The Single Dad's Holiday Match

by Tanya Agler

She jumped out of the booth and gave him a side hug. “I knew you could do it.”

  Colin blushed and extricated himself from Brooke. “Yesterday’s tryouts were intense. I almost walked out early. That coach works his players, but he’s fair and he’s good. We were finished by two.”

  “I thought tryouts ended at three?” Brooke raised an eyebrow, but Izzy and Vanessa returned, cutting off any further conversation between mother and son.

  If Colin had an unaccounted hour and if he knew about the recently installed camera, which was rather unobtrusive in a corner of the lobby, that would explain why he donned that costume. The locker room was the best hiding place for the IDs without being found at his home, and where he and his accomplice would both have easy access. And his flat black wallet with a nick at the corner resembled the one in the video footage. That was a long stretch, but it still provided enough reason to keep his distance.

  His heart broke in an instant once before.

  He wouldn’t let that happen again.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  BROOKE WAS EXHAUSTED after Mr. Whitley’s unexpected five-hour visit to the center on this Wednesday for a budget consultation. She rubbed the back of her neck and stretched. He had also grilled her about some minor decisions he’d given her the authority to make and the recent police activity.

  Someone, either here or at the precinct, delivered precise details about Jonathan’s visits. Dispelling Mr. Whitley’s concerns while remaining true to her promise to Jonathan had taken every ounce of her energy. Nothing like being put between a rock and a hard place. What would happen when Mr. Whitley found out she hadn’t been entirely truthful with him?

  She plunked the paintbrush onto one of the Mimosas’ art easels with more force than necessary. It fell to the floor, and she bent down and received a nice bump on her head for her trouble. A double ouch, as she wasn’t sure Mr. Whitley would understand her motives for keeping Jonathan’s mission a secret.

  Tina rushed over, seemingly out of nowhere. “Is your head okay? That sounded awful.”

  Great. The first Mimosa on the scene this evening would have to be Jonathan’s aunt. Since sharing breakfast with Jonathan and his daughters, she’d stayed busy with the center. Each night she’d checked the locker hiding spot before she left for home, and each night she breathed a sigh of relief the suspect hadn’t returned for the rest of the IDs.

  “Just a little clumsy. Long day.” At least that was the truth. Withholding information from anyone was never her strong suit.

  Tina’s gaze swept over Brooke’s outfit. “I wish I looked half as good as you after a long day. I remember, after my chemo treatments, I’d change into the softest outfits I owned since I didn’t want anything rough touching my skin. Drew didn’t mind, but I worried...” Tina halted and took a deep breath. “And then I knew. I had to battle the cancer, not the anxiety. He kept my morale up, saying how beautiful I was and that I’d get through it.”

  Brooke was taken aback at Tina’s willingness to share such private details. She let the words sink in. “Thank you for sharing that with me. People in Hollydale are so close and it catches me off guard sometimes. That’s incredibly hard, what you’ve been through..”

  Tina smiled. “Thanks to my annual mammogram, the doctors caught it early. Wait until my next three-day walk. I’ll ask you for a donation then. Trust me, men like Mysterious Cute Guy, if he’s like my Drew, are the ones who’ll support us through anything life throws our way.”

  Brooke nodded and glanced at her presentation table. Darn it. She’d prepared too well. Everything was ready, giving her no out from the romantic intrigue discussion. “Who said Mysterious Cute Guy was like Drew? For all anyone knows, he could be a scoundrel.” One cute guy in her past had been a louse. So far, their son didn’t take after him, for which Brooke thanked the stars above. “Or someone looking for a relationship with no strings attached.”

  Tina’s eyes sparkled. “Aha. Mysterious Cute Guy does exist. And...”

  Fabiana marched in, fanning her hand in front of her face. “Is it hot in here? It’s hot in here. Brooke, can you turn on the air conditioning? If you don’t, I’m going to sweat through my shirt.”

  She plucked her long-sleeve leopard-print silk shirt for good measure. Thankful for the interruption, Brooke walked over to the window and cracked it open. November in the Great Smoky Mountains provided quite a change from Houston, where she’d still be wearing short sleeves and the air conditioning would operate on full blast. Cool air seeped through the screen, and Brooke shivered. This weekend, she and Colin would have to invest in sweaters and gloves. “As soon as someone asks me to close the window, it goes down.”

  Fabiana perched herself on the sill. “That’s fair.”

  Aunt Mitzi walked in with Betty alongside her, their arms intertwined. “Glad to do it. I’m just relieved Joe is feeling better.”

  Brooke’s ears perked up, and she hurried over. “Is anything wrong with Joe?”

  Betty extricated herself from Aunt Mitzi’s hold and shrugged. “Nothing apart from old age. A touch of angina, that’s all. I didn’t want to leave him alone, so Mitzi arranged for Owen and Ashleigh to keep Joe company tonight. Isn’t that the sweetest thing?” Betty turned toward Mitzi. “I know you keep turning down Owen’s marriage proposals because he’s younger, but if you continue doing that, someone else is going to snap him up.”

  Marriage proposals? This was the first she’d heard of this. “Aunt Mitzi? Has Owen proposed to you?”

  Hyacinth entered the room and clapped her hands. “Oh, Mitzi! My heart overflows at the prospect of your upcoming nuptials. How exciting that you finally said yes to the wonderful park ranger. Have you thought about a wedding pie instead of a cake? Belinda could make one for the groom, and I can make a delicious flaky concoction for you. Lemon meringue? Strawberry chiffon? You name it, and it shall be done. Let me see the ring.”

  “Owen and I aren’t engaged.” Aunt Mitzi talked over the din of everyone offering their congratulations. Her aunt must have seen the fallen look on Brooke’s face, and she shoved the bags in Tina’s direction. “Here, Tina. Take the mimosa ingredients. I need to talk to Brooke for a minute.”

  In the hallway, Brooke swallowed the lump of emotion caught in her throat and composed herself. “Aunt Mitzi, we’ll talk later. I’m supposed to be directing the class.”

  “That can wait. You look upset.” Aunt Mitzi rubbed Brooke’s arm.

  Before Mitzi, it had been too long since someone displayed maternal instincts toward her. She’d been strong for Colin for some time, but her mother had taken leave not long after Brooke announced her pregnancy, saying thirty-three was too young to be a mother, let alone a grandmother. She’d only found Brooke and reconnected once her cirrhosis was too far gone for a transplant or treatment.

  “This isn’t about me. It’s about you, and this isn’t a good place to talk considering we’re supposed to start in two minutes.” Mr. Whitley had made it clear this afternoon she’d be looking for a job elsewhere if the police kept coming and going, making it even more imperative that Jonathan track down the person behind the fake IDs now.

  Brooke tried to tug free, but Aunt Mitzi held tight to her. “Yes, Owen has proposed.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?” She stepped back.

  “That explanation might take longer than the art lesson.” Aunt Mitzi’s laugh was anything but her usual belly buster.

  “Don’t make me put Hyacinth in charge.” She offered a small smile.

  This time Aunt Mitzi’s laugh was more genuine. “You’re catching on, sweetie pie.” She sobered. “I love Owen, but I feel like I’d jinx our relationship if we got married. A certificate’s not going to change the way I feel about him.”

  “Have you told him this?”

  “Good heavens, no.” Aunt Mitzi shuddered and then met Brooke’s gaze. “I guess it runs in the famil
y, same as you not telling me what’s been bothering you all week. You didn’t even crack a smile the other night when that cute little toddler came to our door dressed as a marshmallow for Halloween. And that was so precious.”

  Even Colin had slipped an extra piece of candy in the girl’s bag. “Don’t worry. It’s nothing...”

  Aunt Mitzi tapped her foot as though she wasn’t buying Brooke’s excuse. How could she confide in Aunt Mitzi without giving away the secret locker stash or the identity of Mysterious Cute Guy? Problem was, Tina had already figured out Jonathan was MCG. Still, Brooke valued her privacy. Guarded it, really. Since Tina had kept quiet, Brooke would do so as well.

  “Maybe you’re not the only person worried about the past jinxing a relationship.” Brooke flinched, aware of how that might sound. “Not that I’m in one. You need to get past Dwayne, though, if you’re going to move forward with Owen.”

  “You’ve given me something to think about. Perhaps I am letting my past stand in the way of my future.” Aunt Mitzi linked her arm through Brooke’s. “Let’s lose ourselves in creating a masterpiece.”

  They walked back into the room, and Brooke did exactly as her aunt suggested. The hour flew by, and everyone enjoyed themselves while showing off their latest creations. Four women had duplicated Brooke’s painting of stark tree branches with a simple blackbird. Once again, Hyacinth had gone out on her own limb and, once again, her painting astounded Brooke, who couldn’t tell if the abstract bird was a joke or a masterpiece.

  Hyacinth laughed and hugged Brooke. “It’s okay if I perplex you a tad. That’s a common reaction in these parts, but everybody loves me and accepts me the way I am, even if I am a bit chatty.”

  She let go, and Betty came over and wrapped her arm around Hyacinth’s shoulders. “And these ladies found room for me after my best friend, Marie, died. They keep me young,” Betty explained.

  Fabiana came over and linked her arm in Betty’s. “And mis amigas are my rock. Plus, the time away from Roberto helps us appreciate each other all the more when we are together.”

  She winked at Brooke, who smiled at the bond among these women. Tina did likewise before Aunt Mitzi wound one arm through Brooke’s and the other through Tina’s elbow. “The Mimosas. Where there’s always room for one more.”

  “And, Brooke, just say the word and I’ll make a friendly suggestion to Mason that he should give you a call.” Betty sent Brooke her second wink in as many minutes. “Cute paramedics don’t grow on trees, you know.”

  “The next time Carlos is in town, I promise to introduce the two of you,” Fabiana cut in with her own plug.

  If they kept this up, Brooke would rename this group the Matchmaking Mimosas.

  Tina chuckled and extricated herself from the group first. “Why don’t we give Brooke enough time to see what develops between her and MCG?”

  Brooke’s cheeks grew warm, and she was thankful she’d opened the windows earlier, the cool air providing a welcome balm.

  “Where are the goblets? I’m thirsty.” Fabiana wandered over to the side table.

  After the drinks, they pitched in and cleaned up before they made their excuses to leave. Before Brooke knew it, she hauled the box with extra canvases and other supplies that Hyacinth donated to the storage room. She flicked on the light switch, found space on the top shelf and rolled the round step stool over. With a groan, she lifted the box and placed it on the empty shelf. Her feet came out from under her, and she flailed and reached for the middle rack. With a deep breath, she steadied herself. A tote precariously close to the edge tumbled to the tile floor.

  Brooke caught her breath and took care the rest of the way down. She avoided the mess littering the floor. The lid lay to one side with Christmas decorations scattered everywhere. Testing her ankle, she was relieved there were no twinges of pain, but she couldn’t say the same about the broken ornaments. Who stored loose ornaments like this without packing them better? It was almost as though someone had thrown them in at the last minute. She’d talk to Al and Joe about how they stored holiday displays.

  Something was off. She glanced at the middle shelf, where brand-new office supplies sat stacked in neat rows. Not a Christmas tote in sight.

  Concern aside, she’d best clean this mess up. Where was that broom? She spotted it in the corner next to another shelving unit. Her gaze swept over the its contents. Holiday decorations occupied every inch, celebrating everything from Hanukkah to Arbor Day. Those containers were clear with labels, unlike the solid blue one on the floor.

  The hairs on the back of her neck prickled, and she stopped short of touching anything. Instead, she searched the office supplies for a pack of rulers and extricated one. With dread, she knelt beside the mess and poked into the box until a professional laminator, different from the one in the center’s copy room and with a state logo, caught her eye.

  She whipped out her cell phone and made the call.

  * * *

  THE CHILLY WIND whirled around Jonathan, a harbinger of the holidays to come. The oaks and maples were finally shedding their leaves. The rounded shadows of the mountains, solid and permanent, something he almost took for granted since he passed them now without actually seeing them, rose in profile against the dark sky. Jonathan approached Brooke, who was waiting at the center’s main doors.

  “We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” The grin in his voice faded when her solemn expression clawed at his heart.

  He put an arm around her shoulders, comforting her. For now, friendship would have to suffice.

  “Why here? Why this center?” she asked.

  “It’s okay. Anyone this vested in this scheme must be antsy. He’ll be coming back for the materials any day now.”

  She shivered and squeezed her eyes shut tight as if she were fighting tears. Ever since he’d responded to the grocery store owner’s call regarding the first fake ID and then found a second in Eric’s possession after the fender bender, he’d wanted to catch the person responsible. Seeing this composed woman upset and trembling brought a renewed commitment to do just that. Too much equipment remained at the facility. Jonathan had to believe the person wouldn’t leave it here forever.

  Brooke opened her eyes once more. “That’s what I’m afraid of.” She led him past the too-familiar bank of chairs. “Do you have a minute? Or would taking time with me interfere with your shift?”

  “I swapped with a fellow officer for last weekend’s night shift, but I’m back to working my normal schedule.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. For the umpteenth time this year, he was taking advantage of his next-door neighbor, who’d agreed to come over and sit with Izzy and Vanessa, both sound asleep in bed.

  But as much as he needed to return home, he wouldn’t rush this investigation or Brooke. The misery on her face twisted his heart, finally waking up again after hibernating for so long.

  She sat in the closest chair, her hands shaking. “Go ahead to the storage area without me.”

  “Brooke. I’m off duty. I’ll stay here until you can come, too.”

  “Who’s watching Izzy and Vanessa?” She sniffled.

  He rose and plucked a couple of tissues from the box on Betty’s desk. He returned and handed them to her. “My next-door neighbor. As soon as she arrived for the girls, I rushed over.”

  He met her gaze, and the air crackled at his admission. Somehow, he knew that no matter what, if she called him, he’d do everything in his power to answer.

  “Mr. Whitley found out about your official visits.” She then swiped at her nose with the tissue. “Nothing like showing your worst colors to someone and then showing them a red nose, too.”

  “It worked for Rudolph and Clarice just fine.”

  This time her smile was genuine. “I enjoy watching Rudolph every December. I should have known you were a closet romantic.”

  He performed a slight bow from the
chair. “If the shoe, or in this case duty boots, fits...”

  She stood and massaged the back of her neck. He longed to knead out some of her tension for her. “I imagine your neighbor would like to return home. This can wait. I’ll walk you to the storage room.” He wasn’t budging, not with something so obviously wrong with Brooke.

  “I imagine you need to talk to someone.” He pointed to the seats. Somehow, he wanted to make room in his heart for her. He’d gladly spend the next fifty years figuring out what made her tick. “Nothing says romantic like hard plastic chairs in the middle of a deserted lobby.”

  She glanced the other way before she sat two seats down from his. He arched an eyebrow, and she slid next to him. It was nice having her close. It felt right having someone beside him.

  Not just anyone. Brooke.

  “I signed a six-month contract, at which time he’ll review my performance and whether the community seems more willing to accept the center. Someone told him you’ve been here several times in your official capacity. Now he’s second-guessing his decision to hire me.”

  Brooke wouldn’t stay somewhere unless she could be useful, needed. “Are you upset about the prospect of losing your job?” He hedged for a second and then continued, “Or are you worried someone’s reporting your every step to Mr. Whitley?”

  She clicked her tongue. “Give that man a prize.” She rolled her neck. “I know I’ve done nothing to deserve loyalty yet...”

  “I sense a but in there.”

  “While he signs the paychecks, it would be nice if there wasn’t a mole.” She wrapped her arms around herself as if she was warding off a chill. “That’s strong language, but I feel anyone who’s reporting everything I do to him is someone I don’t want on my staff. Am I being cautious or paranoid?”

  Those big brown eyes looked at him, and he struggled to keep control. “I feel that same push and pull every day in my job, too.” He considered the idea of loyalty in his life. Were the sheriff and the district attorney looking for the best candidate?