The Mistletoe Effect

by Melissa Cutler

  She chewed on her lower lip for a beat, then met his gaze. “No. In a perfect world, I’d be a wedding dress designer full-time. But—”

  “You and your buts again.” He regretted interrupting her to say that because she stomped toward the bedroom, clearly frustrated. Well, he was frustrated, too, because, damn it, she wasn’t standing up for herself and what she wanted, as usual.

  “Carina. I’m sorry. I just … You let your family walk all over you. Always have.” From the doorway, he watched her shove toiletries, underwear, and what looked like panty hose into a black leather overnight bag.

  “What about you? Is being a stable manager your dream job? You’ve been here more than nine years, so you must love working for my dad, with our paltry stable of—what—fifteen or twenty horses, am I right?”

  “No, I thought I’d be here four years, five tops, but unlike you, I’m doing something about it. Soon, with any luck.”

  She stopped mid-zip of the bag and looked at him. “What does that mean? You’re quitting? To do what?”

  Why did he feel like an asshole, telling her he was leaving the resort and moving on to greener pastures? He’d been planning the job change for years, and it wasn’t like she was his direct boss or his girlfriend or something. Sure, they were spending the month together, but they never promised each other more than that, romantically.

  “I got a job offer to be a foreman and horse trainer at a large stable on the outskirts of Fort Worth, but I haven’t told your father yet.”

  That implied request for her to stay quiet about it, too, didn’t feel right. And Decker flat out refused to tell her that the job depended on Ty’s blessing. Her smarts combined with her shaky, underdeveloped confidence might put the notion in her head that Decker had agreed to their sham marriage in order to get in good with her father, but his only consideration when he’d made the deal was the promise of getting under Carina’s dress. Repeatedly.

  After a slow swallow, she forced a smile. “Good. You’ll be great at it. The resort will miss you.”

  He stepped closer to her and smoothed his fingertips up her arm. “There are things I’ll miss about being here, too.”

  Nuzzling her forehead against his chin, she whispered, “Don’t do that.”

  He slid his hand up her ribs and settled it on her breast. “Do this?”

  “No. Whisper sweet nothings about missing me. If you’re moving to Fort Worth next month, then let’s just agree to let this month be what it is and part as friends. As much as you want me to be honest with you about what I want, then you need to do the same.”

  She was right, except what he wanted was getting all jumbled up. Nine years of knowing he was destined for more than Briscoe Ranch Resort could offer was warring with the connection with Carina he felt building strength. Fort Worth was only a four-hour drive, which didn’t mean a relationship with her was out of the question, but it wasn’t realistic. Given the hours he’d be working and the hours Carina worked, their opportunities to see each other would be few and far between.

  “It wasn’t a sweet nothing. I will miss you. I’ll miss catching glimpses of you jogging across the resort grounds, your cell phone at your ear and a clipboard tucked under your arm. And I’ll definitely miss catching glimpses of you sunbathing.”

  Her eyes widened at that.

  “The Bohdie Falls trail has the best views, is all I’m sayin’.”

  She gave him a gentle shove of admonishment. “You’ve been watching me?”

  “You make me sound like a stalker. It wasn’t like I whipped out my camo clothes and binoculars or something.”

  She gave him another light shove, which he countered with a kiss.

  “Hey, seriously,” she said afterward. “Promise me you’ll be honest with me, too.”

  “I promise. We’ll take this month for what it is and have some fun playing along with Granny June’s plans. I wish it didn’t have to go down like this, with me leaving next month, but I can’t go back in time and fix my mistake of not getting you alone years ago.”

  Her sexy smile spoke volumes as she scraped her nails lightly over his neck. “That was a terrible mistake.”

  “Question—where are your Christmas decorations? I haven’t gotten mine up yet, but it’s only December second. I would’ve thought you of all people would’ve had them up by the day after Thanksgiving.”

  “The decorations around the resort provide all the Christmas spirit I can handle.”

  Her words from last night came back to him. Christmas is complicated. “What is it with you and Christmas?”

  She didn’t answer him right away, but the same weariness that she’d had last night when he’d brought it up settled on her face once more. “Let’s get back on the trail to your place. I’ll tell you on the way.”

  As they passed through her living room, he caught her eying the wedding dress. “My place has a spare room that I’ve never made great use of, if you’d like to bring over your sewing gear and the dress tomorrow.”

  She seemed genuinely touched by the gesture, which confirmed in his mind how important sewing was to her. Hobby, my ass. Right then and there, he knew what he had to do. Just as he was finally going after his own dream career, he vowed to do all he could to help Carina gain the confidence to go after hers.

  Outside, Snowflake and Dasher were taking it easy, watching the world with the quiet patience of horses who’d been waiting around for humans all their lives. Decker took Carina’s bag from her and helped her onto Snowflake, then mounted Dasher and scratched the horse behind the ear while he waited for Carina to get settled and ready to ride again. Yeah, there was a lot he was going to miss about this place. Carina, of course, but Dasher, too, along with the rest of the stable of horses that his world revolved around.

  He waited to broach the subject of Christmas until they’d settled back into a rhythm while headed south on the riding trail that skirted the edges of the property and led to his house on the opposite corner from the Briscoe compound. Though he was loathe to put that weary look on her face again, he was too curious about Carina and what made her tick to drop the subject. “All right, I promise this is the last time we have to talk about it, but I need to know. Why is Christmas complicated?”

  She stifled a groan but couldn’t hold back a grimace. “The season as a whole or December twenty-fifth, specifically?”

  “Both.”

  “Well, to start with, people want to get married on Christmas. Every year it’s the same thing. We only allow two weddings each year on December twenty-fifth, and it’s considered by some locals to be the most magical day to get married. Extra Mistletoe power, or something like that.”

  “I guess I knew that. Though since horse-drawn carriage rides aren’t offered as bridal party options for Christmas Day weddings, I guess it’s easy to forget that the rest of the resort staff is working.”

  “That can’t be helped. For the resort employees who do have to work that day, we encourage people to volunteer by paying triple overtime. A lot of people need that money more than they need the day off, even for Christmas, but we try to give as many employees the day off work as possible, including the grounds and stable workers.”

  “Which means you work extra hard.”

  “Not just me. My father does, too.” Decker didn’t bother to ask about her mother. Everyone at the resort knew of Eloise’s preference for spas, yoga retreats, and jetting off to charity galas all over the country instead of rolling up her designer sleeves and pitching in around the resort. Decker’s theory was that Ty’s attraction to his wife had as much to do with the fact that she didn’t challenge him and stayed out of his hair as her trophy-wife good looks.

  “This year we’re working harder than ever because I refuse to let Alex work on his babies’ first Christmas,” Carina said. “Plus, even though Haylie called me with a cryptic message this morning that she’s okay, she won’t commit to when she’s coming home, so I can’t count on her help. Not that she’s usually
very handy to have around, but she steps it up pretty good on holidays.”

  “So, when does your family celebrate Christmas? Like, with presents and Christmas dinner and all that?” Decker asked.

  “We don’t.”

  He couldn’t help it; he gaped at her. “Are you kidding? The Briscoe family, the Christmas experts around these parts, don’t actually celebrate it?”

  “Hard work is the kingpin of our family, always has been. And this is our big money month. Our weddings sustain three generations of Briscoes and hundreds of employees and their families. By the time December twenty-sixth rolls around, all I want to do is sleep.”

  “You’re right. Christmas is complicated.”

  She flashed him a tired smile. “Complicated and not very magical, but every year I’m proud of all the couples I help have the wedding of their dreams. I know you think I’m my family’s martyr and totally put upon, but I really do love what I do. There’s a lot of satisfaction that comes with doing my job well and feeling like I get better at it with each wedding or special event I organize.”

  “So Halloween is the holiday that still has magic for you?”

  Before she said another word, he could see her answer in the light of her eyes, in her smile. “Yes. Halloween is my last full day off before the holiday season, so I turn it into my own personal Mardi Gras. One of my college friends in San Antonio builds a haunted house in her backyard. I get to be one of the ghouls. I love it.”

  The light in her eyes when she talked about it had him smiling right along with her. He hadn’t given much thought to Halloween since he got too old to dress up and trick-or-treat, but she had him getting excited about the holiday all over again.

  The ride from her apartment to his house was over far too fast for his liking. He was the only employee other than the Briscoe family who lived on the resort grounds, an honor steeped in practicality, because the stable manager was responsible for the care of all the animals at the resort, day and night, as was part of his contract.

  As the story was told to him, the house had been a foreman’s residence long before Tyson Briscoe Sr. and his new bride, June, had inherited his family’s ranch after his parents’ deaths in the early 1950s. When the ranch was converted into a resort, they had the good sense to modernize the foreman’s house along with the rest of the place, and the resort’s succession of stable managers had resided there ever since.

  It was a nice enough house with two bedrooms, one bath, and a kitchen—and was small enough that Decker could clean every square inch of it during halftime of Monday night’s football game, which was a plus. But at the same time the house was big enough and far enough away from the resort’s main buildings that the moment he stepped through the door he was able to distance himself from his workday.

  “I have fond memories of this house from when I was a kid,” Carina said as their horses ambled to the front porch steps.

  “Yeah?” He dismounted, then wiped his sweaty, unsteady hands on his jeans before helping her do the same. He was anxious but wasn’t sure why. He’d entertained plenty of women at his house over the years. Never any who were moving their stuff in, but he wasn’t fazed by the deal he and Carina had made. He wasn’t a commitment-phobe and the idea of living with a woman didn’t put him out. Besides that, they’d already crossed a lot of intimate bridges, so it didn’t make sense why he was as jumpy as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

  She smiled with a dreamy, faraway expression. “I used to come here all the time with my mom and sister when Mr. Perini was the stable manager, especially after my Grandpa Ty died and Mr. Perini was nearing retirement. We brought him lemonade and cookies on Sunday afternoons.”

  “I wouldn’t have objected to you keeping up the tradition by bringing me lemonade and cookies.”

  Her attention shifted to him, her smile no longer dreamy but teasing. “By the time you were promoted to stable manager after Mr. Perini retired, an afternoon visit with lemonade and cookies wasn’t exactly what I wanted from you.”

  It wouldn’t have been what he wanted from her, either. He mounted the stairs and unlocked the door, his nerves all but gone thanks to Carina’s story. Door locking wasn’t part of hill country hospitality, but Decker had discovered that resort guests were a curious bunch and prone to bouts of exploration of every nook and cranny of the resort. After a few times of walking into his house to find out-of-towners sitting at his dining table, he’d driven to San Antonio and purchased a dead bolt.

  “Even if you had brought me lemonade and cookies, your dad would have killed me if I had invited you in.”

  Climbing the stairs to join him on the porch, she laughed. “I take it you heard how he chased Wendell off the resort after he’d caught him sneaking out of Haylie’s bedroom.”

  That wasn’t the only tale of danger Decker had heard about men who’d tried to get with Haylie over the years. “The way it was told to me by Wendell, a .22 shotgun had been involved and multiple shots fired, though Wendell always did have a fondness for embellishment.”

  “On the contrary, Wendell spoke the truth. It took some persuading from my mom and me to convince my father that the company’s lawyers might have some quibbles with threatening and shooting at employees.”

  “What’d he say to that?”

  She puffed herself up and pinched her brows, feigning toughness. “ ‘This is Texas, goddammit, and it’s my God-given right to defend my property against trespassers.’ ”

  “Tell me he was talking about the compound itself and not your sister.”

  “I was afraid to ask for clarification.”

  Shaking his head and grinning at her gallows humor, he lassoed an arm around her hips. She turned her gaze up to his, searching his expression. He wasn’t sure what she expected to find there besides lust and nerves, same as he saw in her face, so instead he dipped down and notched his lips with hers in a slow burn of a kiss. She didn’t let him get away with the PG version of the kiss for long. Before he knew it, her hands were exploring him beneath his coat and her lips were coaxing his apart.

  “You see now why I had to make this deal to get you in my house without risking life and limb?”

  “I approve of your tactics. Officially.”

  He rolled her wedding band in his fingertips. “Mrs. Decker, we already made it official.”

  It was uncanny, how fast it made his dick hard to refer to her like that, to think of the two of them as legally bound together. What man in his right mind got turned on by the idea of marital monogamy? Him, apparently. And it had a lot to do with the woman clinging to him, breathless and looking like she was ready for him to kiss her again.

  He squeezed his eyes closed and buried his nose in her hair. “I have to tend to the horses,” he croaked, wishing that weren’t true and he could sweep her into his arms and carry her through his house to his bedroom. “You go on in and get settled. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

  At that, the sexiness of the moment gave way to tense silence. Carina’s eyes darted to the open door and then the dark night. It seemed he wasn’t the only one anxious about this, their first night together in his house, because her touch changed from sensual to hesitant.

  She fiddled with the top button on his coat. “Well, we have a lot to discuss. Where am I sleeping? Which bathroom should I use? This arrangement was your idea, but I don’t want to be in the way and—”

  He cut her off with another kiss. She kissed him back, but he could tell her heart wasn’t in it. Her brain was probably too busy dreaming up a million other superfluous questions. “While I’m gone with the horses, you figure out the answers to all those questions pinging around in your head. Whatever you decide will be just fine with me. Take whatever drawers you want, closet space, whatever.”

  “Are you sure? I—”

  Running out of patience for talking, he kissed her again, his hands finding her ass and bringing her body up against his. She was such a bundle of nerves and never did end up relaxing and
giving herself over to the kiss, but that was no problem. He had the rest of the night to work out her kinks—er, nerves.

  “I only have one request,” he said. “I want to share the bed with you. Is that too much to ask?”

  “No,” she said in a breathy whisper.

  Good. That was damn good. It made his hands tremble and his throat tighten, thinking about sharing a bed with her for twenty-five straight nights. The ring on her finger, sharing a marriage bed, the title of Mrs.—why the hell was all that such a turn-on? “Is it too much to ask that when I get back home, you’ll be in that bed waiting for me?” That’d always been a fantasy of his. Coming home after a long day to find Carina Briscoe in his bed, ready to be taken.

  Her lips parted. Her fingers gripped his shirt. Maybe that had been too bold of him to suggest, but in his defense, he had promised to be honest with her and she had agreed they would live together as husband and wife. He waited for her answer, impatient and trying to hide it.

  After a stretch of silence, she smiled, sly and sexy, and his heart did a heavy da-dum in his chest. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see, once you get back from tending the horses.”

  Oh, man, he liked this woman. She waggled her eyebrows, then gave him a gentle shove toward the stairs.

  It might be taking a lot of effort to get her to show her true colors, but she was worth every bit of energy spent and then some.

  Clutching his heart in a melodramatic show at the idea that she was considering denying his request, he backed down the stairs, much to her obvious delight. He took the horses’ reins, then gave her one last look back toward his house before turning in the direction of the stable. She was still watching him, halfway in the door, that wedding band gleaming and her skin glowing golden in his porch light.

  It was at that moment that, for the first time, he got the sinking suspicion that agreeing to Carina’s plan to enjoy this month for what it was, then move on as friends, was the stupidest deal he’d ever cut.

  Chapter Six

  A week later