Kissing Santa Claus
Page 11
Holly stared into his eyes and knew this was a man she could spend the rest of her life falling in love with. “Sean Gallagher…how in the world did I get so lucky?”
He laughed. “I’m really glad you see it that way.”
“I really, really see it that way.”
He was still smiling but looked more closely into her eyes. That was another thing she was coming to love about him. He didn’t miss much. Which could prove to be a problem, she supposed, when she’d rather remain more enigmatic about something…but she wouldn’t trade it.
“What else is going on behind those beautiful browns?” he asked. “You look…”
“Happy? Excited? A bit terrified?”
“Uh…yeah, actually. Is it about the shop?”
She nodded. “And you. And me. And my future.” She looked directly into his eyes. “Here in Virginia.”
He went still. She swore, in fact, that she felt his heart stop. The hope that sprang to his eyes, no matter how much he might be trying to restrain it, was all she needed to see. This was as huge, as important, to him, as it was to her.
“Virginia?” he asked.
She nodded. “Mrs. Gillespie dropped her lease proposal off with me today. She wants to lease the first and second floors of the building, but she wants me to retain the third floor. And use it as an art studio. Then sell my paintings and artwork on commission through her antique and collectibles store.”
Sean’s eyes went wide. “That’s…brilliant, actually.”
“I know, right?” Holly jumped up and down a little, unable, any longer, to keep her excitement under control. “It’s terrifying as hell…and yes, brilliant. And…I really think I’m going to do it! It feels really, really right.”
Sean laughed and stood up and spun her around. She was starting to like that about him. A lot.
“Do you have a little more time?” she asked, “before you need to go back?”
“I brought dinner for two; I thought I’d eat with you. Then yes, I do have to go back, but Holly, we’re going to celebrate, in style, I promise. I just have to—”
“Take me for a ride? Right now? We can eat our stew in the truck.”
He tilted his head, but his eyes were dancing. “Okay. Where are we going?”
“Christmas lights.”
“You want to do the tour again?”
She shook her head. “I want to go buy some.”
His grin was slow and devastatingly sexy. “Really.”
“Yes, really. I was thinking on the bushes and the trees on either side of the front stoop.”
His forehead wrinkled. “The shop doesn’t have—” Then his expression cleared. “You mean…?”
“You’re the Christmas spirit guy. I’m thinking your place could use a little holiday twinkle. And maybe a little practice in holiday spirit wouldn’t kill me.”
His expression softened and he let her slide down his body until she was sheltered in his arms. “I think maybe we need a lifetime of practice.” He leaned his head in and kissed her. “Merry Christmas, Holly Berry. Welcome home.”
She smiled against his mouth and thought she’d finally figured out what was so magical about this time of year after all. “Ho ho ho,” she murmured. Then kissed her very own personal Santa Claus. Best Christmas present ever.
Epilogue
Trevor Hamilton held the door to Gallagher’s open for Emma, then followed her in.
“Lovely place,” Emma said. “I don’t think I ever got over to Willow Creek when I lived up here.”
“I haven’t been here since I was a lot younger. Pretty cool little Civil War town.”
Trevor felt his wife’s hand in his and squeezed. He was still a little bit wary about today’s meeting, but was admittedly excited to finally have the chance to learn the rest of the story. He’d discovered the secret that Lionel had been hiding all along…and it had nothing to do with his personal heritage. He was, in fact, a Hamilton, through and through. He’d yet to really decide if that changed anything inside of him. It didn’t feel that way. When he’d decided, four years ago, almost to the day, when he’d met Emma out at Lionel’s big mountain mansion, that he really didn’t need to know where he’d come from, that it was where he was going that was important…that hadn’t changed in the years that had passed.
But he’d loved his great-aunt Tru more than anything, and if she truly had a descendant…Hamilton or Haversham, well, that mattered to him. He might have decided he didn’t want the burden and expectations that went along with taking on any aspect of his family’s empire, including all the wealth attached to it…but that didn’t mean someone else, someone who rightfully had claim to some part of it, would do the same. So, for Trudy’s sake, and that of her possible heir, he’d do whatever was necessary to see that person had the chance to make that decision.
A big man with thick dark hair, a ready smile, and twinkling blue eyes met them as they entered the dining area. It was early, before hours, so they were the only ones inside the restaurant.
“Sean Gallagher,” the man said, extending his big hand for a quick shake. “I’m really glad you two could make the time for this.”
Trevor smiled. “I would have made time, but it worked out well.”
“How is your great-uncle?” This came from a tiny brunette, who appeared out from behind the restaurant’s owner. “Hi, I’m Holly Bennett.”
Trevor shook her hand. “He’s not doing all that well, but at his age, it’s to be expected. Thank you for asking.”
Sean gestured to a table where coffee was waiting, along with a few loaves of homemade bread, along with butter and a variety of jams. “Why don’t we have a seat, make ourselves comfortable.”
It was hard not to be. Sean had created a warm, very inviting atmosphere here. He pulled out Emma’s chair, then seated himself next to her. “Actually, I wanted to talk to you about Lionel,” he said once they were all settled. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about all of this. And I’m not sure how he’d take the news. On the one hand, he cherished his wife, and I’d like to think that he’d want to know that she’d had a son. That she’d left something of herself behind. On the other hand, I won’t lie. He’s a greedy, selfish, controlling old man. Was even as a young man. And I’m not entirely sure he’d like knowing that anyone else had a claim on her, on him, or anything else. No matter why or how they’d come to be on this earth.”
“What are you proposing then?” Sean asked.
Trevor sighed and raked his hand through his hair. Emma rubbed his knee and he took the comfort he always did in her steady reassurance. “I saw him yesterday. He’s still of sound mind, at least as sound as it’s always been, but his patience for things, for people, for life in general, has deteriorated badly. He’s…never been an easy man. But now—”
“He’s almost impossible,” Emma put in. She squeezed his knee. “Sorry,” she said to him, then looked at Sean and Holly. “But it’s true. He’s a miserable, crotchety old man, who is very frustrated by the limitations his age and illness have placed on him. It’s not dignified and he’s all about retaining his dignity. I think…” She trailed off, glanced at Trevor, then back at them and said, “To be honest, the only thing that has ever made him feel vulnerable in his life, I think, was his wife. Trudy. And maybe now that he is where he is…I think he’s ready to be done with this, to…I guess, join her again, if you know what I mean. I think he’s scared, too, at least a little.”
“So…do we tell him?” Holly asked.
Trevor and Emma looked at each other for a long moment, then clasped hands on top of the table. “We think he’s quite capable of being punitive and punishing to your relative. To Trudy’s great-grandson,” Trevor said. “Who knows what he’d do.”
“But we really don’t think it’s our place to make that decision for him. We think he should know.”
“And…if he decides to pull some legal maneuver, denying Thomas his rightful due, whatever that might be?”
&
nbsp; Another glance between them, then, “Then I’ll make it right with my own slice of the pie. I haven’t touched my trust fund. My own personal thing, but other than provide for the security of any children Emma and I might have…I have no plans to use it to further my own goals. So…if Lionel doesn’t do right, I will.”
Sean and Holly looked a bit stunned at the announcement, and he couldn’t blame them. It hadn’t taken the four of them very long to track down Trudy’s heir. So this was all rather an emotional whirlwind, still. In fact, a Gallagher had adopted Trudy’s son. Tess and Frank Gallagher were aunt and uncle to Sean’s own grandmother. Neither were still alive, and neither was Trudy’s son, having died of a heart attack over a decade before. But he’d married and had a son himself. Thomas. Who’d grown up in Willow Creek but had gone back to Ireland, to work for the family over there, overseeing some of the farmlands. He was in his midthirties now, single, with no heirs of his own.
Sean had opted not to contact him until he’d spoken to Trevor and worked out exactly how things would proceed. He wasn’t going to drag Thomas halfway around the world until he had a better idea of what he’d be dragging him into. Trevor seconded that plan.
“I’ll be happy to meet with him myself, go with him to see Lionel, if that’s what he wants to do.”
“If Lionel will see him,” Emma put in.
“He’ll see him,” Trevor put in. He and his great uncle had never had a smooth relationship, but he was at a point in his own life where he wasn’t so easily pushed around. “He doesn’t have to like it, and he might reject it, but if Thomas wants to meet him, we’ll make it happen.”
Sean put his hand out and Trevor took it, shook it, then nodded. “I’ll talk with Lionel. You talk with Thomas.”
“Ultimately, it will be up to him what he wants to do with all this,” Sean said. “He might reject the whole thing. I don’t know him, but the family here who does says he’s definitely his own man, with his own ideas about how things should be.”
Holly grinned. “Gee, I can’t imagine where he gets that from.”
Trevor laughed. “Yeah, well, he’s got it from the Haversham side, too, don’t be fooled.”
“Poor lad, then,” Sean said with a laugh. “And here I was, envying him a wee bit.”
“I wouldn’t be so fast with that. But this could definitely change his life.”
They finished their meeting, enjoyed coffee and a bit more chat, then Trevor and Emma finally said their good-byes. “We’ll have to come back as customers,” Emma said. “It all smells delicious in here.”
Trevor nodded. “I’ll be in touch after talking with Lionel.”
After a few more pleasantries, the couple left and Sean pulled Holly next to his side. “So many changes. Quite the holiday season.”
“I wonder how Thomas will take the news,” Holly said.
Sean shrugged. “It’ll be interesting, that’s for sure.”
Holly leaned into him. “What would you do with life changing news like that?”
He turned and pulled her into his arms. “I’d grab it and make it my own.”
“You do that pretty well, come to think of it,” she said, giggling a little when he lifted her off her feet and planted one on her.
“There’s something else I hope I’ve done well,” he said. “Come here.” He took her hand and led her through the restaurant toward the kitchen.
“Sean, don’t you have like a million things to do? All this stuff with Thomas has taken so much time and I know tomorrow is Christmas Eve and you all have a full house, so—”
“So, none of that means anything right this very second. Come here.” He paused outside the doors to the kitchen. “I really wanted to do this tomorrow, but I didn’t want to share it with anyone but family. And you are family now, Holly, you know that.”
“I…you’re all like a miracle to me,” she said, never more sincere. “I can’t believe how easily you all have accepted me and pulled me in. I thought I’d be more freaked out…but it’s like—”
“Home?”
She nodded. “Getting that way.”
“I’m really glad you think so.” He leaned in and kissed her long, and slow, and deep, then lifted his head and whispered, “Happy birthday.” Then he pushed the kitchen door open, and every single member of the Gallagher clan shouted, “Happy birthday!” and launched into the rowdiest version of the song Holly had ever heard.
She stood there, stunned. “But—”
“It’s your birthday,” he said. “It’s your day. We’re just starting a little early.”
He ushered her into the kitchen and she was immediately enveloped by Gallaghers young and old, all smiling and welcoming her with laughs, smiles, and open arms. Sean was right, it wasn’t about blood lines and where you thought you fit in…it was about creating your own family, your own right place.
She’d definitely, finally, done that.
Bah, Handsome!
JILL SHALVIS
1
Outside the weather was as the song went—frightful. Inside, Hope O’Brien looked down at the huge box of Christmas decorations she’d dug out of the cellar of her bed-and-breakfast inn and thought maybe this would be the year that Santa brought her something she needed. Money to meet her bills for the month would be nice, or lacking that, maybe an orgasm.
Yeah, now that would be real nice.
Smiling at the thought, she pulled out some brightly colored balls and ribbons and—
“Mistletoe!” Lori snatched up the dried sprig, and held it to her chest like it was a bar of gold.
Hope slid her best friend a look as wind continued to batter the small B&B around them. “You’ve been married six months and still drag Ben into the closet whenever you see him. What could you possibly need with mistletoe?”
Lori, also the support staff for the inn, waggled a brow. “It’s for you.”
“You want to kiss me? Well, why didn’t you just say so.” Hope leaned in and puckered up. “Give me your best shot.”
Laughing, Lori shoved her away. “I don’t want to kiss you. I want someone else to kiss you. A penis-carrying someone.”
“Yeah.” Hope sighed. “I think that ship’s sailed.”
“Honey, you’re twenty-nine. That ship has not sailed. You’re just being a pansy-ass because your last boyfriend stole all your money and ruined your credit before going to jail, forcing you to go begging from your asshole rich stepbrother.”
“Gee, thanks for the recap.”
“And you’re probably also still feeling the effects from your boyfriend before that, the one who stole your self-confidence. What was his name? Dickwad?”
“Derek,” she murmured. Derek the Dickwad. “And you wonder why I say my ship has sailed. Clearly I can’t trust my own judgment.”
Lori’s eyes softened, and she leaned over to squeeze Hope’s hand. “That’s because you don’t trust your heart. Look, you’re pragmatic and tough—you’ve had to be. But let’s face facts. You have a type, and that’s the badasses. Joey, Dickwad…”
True. Hope had always been a sucker for the bad boy. Someone had once told her it was from growing up without a father figure, but she didn’t believe in letting circumstance mold her. She was a “be responsible for your own destiny” sort of woman.
Lori twirled the mistletoe in her fingers. “Did you know if you wish on this stuff, it’ll come true.”
“Yes, and maybe Santa’s reindeers will sprinkle magic dust over all the land and make us rich.”
Lori gave her the puppy dog eyes. “Are you really going to suck all the spirit out of the holiday?”
Hope rolled her eyes, but then shook her head. “No.”
“Then wish, dammit.”
“Fine.” Hope snatched the mistletoe and closed her eyes. “I wish that the DA would shake my money out of Joey so I can pay back my brother before he calls the loan that’s due on January first, which is in…” She mentally calculated. Oh, God. “Twenty-one days.”
“Okay, you’re right. Let’s try this.” Hope paused, the only sound being the vicious storm currently rattling the windows. “I wish for someone to hang up all the Christmas decorations for me. And…clear them up after Christmas.”
Lori’s eyes were censoring. “Stop thinking of the B&B first, think of you. You, Hope. Wish for…sex. Yeah, now there’s something you could use. How long has it been anyway, six months?”
Six months sounded pathetic, but the truth was even more so. She lifted a shoulder.
“Eight months?”
Fourteen, but who was counting? Oh, wait. She was. She was counting.
“Give me that.” Lori grabbed the sprig back, once again pressing it to her heart and closing her eyes. In sweet earnest, she said, “Hope’s too busy and stressed to think of herself so I’m doing it for her. I wish for a penis for her. One that’s attached to a man who knows how to use it.”
“It’s no use.” Hope shook her head even as she laughed. “I’m done with badasses, penises and all.”
“A really good man,” Lori went on, eyes still closed. “Not a badass, but a kind, gentle soul—but good in bed. I can’t stress that enough.”
“That’s funny.”
Lori opened her eyes and reached into her pocket, from which she pulled out a string of four condoms. “Merry early Christmas.”
“You are not serious.”
Lori merely stuffed them into Hope’s jean pocket.
Hope laughed again, then raised a brow when someone knocked on the front door of the B&B. Though it was only six in the evening, it was pitch-black, with the snowstorm still raging out there. “Huh.”
“Maybe it’s him,” Lori whispered.
“Him who?”
“The man I just wished for you, the one with the kind, gentle soul. And the penis he knows how to use.”