Just like that, huh? He grinned. “Oh, you are quick. I didn’t know reading Dick and Jane could sharpen the mental skills like that.”
She flushed pink and had the grace to look sheepish. “I guess I owe you an apology for the other night, too.”
“Accepted, but that’s not what I meant. You make hosting my family party sound so easy.”
“How hard can it be? Fix a turkey dinner and some pies.”
“That’s the point. I’m no good at all that.”
“But I am. I love to host big parties.”
Not for Kyle’s siblings. Not for Kyle’s dad. And especially not at Christmastime. It was a tempting thought, just not a wise one. He shook his head. “You don’t know my family.”
She looked horrified, while her green eyes reflected mischief. “Does snowman mutilation run in the family?”
He couldn’t keep from chuckling. “No, I don’t think so.”
“Well, then, how bad could they be?” She leaned forward and touched his hand. “I would really like to do this.”
Warmth spiraled from her hand into his and zipped up his arm, melting his normal reserve, and he conceded somewhat. “Perhaps.”
She smiled and withdrew her hand. She had him, now. “One other thing...”
He mock scowled, wishing he dared reach out and take her hand in his. “What now?”
“I’m a decorator.” She paused. “I’ve noticed you’re not.”
Could she say understatement? “Must have been the three minutes in my entryway the other night.”
“Didn’t take longer than thirty seconds.” She leaned toward him, earnest, her perfume inviting. “Let me decorate your house for the holidays.”
“Absolutely not.” He could feel his lips tighten. She might be pretty, but she was invading his space.
“Well, at least let me do your yard, then. You live on Christmas Street, for heaven’s sake, and you’ve got the only unlit house for three blocks.”
He took a deep breath and trotted out his usual lame excuse. “Listen. I don’t have time to decorate.”
“That’s why I’ll do it for you.” She sighed and the sound vibrated in the air sadly.
He wasn’t sure what to say, so he stayed quiet.
When she spoke again, she was serious. “Listen, I’m an only child, so I have no siblings. My parents died in a car crash, so I have no family whatsoever. I have no one but my kids. And I just moved into the area, so I don’t really have friends yet. Please allow me the privilege of surrounding myself with family, even if it is not my own. You’d be doing me a favor.”
Kyle looked at her and wanted to please her. The next moment, equally solemn, he found himself spilling his guts to this woman he barely knew. “It doesn’t help you get into the mood of the holidays if your mother died of cancer on Christmas Eve when you were nine years old.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Lexi sat back in her chair. “How awful for you.”
He waved a hand, trying to dismiss the subject he never spoke of. “It was a long time ago.”
“And you still don’t do Christmas.” She shook her head sadly.
Unexpectedly, he found himself chuckling. “I barely do family any more.”
“But that might be part of the healing for you. If you could do a family Christmas.”
“Listen, lady, I can barely stand to be in your house, there’re so many memories being triggered. That’s all I’d need is to have my family in my decorated house.”
She sat quietly for a minute, obviously thinking it out. “So does your whole family avoid the holidays?”
“You bet. All three of us boys. Dad, too. Although Keefe’s wife Alyssa does try to brighten things up at their house. She grew up next door, so she knew Mama, too.”
“What do you think would happen if you invited your family and decorated your house for them?”
“They’d probably walk in the house, turn around, march right back out, and double check the house number.” He drew in a deep breath. “Look, I don’t want your pity.”
“Pity?” She laughed warmly, the sound as sparkling and magical as pixie dust. “Boy, have you read me wrong. Getting you back into the holidays is the biggest challenge someone like me could have.”
The kids raced back into the room, and their pretty mother smiled. “Kids, Kyle Miller is going to be here for your birthday party. And we’re going to help him decorate his yard for Christmas.”
She was invading his space again. “Now, wait--“
She smiled in triumph, and the kids squealed in excitement so that he couldn’t say any more, not without disappointing them. How did she know he’d react this way?
She’d played him.
Like a musical instrument.
And, he realized with surprise, he’d enjoyed being played. But it scared the daylights out of him to think about actually celebrating Christmas. “I’m not inviting my family.”
“You have to.” Her eyes lit up. More mischief, no doubt.
“And why exactly is that?”
“Because otherwise my kids will think you’re chicken.”
She’d issued a challenge, and her kids knew it. Their eyes grew large and they glanced from their mother to him and back again.
The silence lingered in the air until Lexi placed her hands on her hips, arched an eyebrow, and said, “Triple dog dare you.”
He chuckled again at the sight. Oh, what could it hurt? His mother had died twenty-two years ago. If this pretty redhead with the domestic touch was right and this party would be a healing thing, that would be a good thing, right? Besides, it would give him a great excuse to spend more time with Lexi. And, surprised, he realized he very much wanted more time with Lexi.
Slowly a smile spread over her face. “So you’ll be inviting your family, Mr. Miller?”
“I’ll call them tonight.” He found himself smiling in return. “If they don’t die of surprise, I suppose they might even show up.”
“Good.” She pulled out a notebook and a pen. “We’ve got a lot of work ahead of us.”
“I can’t think of anyone more suited to getting it done. Just don’t plan on putting my yard on your show.”
“No guarantees on that one. Your place is going to be so gorgeous it’ll be a shame to waste it.”
Amazed, he could hardly believe he’d agreed to invite his family. What was there about this woman that invited his confidences about Mama? And why was he letting her call the shots on this--and not minding?
She didn’t look one bit like his exotic Italian beauty of a mother, Gabriella Fiorenza Calabria Miller. But he was beginning to think Lexi had the same strength of will his mother had exerted over his big Irish father, who she could get to agree to anything. And he was beginning to understand why his father had let her have her way.
Lexi’s smile was very pretty. He liked to see her use it.
He suspected his father would like this woman, too.
He drew in another deep breath. He’d never thought he’d celebrate Christmas again. And now he supposed he really ought to get back to his book. But one more look at Lexi, and he decided he could stay away from it for another half hour or so.
The board games lasted closer to two hours.
* * *
As soon as he reached home, Kyle dialed his brother’s number.
“Hello.” Keefe’s wife answered.
“Hi, Alyssa. It’s Kyle.”
“I vaguely remember you,” she teased lightly. “Aren’t you the black sheep of the family?”
“That’s me.” He drew in a deep breath. “Keefe told me if I didn’t host the party this year it would fall on you again.”
“Oh, that’s all right. I enjoy doing it.”
“You know what, why don’t you get Keefe on the other line. I’m not sure I can say this twice.”
“What’s wrong?” Her voice grew concerned.
“Nothing’s wrong.” At least he didn’t think so. Or every
thing was wrong, he wasn’t sure. “Just get Keefe.”
He could hear her call her husband, and then the click of another phone.
“I’m on.”
“Hi, Keefe. Okay, guys, I guess you’re all wondering why I’ve called this meeting.”
Keefe snorted. “To tell us you can’t make it for the Court of Honor, either?”
Kyle deserved that, he supposed. He’d spent too much time in the last five years avoiding all family gatherings. “No. Actually, I’m taking you up on your invitation to host the party this year. You’re all invited to my house for the holidays. With one condition.”
There was silence for a moment on the line. Then Alyssa laughed. “That’s great. You’re celebrating a holiday, all right. It’s a little early for April Fool’s Day, but with you it’s a start.”
“What’s the condition?” Keefe sounded suspicious.
“It’s a cinch. Just call Dad and Kenneth for me. Because I really do have a bear of a deadline.”
“Anything you want us to bring to go with the peanut butter and banana sandwiches? Good thing we’re not wine drinkers because I just wouldn’t know whether to bring red or white.” Keefe asked.
“Oh, no. We’ll be having a lovely dinner.”
“Chuck-A-Rama a la cart, eh?”
“No, actually,” Kyle smiled at the thought, “Alexis Anderson is catering.”
“Yeah, right.” Keefe laughed. “We’ll bring something.”
Alyssa said, “I’m glad you’re having the party. May I suggest a new tradition this year?”
Keefe chuckled and said, “I’ll get off now and let the Queen of Happy Holidays take over.”
Another click let Kyle know that it was just him and Alyssa on the line.
“Okay, here goes nothing, she said. “I’d like to go through a holiday with your family where everyone isn’t all depressed.”
She stopped, as if waiting for him to blast the thought..
He shrugged, though she couldn’t see him. “I think that’s a great idea.” It was certainly what Lexi had just finished telling him.
It was becoming obvious to him that Christmas needed a woman’s touch. And, if their mother couldn’t be there with them, perhaps these other two good women could make the difference.
Chapter Seven
THREE DAYS BEFORE CHRISTMAS
Looking in the bathroom mirror, Kyle ran a comb through his hair. He’d already showered and dressed--much earlier than normal--just in case Lexi wasn’t joking last night. It would be embarrassing if she caught him in his bathrobe.
Yawning, he hoped she hadn’t meant it. No, wait, that wasn’t entirely true. After he’d called his family last night and invited them, he hoped she did mean she would help him deal with his family, though he still didn’t particularly want cute Christmas things all over his lawn, though.
Tossing the comb down, he closed the drawer.
Now, while he waited for Lexi to show, time to work.
The commute took him all of two minutes, which was one of the perks of working from home. It was eight-thirty in the morning and he was booting up his computer, hoping for early inspiration.
Surely today he’d break through his writer’s block. Always before, if he would just apply his back side to the seat enough days in a row, something would begin to happen on the pages, and eventually that something would be good. Millions of readers couldn’t be wrong. Could they?
Who knew that an author who’d sold as many best sellers as he had could still be so insecure.
Icons popped onto his screen, and he clicked to open his book file: Strong5. He searched for his place and, after reading a few paragraphs, he was back in the story. Which meant he was also back at the block.
After thirty minutes of struggling to motivate the ending he needed, Kyle muttered a word his mother would not have approved of. With that thought, he leaned back in his chair. Thoughts of her always bubbled up through his shield this time of year, carrying sadness. Sorry, Mama.
When the doorbell rang, he jumped in his seat. It was just after nine. Who on earth was up terrorizing the neighborhood at this hour of the day? He hoped it was Lexi.
He opened the door to find his very attractive, very pushy redheaded neighbor on his door step, smiling up at him. “Ready to go?”
He glanced at his watch in mock dismay. “Are you kidding? It’s the middle of the night for me. I was up until three.”
“Do all authors keep such undead hours?” She tilted her head. “May I come in?”
“Oh, sure.” He opened the door wide and she entered, filling the entry with Christmas cheer.
“So,” she turned back and clasped her hands together as if in delight, “have you bought any decorations at all?”
“Decorations?” he repeated dumbly, pretending to misunderstand.
“Yes. You know. Rudolph. Candy canes. Mistletoe.”
He shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t bought nary a one.”
With a look of disbelief, she said, “Everyone has lights. Please tell me you at least have lights. And a tree stand.”
“I have a lot of stuff, actually. Stuff my neighbors have left on my yard over the past few years. It’s in my shed.”
“All right. Let’s go check out your stash.”
He led the way to the shed, unlocked it, threw open the doors, and pointed inside with a flourish. “There. Anything you might possibly want to put up can be found in this shed.”
She looked inside, whistled in appreciation, and looked him square in the eye. “You didn’t buy any of this?”
“Nope.”
“Wow. I moved into a more affluent neighborhood than I thought for your neighbors to be able to afford all of this.”
“They do it out of spite.” He repressed a smile at her expression.
He’d never seen anyone as efficient as she was. Within ten minutes, she’d gone through all the lights, the elves, the Santas. Turning to him, she said, “We need more.”
“How could we possibly need more than this?”
“Oh, my dear famous author, you are so naive in the ways of the Christmas world.” She slipped her hand around his elbow and they started out of the shed. “You are going to have the most beautiful yard on our very much decorated street.”
“Buying decorations wasn’t part of the deal,” he began.
She stopped. “You’re not going to renege on a deal, are you? I never took you for the kind of guy who would do that. What are my children going to think? In fact, what are all of your young fans going to think?” Her voice was teasing.
“Let me guess. You’ll let them all know on your next show.”
“I bet the Enquirer would pay me a good ten grand for this story. Maybe twenty.”
He sighed deeply. “You are indeed an evil and heartless woman, Ms. Anderson.”
“And don’t you forget it. Now get your credit card warmed up and don your sunglasses so we’re not disturbed by your many short young fans while we’re shopping.”
And shopping they did. He followed her dutifully with a cart, then two, plus one of the big flat ones to carry the large lighted 3-D items on. She was so animated and happy and her smile was infectious. He found himself enjoying himself more and more.
He’d dated through the years--even been engaged once--but he’d never found anyone he could just spend time with like this and enjoy. A friend, who seemed more than a friend. Almost a part of him.
She even seemed able to keep his Christmas demons at bay. Or at least he thought so until, suddenly, in the cinnamon-scented ornament aisle, the walls started to close in on him.
This was just too much Christmas.
He’d been foolish to attempt this. He knew better.
She put a hand on his arm. “Are you okay? You’re pale.”
He should not say anything about the past. He should just push these feelings back where they belonged. He should just tell her he was fine and move on.
Instead, he found himself whispering, “It just gets hard sometimes. Because of my mother.” He pointed to the blue glass bulbs. “She loved glass ornaments. And we boys were so rambunctious that we broke quite a few of them. And...” he grew quiet, the pain bubbling up into his heart and choking him. He took some deep breaths, stuffed the pain back down, and the feeling passed.
Better now, he looked her in the eye. “I’m fine. Let’s go on.”
Obviously she didn’t believe him. “Sometimes it’s good to face the feelings, feel them and then let them go. You can’t go on pushing them back forever.”
What did she know about his feelings? Resentment rose within him. “I’m fine,” he repeated.
“I’m glad.” She smiled, though a bit forced. “All right. I think we’ve got enough stuff now. What say we head for the cashier?”
Relieved, he said, “Yes.”
But before they reached the front, she found Rudolph and all the other reindeers pulling a giant Santa-filled sleigh. She stopped. “This would look lovely right next to your driveway.”
“No way. I’ve already got three reindeer and four candy canes and I’ve lost track of how many disgusting little elves.”
She shrugged. “Well, if you want your family to be disappointed.”
“My family is going to die of shock as it is. You force me to buy this and you could be guaranteeing a death in my family.”
“I’d have never guessed you were raised in such a family of wimps.”
He laughed out loud at that. “Wait until my brothers hear what you called them.”
“Yeah. Well, I’ll call them that to their faces, too,” she teased.
“I have no doubt of that. I just wonder what you’ll use to blackmail them with.”
“I can convince some people with a smile.”
“And others you have to resort to blackmail.” He took a deep, melodramatic breath. “Okay. We’ll get the stupid sleigh.”
“You’re so cute when you’re exasperated.”
She stood so near that he could smell the light flowery perfume she wore and could feel the warmth radiating from her body. When she turned her vivid green eyes on him--eyes which did stay just as rich when she wasn’t angry--and smiled, he wanted to drop what he held in his arms and pull her into them. Instead, he smiled back.
“You know, it would be a shame to have such a beautifully decorated yard and nothing inside your house.”
“Now you want to decorate my house. Why does that not surprise me?”
Her smile widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Bah, Humbug! (A Romantic Comedy Christmas Novella) Page 4