Love at Mistletoe Inn

by Cindy Kirk

  The older woman had appeared to be in good health at breakfast, but Hope’s expression told him something was wrong.

  “No. Not Verna.” Hope shook her head but her assurance didn’t tamp down his unease. Her voice quavered and two lines of worry sat between her brows. “Something else.”

  He took her hand, wanting to soothe her. To his surprise, she didn’t pull away. Whatever was troubling her had to be major.

  “Tell me,” John demanded.

  She glanced around the dusty work area as if searching for a place to sit.

  “We’ll go upstairs.” He tugged her to the staircase. “It’ll be more comfortable and private.”

  Hope’s protest seemed to die in her throat. He had the feeling it wasn’t the comfort part but the promise of privacy that convinced her.

  As the stairs leading to his new apartment were narrow, John followed her up the steps. A mistake, he thought. The light, sultry scent of Hope’s perfume wafted behind her. Worse yet, he had the perfect view of her backside. Her jeans hugged her curves and accentuated her long legs.

  John felt eighteen again. Though Hope remained the only woman who could make his heart beat faster simply by walking into a room, his feelings for her weren’t just physical.

  She was intelligent. She was strong-willed and that was just the beginning. He loved every part of her. When he’d left Harmony, he’d hoped the hole in his heart would fill. It hadn’t.

  He never stopped thinking of her as his wife.

  Looking back, John couldn’t believe a night that had started out so positive had gone so bad. He’d never forget the look in Hope’s eyes when he’d been forced to admit he didn’t have the extra money Buddy, the “minister,” had demanded.

  All of his extra cash had been spent on the special engraving inside Hope’s wedding band. A ring that had been on her finger less than five minutes before she’d tugged it off and told Buddy she’d changed her mind.

  The gesture had crushed him. But that was the past. He was home and determined to capture her heart.

  Hope grabbed the knob and pushed open the door. He followed her inside.

  She moved to the middle of the living room and turned in a circle. “I still think this is the loveliest room. Verna gave me carte blanche in decorating it. I hope you don’t find it too girly.”

  Verna hadn’t mentioned Hope’s role in the renovation. Though when the older woman had shown him the space, she’d waxed poetic about everything from the overstuffed sofa upholstered in a sunny garden pattern and plaid slipper chairs in a coordinating fabric to the crown molding topping a whimsical wallpaper pattern of vines and branches. She’d pointed out how the leaves on the Tiffany accent lamp continued the theme.

  According to Verna, the rag rugs scattered on the hardwood floors coupled with several ancestral wall portraits added a homey touch and saved the room from being too perfectly coordinated.

  “Lovely isn’t a word I normally like to use.” John grinned. “But it’s a nice space. I like it.”

  The style of the furniture had a warm, comfortable feel. Wooden shutters had been pulled back, allowing the outside light to fill the room with a golden glow.

  The scent of cinnamon hovering in the air from a basket of Verna’s scented pinecones brought calm to the atmosphere. Though the frown remained, he saw Hope’s shoulders were no longer stiff.

  “May I get you something to drink?” he asked politely. “A glass of water?”

  She shook her head. “I’d like to sit down.”

  He gestured to the sofa. Instead of taking a seat in a nearby chair, he sat beside her.

  “It’s good to see you again, Hope. It’s been too long.”

  Her laugh held a nervous edge. “You were just here in May for Verna’s birthday.”

  “We didn’t have much of a chance to talk.” This wasn’t surprising considering they’d both worked to keep a distance between them since he’d left Harmony.

  Not this time.

  “There’s something we need to discuss.” Her voice cracked when he took her hand.

  Using his thumb, John rubbed slow circles in her palm. He had a good idea what she wanted to discuss. She wanted him to know that she’d moved on, that she and Chet—

  “We’re still married.”

  His thumb stilled. The words may have been softly spoken, but he’d heard them clearly. That didn’t mean he understood. “Did Buddy send in the paperwork after all?”

  “No. He kept his word.” Hope pulled her hand from his and placed it in her lap. “I confirmed this morning with the county recorder’s office that even if the license and certificate aren’t sent in, the marriage is still legal.”

  John collapsed back against the sofa. Hope was his wife? Indescribable joy rushed through him. He’d prayed for a second chance. For the opportunity to show her he could be the husband she deserved. Now, through a bureaucratic loophole and God’s providence, he’d received that chance.

  “You’re probably as upset as I am,” he heard Hope say.

  John tamped down his jubilation and schooled his features.

  Her face was bleached white, those stunning green eyes wide with worry.

  Sensing this wasn’t the time to tell her how thrilled he was, he forced a grave expression. “This is quite a surprise.”

  “I’m so angry at Buddy,” she blurted out. “He assured us if he didn’t send in those papers that it was as if the wedding had never taken place. I suppose we shouldn’t have taken the word of a college guy who’d gotten his ordination online and had only performed one wedding before ours.”

  Hope stopped and pressed her lips together as if realizing she was chattering. Taking a deep breath, she let it out slowly. “The bottom line is—we’re still married.”

  There was a beat of silence.

  He drew air slowly into his lungs. “You’re certain?”

  “Positive. The person I spoke with at the county recorder’s office said if we had the license, the minister met the qualifications in Idaho—which Buddy did—and the marriage took place, it was legal, just not on record.”

  John forced a nonchalant tone. “If we don’t say anything, who would know?” He had to bring up the option before he got too jazzed.

  “Don’t think I didn’t consider that already.” Hope gave a humorless laugh. She didn’t appear to notice when he placed his arm on the top of the sofa. “But you know how I am about rules. I can’t simply close my eyes and pretend it didn’t happen or isn’t legal just because to do so would be more convenient.”

  “You always were a stickler for following rules,” John murmured, rubbing a strand of her hair between his fingers. It was soft, like the finest silk. How long had it been since he’d touched her hair, her face, since his mouth had closed over hers?

  Hope lifted her face to his.

  His heart clenched at the tears swimming in the green depths.

  “I’m s-sorry.”

  With the tip of a finger, he gently brushed a tear that slipped down her cheek. “For what? This isn’t your fault.”

  “For me not being able to pr-pretend it didn’t happen.”

  “Ah, sweetheart,” he said softly. “If you could do that, you wouldn’t be you.”

  “But it would b-be so much easier.” Her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands.

  “It appears, my darling Hope, that you and I are married.” Tenderly he separated her hands and gazed into eyes blurred with tears. “In the sight of God and man.”

  Though he kept his tone mild, it produced more tears.

  John shifted and gathered her close. Hope was his wife.

  His heart was a sweet, heavy mass in his chest.

  As he kissed a tear on her cheek, her arms wound around his neck and he touched her lips with his.

  When her fingers slid into his hair, he folded her more fully into his arms, anchoring her against his chest as his mouth covered hers in a deep kiss. She fit perfectly against him. She always had.


  This was the woman who held his heart. Whether she wanted it or not, she had it for all eternity.

  John had always felt connected to her. He’d never forgotten the vows they’d made and the promise given. In this moment, he saw those same sentiments in her expression.

  Several hours later, Hope left John’s bed and headed downtown for an appointment she’d made after speaking with the county recorder. At Reid Mueller’s office, she received the news that her actions that morning made getting the marriage annulled impossible. The family law attorney had been adamant that even if she or John were willing to swear they were of unsound mind at the time they married, the fact that they’d slept together made divorce the only option.

  She’d known what Reid would say, but she had to hear it from his own lips. She couldn’t believe she’d been so foolish, but being in John’s arms again had brought all her buried emotions to the surface. It felt as if they’d just stood in front of the minister, had just said their vows. In one minute, all her years of denying her feelings for John had been swept away.

  Divorce.

  Filing for an annulment, effectively saying that a marriage had never taken place, was one thing. But a divorce . . .

  Every part of her being railed at the thought. Still, she wondered if it might not be better to call it quits before they ended up hating each other. As attracted as she was to John, she needed a responsible man, one who took life—and his finances—seriously.

  A sense of melancholy filled Hope. She paused at the top of the stairs leading down from the second floor of the law office on Market Street. She gripped the railing but couldn’t make herself walk back into the real world.

  If only she hadn’t kissed John back . . .

  What had happened in his apartment had been as much her fault as his. When his arms had closed around her in comfort, she hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’t wanted to pull away. She’d wanted him to hold her, to love her.

  Kissing him again had felt so natural, so right. He’d been so gentle with her, taking his time, not rushing. The experience had been worth the wait. Slipping out of his bed when he’d hopped into the shower had been hard. She’d much rather have kept him company in the steaming water.

  Hope told herself she shouldn’t feel guilty over making love to John. He was her husband. But for how much longer?

  The attorney had been blunt. If she wanted out of her marriage to John Burke, she would have to file for divorce.

  Hope straightened her shoulders. She’d get through this challenge as she had all the other trials in her life, by putting one foot in front of the other.

  She must speak with John. Her phone dinged with a text. Hope glanced down and rubbed the bridge of her nose. Chet had already called her twice today. Now he’d sent her a text while she’d been speaking with the attorney. He probably thought she was playing hard to get when the truth was, she was simply busy.

  Okay, so perhaps she was avoiding him. Though she and Chet’s relationship had never been exclusive, she did need to tell him about John. The trouble was, she wasn’t sure what to say.

  She stepped out of the building onto the sidewalk and was horrified when her stomach growled so loudly a woman walking by turned to stare. Impulsively, Hope crossed the street to All Ground Up, a popular coffee and sandwich shop.

  She’d just ordered a tuna salad to go when she saw Chet at a table by the window. By the way he and Tom were intently studying a laptop screen, it appeared to be some sort of business meeting or strategy session.

  Hope willed Chet to keep his eyes focused on the screen. She would speak with him soon, but now wasn’t the time.

  She paid the college-aged clerk and offered him a sunny smile that was at odds with her stormy insides. Taking the brown bag, Hope dropped money into the tip jar and turned toward the door. She’d almost reached it when she glanced over at Chet’s table and . . . caught his eye.

  His smile of obvious pleasure had guilt rushing through her and her feet skidding to a stop. How could she even consider walking out without speaking to the man she’d been casually dating?

  What would he think when he discovered she was married? And had slept with John? The situation reminded her of a scene from one of Verna’s favorite TV soaps.

  Hope waited for Chet to cross the dining area.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all day.” He smiled appreciatively at the conservative dark suit she’d chosen for her trip to the attorney.

  “I’ve been super busy.” She lifted the brown bag. “Then I got hungry.”

  “I saw you coming out of Reid Mueller’s office.”

  Even if she’d been tempted to evade, there was no point. “Oh, Chet.”

  “Is something wrong?” Concern deepened his voice. “Is that why you haven’t returned my calls?”

  “What’s going on is complicated.” She forced a smile but felt her lips quiver. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it. Soon. You’re busy now.”

  “Actually, Tom and I have concluded our business.” Chet took her arm firmly. “As I don’t like puzzles, I prefer you tell me now.”

  When they reached the table, Chet dismissed Tom—who didn’t appear to realize the meeting had ended—then pulled out a chair for her. It was close to 2:00 p.m. and most of the lunch crowd had already headed back to work. Their table was far enough from any of the other occupied ones to afford them some privacy.

  Perhaps it was best, Hope concluded, to simply get this out in the open. If Chet had discovered he was married, she’d expect him to tell her immediately.

  He took her hand. “Tell me what’s wrong and what I can do to help.”

  Hope sat back, the move extricating her hand from his. Like it or not, she was a married woman. As long as she was married, even such simple intimacy with another man wasn’t appropriate.

  “I’ll tell you.” She looked him in the eye. “But there’s nothing you can do.”

  “You might be surprised. We Tuttle men are expert problem solvers.”

  Hope smiled. The supreme confidence underlying his declaration came from decades of Tuttle privilege.

  As quickly and concisely as she could manage, she told Chet the story. She began with the impulsive wedding and ended with why she’d consulted with the attorney.

  Chet sat back in his chair, his blue eyes simply astonished. “You’re married?”

  “Yes.” She stared down at her hands. “At this point, staying married or getting a divorce are our only options.”

  “What about an annulment? You were so young and—”

  “We were eighteen. No parental consent required.”

  “Couldn’t you say you weren’t thinking clearly?”

  Hope’s lips twisted in a humorless smile. “That only works if the marriage has never been consummated.”

  Chet’s brows pulled together. “You said you realized your mistake right away and had him take you straight home.”

  Okay, so perhaps she hadn’t told Chet everything.

  Heat rose up her neck. She cleared her throat. “It didn’t happen that night.”

  “Ah . . .” Chet let out a long breath.

  Hope wanted to tell him she wasn’t a hypocrite. She’d meant what she’d said to him about not sleeping with a man until she was married.

  She hadn’t abandoned her morals. She hadn’t given in to her desire for John until she’d known they were married. But that piece of information seemed far too personal to share.

  “It’s a certainty we won’t be able to go out again until your divorce is final. Even then I—”

  “Ending a marriage is a serious step.” Hope found herself irritated he just assumed she’d quickly jump into a divorce.

  Shock skittered across his face. “Don’t tell me you’re thinking of staying with him? That would be crazy.”

  Hope lifted one shoulder in a casual shrug. “I’d say everything about this situation is crazy. Wouldn’t you?”

  After her stressful encounter with Chet, Hope drove home w
ith her thoughts whirling. She and John had lots to discuss.

  If she hadn’t been so reckless this morning, ending their marriage would be easy. Still, she couldn’t place the blame on John. From the first time she met him, she’d been mesmerized. She’d never experienced a similar reaction to any other man, including Chet. When she and John had gone their separate ways, Hope had tried to tell herself it was simply a chemistry thing.

  Deep down she’d known the attraction went beyond the physical. There was so much that drew her to John—his sense of humor, his intelligence, and his playfulness.

  Unfortunately, his irresponsibility and inability to take life seriously made him totally wrong for her. For most of the past ten years he’d lived a hand-to-mouth existence pursuing his dreams of an art career. Her dad had a lot of dreams too. But his disregard for financial matters had made her home life a living hell.

  Still, a divorce . . .

  Marriage was a sacred institution. Not that she’d shown much respect for that institution thus far. Choosing to be married by a college student, rather than a man of God, had been her first mistake. But certainly not her last.

  Yet, what would be the point in continuing a union that would eventually break apart anyway?

  With a heavy heart, Hope climbed the steps to the wraparound porch. Instead of going inside, she took a seat on the porch swing, hoping the sunny and unseasonably warm October day would boost her spirits.

  She closed her eyes. Dear God, please help me. I’ve made such a mess of everything.

  “Want some company?”

  Hope’s lids flew open. Though John’s lips curved upward, there was a wariness in his gaze.

  Impulsively, she patted a spot beside her on the white lacquered swing. Even if her actions in the past twenty-four hours gave no evidence of maturity, there was no reason they couldn’t handle this situation like adults. “Please. Join me.”

  John ambled to the swing, looking more attractive than any man had a right to in jeans and a white T-shirt. When he took a seat beside her and she inhaled the clean, fresh scent of him—soap, shampoo, and that indefinable male scent that was uniquely his—she was tempted to close the few inches that separated them.