. I mean, it was a great kiss. But you’ll have to work a little harder if you want in my pants.”

  At first, I’m so shocked by his sarcastic jab I can’t even think of a good comeback line. I openly gawk at him—and I mean a wide-open gawk. My eyes refuse to blink. My mouth refuses to shut. My brain can’t think of a single witty retort. Then the hilarity of it hits me all at once, and I bend at the waist in a fit of laughter. My arm goes to my stomach, holding it as I laugh, the muscles tightening with each outburst.

  After a minute, I can’t catch my breath and can envision myself in an episode of That ’70s Show, when they’re in the basement laughing uncontrollably as they pass the joint around. Tears roll down my cheek and I try to wipe them away, but they’re quickly replaced by more. When I look up at Hunter, the most amused expression covers his face—along with a little bit of embarrassment because now everyone is looking at us. That combination only makes me laugh harder. When I finally bring myself back under control, I wipe the final tears away and grin up at him. “That was the funniest shit I’ve heard in a long time.”

  “I’m glad you find my virtue so amusing.”

  “Oh, it’s not your virtue I find funny, Santa. It’s that you said you wouldn’t put out like you really meant it. Maybe you forgot, but I already know better than to think you’re innocent. You’re the one who taught me how to be naughty.” I giggle to myself as we continue walking hand in hand.

  He stops me with a quick jerk of my hand, making me simultaneously turn toward him and stumble into his hard chest. His other arm wraps around my waist, pulling me firmly against him. Those chocolate-brown-with-flecks-of-gold eyes bore into mine, and I feel him touching me all the way down to my soul. “Trust me, babe. That is one thing I’ll never forget. Don’t tell anyone or you’ll ruin my good reputation, but you just say the word, and we’ll check off every item on that Naughty List tonight.”

  It’s suddenly scorching hot in Santa’s Village…and the outside temperature has nothing to do with the heat level. I’m a little weak in the knees too. Butterflies flutter in my stomach. My heart races. My mouth is dry. My chest heaves with each deep breath.

  I really want to say yes. Right now.

  “If
you don’t quit looking at me like that, Chief Land will arrest us both any second now. We’ll be in the Cringle Cove Busted paper—with side-by-side mug shots.”

  “Give me a second. Right now, I’m thinking it’ll be worth it. I’m waiting to see if my brain starts working again, though.”

  “There’s my Mallory. Welcome back.” He releases his hold on me and takes a step backward, putting some space between us before we embarrass ourselves.

  “Coffee?” Change the subject. Change the subject. Change the subject.

  “Come on, you little jezebel. I’ll buy you a white chocolate mocha and the biggest cinnamon roll they have.”

  “You had me at jezebel.”

  His rich, manly chuckle carries on the chilly air, and he releases my hand, wrapping his arm around me instead. This all feels like old times…like we’ve never been apart…like we were always supposed to be together.

  But if that were true, we wouldn’t have broken up nearly four years ago. If he can make me feel so loved, so cherished within a few hours of spending time together, why did I feel so unlovable when he broke my heart?

  What’s wrong with me?

  “You’re overthinking it.” He glances over at me, no hint of a smile or playfulness.

  “What did you say?”

  “I said, you’re overthinking it. Again. Like you always do. Just chill out. Let everything happen the way it’s supposed to, and don’t try to overanalyze every minute detail in that gorgeous brain of yours.”

  Don’t overthink it. Don’t analyze it. Just let it happen. Does that mean we’re just a fling now? Maybe a romp in the sheets for old times’ sake before we go our separate ways again?

  “Mallory, there’s smoke coming out of your ears from the gears turning so fast. Slow it down. Let’s enjoy our drinks and our company, then we’ll decide the next thing on our to-do list for the day.”

  “All right. I am officially relaxing now.”