Her Mistletoe Bachelor

by Carolyn Hector

  “Hey, Ms. B,” someone shouted in the parking lot.

  British squinted her eyes and tried to recognize the voice. “Hey, Mario.”

  Donovan recognized Mario and Dario Crowne. Their older brother, Dominic, was a good friend of the family’s. Dominic’s brothers and sister, Alisha, were always in town from South Florida over at the house in the Overtown neighborhood for epic parties. “Hi, boys.”

  “Who’s that you’ve got with you? Oh snap,” Dario said, shielding his eyes from the blaze of the setting sun. “Donovan?”

  “Hey, twins,” Donovan called out with a head nod. “I thought I heard you were in Southwood now.”

  Dario and Mario came over and greeted Donovan with a hug and handshake. They talked for a few minutes before a few young ladies walked by and caught their attention.

  “I am about to walk into my hometown festival with a celebrity, aren’t I?” British teased, elbowing Donovan in the ribs.

  Giving a shallow cough, Donovan casually draped his arm over her shoulder. A part of him wondered if this would show he was staking a claim on her. He had no right but being this close to her felt natural. So caught up in his thoughts, Donovan heard the honk of a car horn in enough time to pull British up onto the curb. The movement had been so quick but they lingered in each other’s embrace for ten heartbeats or more. They broke apart when a whirl of wind from a ride blew over their head followed by the screams of women, children and men.

  British stepped out of his embrace with a shiver. “Where do you want to start? Rides? Or did you say you were scared?”

  Donovan cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. “I never said either. But I’m not a big fan of roller coasters.”

  “You don’t seriously think something bad can happen, now do you?”

  “You mean get stuck upside down and fall out?” Donovan waved off the notion with a healthy dose of sarcasm and a pshaw. “Sure, all those news stories were wrong.”

  “They were wrong for not telling the full story.” British rolled her eyes. “Majority of the injuries happen because of people not following the rules.”

  “Let me guess, there’s a science behind roller coasters?” Donovan joked.

  “Engineering.” British beamed. “You’ve been paying attention to my lessons with the girls.”

  “Maybe a little.”

  “Well, then you’ll realize the reporters are sensationalizing the stories. Have you ever noticed they come out right before the brink of the summer season? I swear it’s just to scare people.”

  “Scare?” Donovan held his left hand out with his palm upward. “Warn? Caution?” he said, ticking off more synonyms of the word on each left finger with his long, right index finger. “I don’t see the difference.”

  “You don’t?” British gaped.

  “And you know what else I don’t see?”

  “What?”

  The familiar whirl whizzed over their heads. Donovan looked up in time to see what looked like a spinning fireball zoom through the air inches above his head. The gush of wind from the roller coaster was so forceful it whipped British’s hair all around her face. The ride went around and around in circles. Patrons screamed with thrills. A cell phone and a hat landed in the gated area around the base of the ride.

  “You won’t see me getting on that thing.” Donovan folded his arms across his chest.

  “Chicken,” British teased and tugged his arm loose to grab his hand. “C’mon, let’s go get on the ride.”

  Donovan stood still. “Wait...how about if we get a bite to eat from the mystery meat stand?”

  British followed his gaze to the caravan of food trucks parked alongside the town square. Serpentine lines wrapped around each vehicle. The one with the shortest line came from the truck with the sign You’ll Never Guess. Despite what she’d warned him about in the car, the smells were delicious and tempting. Donovan took a step in the direction but British squeezed his hand.

  “I can’t do that to you. Let’s go find something else to eat.”

  “See, and here I was all game.” Donovan’s shoulders relaxed and he felt the blood pump and course through his veins when she winked at him.

  “And then we’ll get on the rides,” British said with a laugh before pulling him around the festival. “Unless you’re afraid you’re going to scream and cry.”

  “I don’t cry,” he said flatly.

  Since this was the last night of the festival, everything was half off. British didn’t argue with Donovan when he stepped in front of her to pay for the tickets or for the cotton candy and corn dogs they ate while they walked around.

  Her students stopped her every now and then, and British moved off to the side to have a conference with some of the parents who hadn’t been able to make it to school so far this year. He didn’t mind. Donovan had dated some models who were also single mothers, and he’d heard how hard it was for a working mom to meet with her kid’s teachers. Of course, they’d mention this in the hope Donovan would be able to get them a full-time gig working at Ravens Cosmetics or to settle down with him and live the life of luxury.

  “I think I am the one walking around with the celebrity,” Donovan taunted when British finished with a parent and student. The on-the-spot conference had ended with the mother profusely thanking and thanking British for her patience, and British and the young man high-fiving each other.

  Under the pink glow of a ride, British blushed. “Well, I did grow up here.” As she waved her hand like a showcase hostess, her eyes widened and Donovan swore she cursed under her breath.

  “And I’m surprised we haven’t—” His words were cut off.

  “Quick.” British grabbed hold of Donovan’s hand and tugged him hard toward their first roller coaster of the evening. “Let’s get on a ride.”

  A pulse of fear jolted through him. The last thing he wanted to do was to give up his masculinity card for screaming like a child and fainting, like he’d seen on a YouTube video his sister Dana’s kids, his nieces and nephews, showed him. “Wait, what?”

  Fortunately for him, every death-defying ride British dragged him to had lines. The folks of the town had come out in droves. Donovan sighed in relief at the Ferris wheel. The ticket-taker ripped their tickets in two and lifted the plastic rope for them to enter.

  The available cart was a two-seater and Donovan did not mind. Without giving it much thought, he stretched his arm around British and heat rose from her shoulders to the crook of his elbow. Donovan rested his long legs against the foot rail. The compartment rocked forward. British sat on the inside, using his body as a shield from someone in the crowd.

  “Are we sure this is safe?” He turned his light brown eyes toward her.

  “You’re afraid?”

  “Nah,” Donovan chuckled and sat back in his seat. “I rank placing myself in unnecessary danger right up there with jumping out of a perfectly functioning airplane.”

  “You can skydive over in Peachville,” British offered. “I mean, if you want.”

  “I don’t,” he replied quickly. The sounds below grew quieter. The occasional roar of the fireball roller coaster and screams from the other rides rang out.

  “So who were you hiding from?”

  Chapter 5

  British had hoped Donovan hadn’t noticed her paranoia. Spotting Cam in the parking lot had set off a chain reaction. Cam, she could handle, basically because he’d been leaving as they’d pulled into the lot. No, the biggest fear for British had been her family, whose calls she still hadn’t bothered returning since she arrived at Magnolia Palace. With the Thanksgiving holiday rapidly approaching, her mother hounded her for confirmation that she would be coming over to the house.

  As the baby of the Woodburys, British had grown up with a mother and four other brothers and sisters who thought they were her parents. It was only a matter of time
before they all ran into each other at the festival. British spotted her six-foot-tall mom by the basketball game shooting hoops and racking up on the prizes with three giant teddy bears already, probably one for each granddaughter. At least, up high in the air, British was out of earshot and eyesight of Joan Woodbury...just not Donovan’s questioning stare.

  “If you must know who I am trying to avoid,” British said, licking her lips and tasting the sweet leftover sugar from her cotton candy, “I am hiding from my mother.”

  Donovan closed his eyes and nodded. “Completely understandable.”

  British glanced up to see a smirk competing with the grin across his face. When she did, she elbowed him.

  “What?” Donovan asked mockingly. “I always get on death traps to avoid my mom.”

  “I’m not avoiding-avoiding her,” British replied. “I am just...well, um, not ready to bump into her.”

  “Because you’re with me?” Donovan asked, his hand covering his jawline while his fingers absently brushed against his visible scar.

  The vulnerable stroke touched British and she felt sorry for him. Didn’t he realize how sexy it made him? The question astonished her and her heart lurched in her chest.

  British twisted her wedding ring around on her finger. Just because she was widowed, that did not make her blind. The words of her mother-in-law rang in her head, which British shook. British wanted Donovan but not in a long-term way. If he wanted more, well, then Donovan was not the man for her. But she didn’t want him to think it was because of his scar. She’d just traveled down the marital road before and once was enough.

  “Not necessarily,” British said. “With Thanksgiving coming up, I haven’t been in the mood for being around family.”

  “Oh yeah, I keep forgetting,” said Donovan. “I need to make a note to myself to have Ramon send the skeleton staff working home on my dime.”

  “You’re in the generous mood,” British said.

  “Maybe the holidays put me in one,” he answered. “Why does it have you in a sour one?”

  “Christian loved everything about the Thanksgiving week.” British sighed.

  The Ferris wheel moved a notch. Donovan wrapped his hand around her shoulder. “This time of year must be difficult and you probably want to be left alone.”

  “Not alone, just not smothered. Christian’s been gone for five years and every holiday my mom and siblings treat me like I am a child, so I ditch them whenever I can. Does that sound weird?”

  “No.” Donovan shook his head. “Trust me, I needed to get out of South Florida without letting my family know what was going on in my life.”

  “Bad breakup?” British guessed. He confirmed his answer with a quick nod. She imagined some poor girl clinging to his pant leg as he tried to leave a room.

  “Not only bad,” said Donovan, “but caught on camera.”

  British’s hands flew to her mouth to cover her half laugh and half gasp. “What?”

  “My sister insisted on having the family become more public so our brand could gain traction on social media,” Donovan began. “This somehow was turned into a reality television segment on all of us. My portion happened to catch my current...” He gulped down whatever word followed and even turned a sickly olive color.

  “Girlfriend?” British supplied and wiggled her brows. “Is it so hard to say the word?”

  “‘Girlfriend’ sounds so committed.” Donovan shivered. “We only knew each other for a little over a month.”

  “A month?” British’s mouth gaped. “Don’t you believe in love at first sight?”

  “That would imply I believe in love.”

  Disappointment rose in British’s chest. There’d be no love between them. But then again, that might just be what she needed. “A month is plenty of time to fall in love, though.”

  “No, I think I’m going to give women two before I even consider it.”

  Even though British felt the idea of a romp in the hay with Donovan was what she might need to satisfy this uncontrollable urge she felt when she was with him, that disappointment bubble lingered in her chest.

  “But, truthfully, I almost brought her with me this weekend until...” Donovan started to continue but stopped himself.

  I’m glad he didn’t.

  “I’m glad I didn’t,” Donovan said, seemingly reading her thoughts. “I wasn’t too sure about things with her. I thought maybe if we came here together I’d know where things were heading. I’d even made plans for her parents to meet us for Thanksgiving dinner. I guess that says a lot about me.” Donovan chuckled at himself and looked down at British. She gave him a frown. “I’m sorry. I just dodged a bullet by having to hang out with them. My family is crazy enough. I don’t need to add to it.”

  The Ravens family drama was public knowledge. There’d been an attempted family corporate takeover or something and a long-lost daughter coming back into their lives to save the day.

  “Two months or not, I don’t think she would have made the cut to be my...” His words trailed off and the hue of his skin turned greener than when she’d teased him about going on the upside-down roller coaster.

  British nudged her elbow against his solid rib cage. “Aren’t you too old to think girls have cooties?”

  “Not cooties, but ulterior motives.”

  The fact he didn’t finish what the current girlfriend had or hadn’t done did not go unnoticed. So what was the relationship now? He was here in Southwood, alone, and she was elsewhere. British rolled her eyes, mad at herself for the surge of jealousy. “I guess I fell into that category.”

  “As in a girlfriend?” he sang with a grin.

  “Oh, be serious.” British leaned her weight forward and tilted their cart.

  “All right, now.” Donovan unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders and grabbed hold of the bar with his large hands until his knuckles turned white. “Stop before you make us fall.”

  British stopped and laughed. “I’m sorry. That was horrible of me.” She turned in the seat, pulling the inside of her sole into her left knee to better face Donovan. “I’ll stop.”

  “You’re a rotten girlfriend.” Donovan drawled the word with a teasing smile and let go of the bar to face her. She gave him a death stare matched with narrowed eyes and pinched lips. “Oh, so you’re not a girl that’s a friend?”

  “You sound like my students,” British chided.

  “Given the fact you just commented on my age, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  Just then they reached the top of the Ferris wheel. It gave British the opportunity to show Donovan the sights of the town starting with the Four Points Park, which united their neighboring towns—Peachville, Black Wolf Creek and Samaritan—over their treetops. Though British had no idea how long Donovan planned to be in Southwood, she promised him that summertime not only offered the sweetest smells with the peach orchards but also a fabulous light show from the firefly forest. And until now she hadn’t realized Donovan’s arm rested around the back of her seat, resting on her shoulders—or that she’d nestled herself against him.

  “And out yonder, right next to the middle school, is the high school,” British said, pointing in the distance.

  Donovan cleared his throat. “Is that where you and Christian met?”

  Not sure how to answer, British glanced upward. “I’ve never been on a date where a man wanted to hear about my husband.”

  Grinning under the stars, Donovan looked down and winked. “So we’re on a date.”

  “Oh... I...” She was stumped to find the words. Maybe if she lifted the lap bar she could escape this awkward moment. They weren’t that far off the ground.

  “Relax.” Donovan squeezed her shoulder. “I’m just giving you a hard time. I get what you’re saying—you wouldn’t date a guy like me.”

  “Shut up,” British laughed.r />
  “Relax,” said Donovan again. He pulled her close. “You’re from a small town. I get it. You’re widowed and I’m guessing being seen with me is going to get people to talk.”

  “Again, not just people, my family. My nosy family,” she added.

  “I think somewhere in there you did not deny being attracted to me,” he teased.

  British gulped and shuddered at the same time. “I’d have to be blind to not see you’re attractive. I just...”

  “Seriously,” he went on, “I am not trying to get married or anything. Not now, not ever.”

  A sharp pain pierced her heart. “Don’t knock it until you try it.”

  Now it was Donovan’s turn to shudder. “I’ll pass. I am too old and I’m set in my ways. I’ve heard my sisters complain about their in-laws and having to feel obligated to spend time with them over the holidays. If I don’t want to be around someone, I just don’t deal with them anymore.”

  “What a shame. Being a perpetual bachelor seems so lonely,” British said, her lips turning into a frown. Her heart ached listening to him. “I loved being married. There’s something comforting about coming home at the end of the day to someone waiting for you, eager to hear about your day, even if you know your time together might be limited.”

  There was no questioning his curious look so British shared a story about Christian, about how they’d met and his heart problems—including about their time being ironically living life carefully, only to be cut short due to a deer in the middle of the road. British couldn’t believe how easy it was for her to open up about Christian. And she appreciated him not coddling her or feeling sorry for her, either. In turn, Donovan shared what it was like to grow up in a famous family and never knowing if he could trust the women who claimed they saw past the scar were interested in him, or secretly out for a modeling job or his fortune. It didn’t make her feel good about coming to Magnolia Palace to butter him up. The poor man never came across a woman who didn’t want something from him.