by Lisa Plumley
“No, I’m sorry,” Casey told her, feeling his heart hammering with need and urgency and what felt like unrestrained love. In the single bravest act of his life, he stepped all the way to where Kristen stood. He looked at her. He nodded. “I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I left you, and I’m sorry I didn’t stand my ground and tell you how I really felt. Because—”
“You don’t have to,” Kristen interrupted, shaking her head as tears sprang to her eyes. “You don’t have to say or do any of that, Casey. You don’t, because I—”
Because I don’t feel the same way about you, Casey imagined her saying for one terrifying instant. And I wanted to come here and tell you so in person. But then he just forged onward.
“I do,” he insisted. “I do need to tell you. Because I love you, Kristen. I really do.” His voice felt rough, the words unfamiliar but unabashedly right. “I love your smile and your walk and your talent with a mason jar. I love your generosity and your spirit. I love your laugh and your courage, and the way you can’t help singing along to all the Christmas carols—”
“You noticed that?” She blushed prettily. “Whoops.”
“I even love your mania for Christmas!” Casey went on, feeling—as he continued talking and she didn’t stop him—that maybe this was going to work out after all. “Because of you, I faced down my inner Scrooge—”
“It looks like you won.” Kristen nodded at his tree.
“—and because of you, I kicked his sorry ass to the curb,” Casey continued joyfully, “and because of you, I might actually have a chance at the kind of Christmas I’ve always wanted—”
“Oh, it’s happening,” Kristen assured him. She came almost close enough to step on his toes. Sweetly and softly, she kissed him. “Because I love you, too, Casey. I love you, and I want you, and I don’t know how I ever got along without you, because when you’re not there, the tinsel loses its sparkle and all the lights look dim, and I can’t wait to give you a real Christmas. Because I can promise you, it’s going to blow your mind.”
“Will it include you?”
She nodded, gazing happily at him.
“Then that’s all I need,” Casey said, knowing it was true. “Because I love you with every single breath I take, Kristen. I really do. I know it sounds cheesy, and I wish I’d had time to prepare, because this could have been so much more impressive—”
“It’s perfect already.” Kristen kissed him again, leaving him yearning for more. More more more. “I love you the same way, Casey! I love your laugh and your determination and your talent for bringing people together. I love your sexy bod and your intelligence and your strength, and I love the way you disco—”
“You saw that?” Casey blanched. “Uh-oh.”
“—and I admire you, too,” Kristen went on, her eyes still sparkling at him. She sniffled. “Because some people would break after all you’ve been through. But you’ve managed to take what happened to you—to take what life handed you—and use it to become a man who makes a difference. You’re a man who helps everyone, Casey, whether you want to admit it or not—”
“Well, I’ve heard I hypnotize people,” he joked.
“—and that matters. It matters more than you know, to more people than you know.” Kristen drew in another deep breath, then nodded. “It matters to me.”
“You matter to me,” Casey swore. “I’m sorry I didn’t say so before. I wanted to. I did! But I—”
“No more apologies.” With another kiss, Kristen cut him off. “You’re home now, Casey. Home with me. As long as we’re together, you’ll never have to wonder if you’re getting what you want for Christmas,” Kristen told him. “Because I’m going to dedicate myself to making sure you get it, every single year.”
“I always did want a big family,” Casey said, only half joking, even as he grinned at her. “Do you think everyone at the diner would let me hang around a while? Because I think I could wrangle another assignment in Kismet, and I know I didn’t know them for long, but somehow I feel as though Gareth and Avery and Walden and Talia are just like family to me. Just like you are.”
“They’re all waiting in Kismet for you,” Kristen assured him with a smile, “just in case you want a turn with the Galaxy Diner Santa hat. You never did try it. Which reminds me . . .” Briefly turning away, she rummaged through her carry-on bag. She emerged with something small and plastic. She handed it to him. “I think you forgot this. But I know that it’s yours.”
When Casey looked at his hand, his RESERVED sign was there.
Inexplicably, the sight of it made him feel like bawling.
“You’ll be in my heart forever,” Kristen told him solemnly. “But just in case you forget that . . . Well, just look at that sign and remember. We want you, Casey. It’ll take more than a supersunny Christmas and a cross-country flight to scare me away.”
Uncertainly, Casey brandished his substandard-but-lovable Christmas tree. “How about this thing? Does this scare you?”
Kristen peered at it. “Not a chance. Like I said, all it needs are a few decorations. Speaking of which . . .”
She delved in her bag again. A heartbeat later, she pulled out a tangled string of holiday lights. She grinned at him.
“I brought these for that palm tree you mentioned,” Kristen said. “I’m pretty sure you promised to decorate it for me?”
“Anything you want. I’ll make it happen,” Casey vowed.
“Anything? Hmm. That’s interesting.” With authority, Kristen took away his Christmas tree. It was so skimpy that she could easily carry it to the nearest raised flower bed in the courtyard. She leaned the tree securely against the stone edging. “Will you give me . . . garland?”
Passionately, Casey nodded. As far as he was concerned, Kristen could just go on challenging him—go on going toe-to-toe with him and keeping him real—for as long as she cared to.
“Whatever you want,” he said. “You’ve got it.”
“Okay. Will you give me . . . gingerbread and Christmas carols?”
“Every day and every night,” Casey promised. “Until you’re sick of ginger and can’t face another chorus of fa-la-las.”
“Sweet!” Looking cheered, Kristen came back to him. With utter conviction and total sexiness, she wrapped her arms around his neck. “Will you give me . . . you? Because that’s all I want for Christmas.”
“Done and done.” Freed now of his pine-needle-dropping burden, Casey swept her up in his arms. She whooped as he hoisted her a bit higher, then headed toward his apartment.
“Where are you going?” Kristen asked, twisting around to look at his spindly fir tree. “Your tree’s back there. We’re going to need that to celebrate Christmas properly.”
“Oh, I promise you we’ll celebrate Christmas properly,” Casey said with a meaningful look. He walked a little faster. “When it comes to Christmas, you might be the expert. But when it comes to ‘celebrating’”—here, he stopped to kiss her again—“I know all there is to know about doing it up right. And as soon as we get inside, I’m going to show you.”
As he began striding onward again, Kristen gave him an impish look. “Will this celebration involve Christmas things?”
“Yes,” Casey said with certainty. “It will involve me, and you, and love—and that is the most Christmassy thing of all.”
Then he put Kristen down, opened his door, and took her inside, knowing that even if he needed from now until next Christmas to do it, he intended to prove that to her.
Because while it might be true that for most people, Christmas was commercialized and codified, overloaded and overdone, shrunk and stretched and started in September, for him and Kristen, Christmas was something real. It was something right and necessary and amazing.
Because somehow, unexpectedly, he and Kristen had found Christmas in Kismet and L.A and everyplace in between, Casey realized as he smiled and kissed her again. Thanks to the woman in his arms, he knew that all you really needed to feel the magic of Chr
istmas was someone else to feel it with you.
For him, that was Kristen—today, tomorrow, and forever.
“Ohmigod!” she cried, looking in amazement inside his apartment. “You must have a hundred paper snowflakes in here!”
Oh yeah. He’d forgotten about that, Casey realized. He’d been trying to feel closer to Kristen. He’d been folding and scissoring and folding and scissoring, trying to get it right. He’d hung all the lopsided, crumpled snowflakes he’d created all through his apartment, feeling a little better whenever he’d looked at them, knowing no one else would ever see them.
Now though, his secret was out.
“Aw.” Kristen looked at him with her face alight. Casey had never glimpsed so much tenderness and love in anyone’s eyes before. Only Kristen’s. With a saucy smile, she jumped in his arms again. “You are so getting lucky right now.”
“Too late,” Casey informed her. “I got lucky the minute you turned up today. The minute you smiled at me.”
Then he swung shut his apartment door, lost himself in another kiss . . . and got down to letting Kristen know exactly how much he cared about her—using words and deeds and whatever else it took to assure her that she was his and he was hers, for this Christmas to come and every single Christmas after that.
Chapter 26
Kismet, Michigan
Christmas Eve
“All right,” Kristen announced as she emerged from her diner’s kitchen on Christmas Eve. Carrying an enormous, mul-tiserving version of her latest top-secret, personalized creation, she caught Casey’s eye as she crossed the room. “Now you’re really getting inducted into the Galaxy Diner family.”
Seated in his usual reserved corner booth, surrounded by Walden, Avery, Talia, and Gareth, Casey smiled. It turned out that the Santa hat they all shared looked really good on him.
He rubbed his palms together. “Awesome. I can’t wait.”
Proudly, Kristen set down her dish. In size and composition, it most closely resembled a traditional British trifle, which would have ordinarily been composed of layers of cake cubes and fruit and pastry cream and whipped cream. But this, despite its proportions and appearance, was different.
“Wow!” Casey eyed it with trepidation. “That’s, um . . . really big. I was expecting a pie-in-a-jar.” He cupped his hands, approximating the typical dimensions of her most famous dessert. “I hope I’m not supposed to eat all of that all by myself.”
“Why not?” Kristen smiled. “There’s always ketchup.”
At her teasing, Casey gave her an affectionate smile.
They’d spent a few days together in California, exploring all the ways they could “celebrate” their togetherness. To Kristen’s surprise, it had turned out that T-shirts and shorts made very comfortable attire for tree-trimming parties and light-stringing shindigs. Eggnog still tasted delicious while being sipped beside the ocean. Christmas carols sounded good even when not juxtaposed with howling winter winds. And sunshine didn’t dampen her enthusiasm for Christmas a single bit—not when Casey was there beside her to share the holidays with, now and forever.
All the same, they’d decided together to come back to Kismet for Christmas. Because Kristen hadn’t forgotten what Casey had said about wanting a big family—even if he had meant a big family made up of quirky, unrelated oddballs, all with an excess of enthusiasm for renovated fifties gas stations, sugary sweets, and being together to celebrate the holidays.
“Didn’t Kristen tell you?” Gareth looked up from her supersize creation. “All Kristen’s pies-in-a-jar come in a Godzilla-size, I-dare-you-to-eat-all-this version first.”
“That’s right,” Avery agreed. “Each of us has a pie-in-a-jar dedicated especially to us. It’s a tradition.”
“A tradition that only happens for really special people,” Talia said, shooting a loving glance at Walden.
“A tradition that, in this case, seriously taxes the resources of the pastry department,” Walden added, “since Kristen put everything except the kitchen sink in there.”
Leaning against the booth beside Casey, Kristen put her arm around him. “Well, I had to do that,” she said warmly. “Casey’s got a lot of making up for lost time to do. So I had to fit everything Christmassy in there.” She gestured at her multilayer extravaganza. “It’s got several layers,” she told him, “so as you go, you’ll taste fruitcake, spritz cookies, gingerbread, peppermint bark, sugar cookies, plum pudding . . . the works. All topped with whipped cream. And sprinkles!”
Casey’s eyes lit up, like . . . well, like a kid’s at Christmas. A kid who’d finally, at long last, gotten his heart’s desire.
Casey looked at his custom, gigantic pie-in-a-jar. “I’m going to share this, of course,” he informed them all with a smile. “If this is some kind of hazing, I’m not doing it. I learned the hard way that sharing is where it’s at.”
Everyone nodded. “Go on! Dig in!” Gareth shouted.
Casey looked more closely. He seemed puzzled. “What’s the lighted candle in the middle for? It’s not my birthday.”
“It’s for you to make a wish.” Contentedly, Kristen nudged Casey sideways with her hip, then snuggled up next to him in his designated booth. They’d had his RESERVED sign professionally laminated and affixed to the diner’s wall nearby, so there would never be any confusion about who belonged there. She shrugged. “I can’t remember how it started. It’s just what we do. So go ahead,” she urged Casey. “Make a wish.”
“Make a wish!” Avery chanted. “Make a wish!”
Gareth, Talia, and Walden joined in, too, clanging their forks on the table with comical fervor. “Make a wish!”
“You’d better give in,” Kristen advised Casey with a jostle from her shoulder to his. “They’re not going to quit.”
“Okay.” With his face lit by the glow of his welcome to the Galaxy Diner family candle, Casey closed his eyes. He paused to make his wish. Then he blew out the candle.
Everyone cheered. Kristen squeezed his hand.
Casey opened his eyes. He gazed into her face.
“My wish just came true,” he told her.
And she knew as he said it that hers had, too.
Because all she’d ever wanted for Christmas was to feel happy. With Casey, Kristen did. Now and forever and for every single crazy Kismet Christmas that would come next.
Because life was sweet. And so was love . . . especially when it came along at Christmastime!
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading Together for Christmas!
I had so much fun writing about Kristen and Casey and the whole crew at the Galaxy Diner. They really found their way into my heart. I couldn’t wait to dream up happy endings for them! If you spotted a few familiar faces in this story, that’s because this is my third visit to Kismet, Michigan. It’s my favorite place to visit for Christmas!
To learn more about my other Kismet Christmas books, Home for the Holidays and Holiday Affair, please visit my Website at www.lisaplumley.com. While you’re there, you can also read free first-chapter excerpts from all my contemporary, historical, and paranormal romances, sign up for my new-book reminder service, catch sneak previews of my upcoming books, request special reader freebies, and more.
Are you curious about how to make Kristen’s apple pie-in-a-jar? Interested in getting recipes for other Christmas goodies and helpful holiday hints? If so, please follow@Heather_Hotline on Twitter, where I’ll be posting recipes and tips this holiday season!
Finally, I love hearing from readers, so I’d be thrilled if you would “friend” me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/lisaplumleybooks, follow me @LisaPlumley on Twitter, or e-mail me at [email protected].
Until next time . . . happy holidays!
Lisa Plumley
P.S. If you want to read about how Natasha and Damon got together before their surprise visit to Kismet, turn the page for a peek at Melt Into You, available in paperback and as an eBook wherever books are sold.
Chap
ter 1
La Jolla, California
September 2002
Damon Torrance believed in a lot of things.
He believed in perfect surf, unassailable integrity, and the ultimate Baja fish taco. He believed in making connections, making things happen, and making a never-fail margarita (it was all about the blue agave tequila). He believed that nudity was better than wearing . . . anything at all, no matter how pricey the clothes were or where you happened to be going.
He believed that rules were made to be broken and that whoever had said virtue was its own reward probably hadn’t tried hard enough to be bad first. He believed that person shouldn’t have made that decision so damn hastily. Or so publicly. Because that idiot had ruined it for everyone else who just wanted to have a good time.
When it came right down to it, more than anything else, Damon believed that life was too short to waste time with anything less than one hundred percent pleasure. Plain and simple.
That’s why, when he found himself spending a week with an attractive, capable, flirtatious, and ultra-available journalist (she made it bluntly, sexily, one-step-short-of-manhandling-him obvious that she was single) who was writing a profile of him and his family’s company, Torrance Chocolates, for Oceanside Living magazine’s “Getting to Know . . .” feature, Damon took the only reasonable action.
He let her seduce him. On his desk. In full view of the glittering Pacific Ocean outside. Right between his stapler and his office phone, with his brand-new, full-size desk calendar for a cushion. Not that Kimberly (the journalist) bothered to scout a prime location before she smiled, dropped her notepad, and lunged at him.
It would have been rude to say no, Damon reasoned. So he met her kiss with a sliding, seductive, nice-to-meet-you lip-lock of his own . . . and before he knew it, they were “Getting to Know . . .” each other pretty damn well. Kimberly’s warmth was a sharp contrast to the brisk ocean breeze coming in off the Pacific. Her perfume added synthetic flowers and spice to the sugary smells of the confectionary shop downstairs. Her breath panted over him. Her I’m-a-professional suit jacket hit the floor. So did his I’m-supposed-to-be-working shirt. They kissed a little more. Then they kissed again, more passionately.