Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas

“Okay.”

He washed his hands, picked up his cookie again and chose a paintbrush from those assembled beside the colorful cups of frosting. He watched Wendy dip her brush into the yellow icing and paint the bell she held a bright yellow, then switch brushes to add red icing to create a bow. He mimicked her movements, except he dipped his brush in blue. He covered his cookie in pale-blue frosting and painted the bow shape at the top white.

Harry approved it with a smile. “I like it.”

“I like it, too, but you know what? I’m kind of getting hungry.”

Wendy said, “Let me finish up here and I’ll make hamburgers.”

“Actually, I make a great hamburger. You said your gas stove will work, right?”

She nodded. “That’s how we made these cookies.”

“Then you guys just go ahead and keep painting. I’ll make burgers and by the time you’re done, dinner will be ready.”

Wendy smiled. Cullen’s heart tripped over itself in his chest. Now that they were in a comfortable environment, he’d begun thinking of things a little more normally. But that wasn’t necessarily good. Instead of envisioning off-the-wall images like sparkling angels when he looked at her, he was now thinking how he’d like to kiss the lips that had pulled upward into a smile. They were a soft reddish color. Untarnished by lipstick or gloss. Very real. Plump. Tempting.

But that was wrong. They’d be working together for the next weeks. Visions of angels were one thing. Actually wanting to kiss his employee was another. Anything he said or did could turn into a sexual-harassment suit. He had to stop this and stop it right now.

He walked to the refrigerator and pulled out the hamburger. “What’s going to happen to everything in your refrigerator if the power stays out for a long time?”

“If we don’t open the refrigerator often, lots of it will be okay. Plus, I have blocks of ice in the freezer for times when this happens. It acts like a big cooler. Everything in there will stay frozen and I can put the important things from the refrigerator in there, if I need to.”

“You’re pretty smart.”

Holding a cookie she’d just painted with bright-red frosting, she laughed. “Yeah. Right.”

Happy to have their minds back on work, he said, “You are. All your performance appraisals say that.”

“You read my performance appraisals?”

“I read your file this morning. You are my administrative assistant for the next four weeks. I figured I’d better know who I was getting.”

“Oh.” She placed her cookie on the aluminum foil that lined the far end of the island and reached for another one. “So, how did you learn to cook?”

He grimaced. “Our housekeeper taught me.”

“That’s right. Your mom was the last company president.”

He nodded. “My dad owned an investment firm and my mom ran the factory, so my parents were overly busy. Our housekeeper was the one who fed me, nudged me to get dressed, drove me to school…” He pointed at the stove. “And taught me to cook. Nothing fancy, just the basics. Eggs. Hamburgers.” He shrugged. “That kind of stuff.”

“So that makes you pretty handy to have around the house.”

He laughed. “And also a good roommate for everybody in college.”

“Where did you go to school?”

He could tell she was only making casual conversation, but he nonetheless felt odd, as if he were bragging and he winced. “Harvard.”

“Ah. Right.”

“Where’d you go to school?”

“Community college for two years, then I met my husband and realized I could be an administrative assistant while he did his internship at the local hospital. When he died, I probably should have gone back for a degree.” She shrugged. “But I just never found anything I wanted to study.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.”

With her focus on choosing the next cookie to paint, Wendy shrugged again. “It’s all right.” She said the well-practiced words easily, but the emptiness that shuddered through her contradicted them. Still, as she’d told Harry, she shouldn’t dwell. She’d moved on. Gotten tougher, smarter. “It’s been two years since Greg died.”

Surveying the cookies to be painted, Harry casually said, “Cullen’s mom died this year.”

Wendy spun to face the stove. “Now, I’m sorry.”

“As you said, it’s all right. She actually died in January. So my dad and I are pretty much beyond it.”

Finished patting the hamburgers into shape, Cullen poked through cupboards, looking for a frying pan. Wendy watched him, feeling a shift in the funny catch she got in her heart every time she looked at him. Hearing about his mom’s death reminded her that he was as human as everybody else. But was it really good to begin seeing him as a normal man? Wasn’t it wiser to continue thinking of him as a super-good-looking but unapproachable playboy?

By the time the hamburgers were ready, Wendy and Harry had finished painting their cookies, and laid them on the island to dry. Wendy pulled paper plates from the pantry and handed them to Harry.

“Since we’re not sure when we’ll get power again, it’s probably a good idea for us not to dirty too many dishes.”

Harry scurried to the round table in the corner of the room and arranged the plates in front of three chairs. Cullen set a platter of hamburgers in the center.

Wendy found the plastic cutlery and carried it to the table along with a bag of hamburger buns and a bag of potato chips. “We can eat reject cookies for dessert.”

“Sounds good to me,” Cullen said, pulling a seat up to the table.

But Harry stopped him. “I want to sit there!” he said, shifting Cullen to the left, to the place beside Wendy.

Wendy looked over at the little boy. He didn’t seem upset. He seemed to genuinely want the seat on the end. So she said nothing. They passed the hamburgers and buns around the table, then the chips. Pale light filtered in from the windows in the top half of the back door. The sun was setting.

“I think I might need to get a candle.”

“Do you want some help?”

“No, I’m fine. I just have a feeling it’ll be dark before we’re done eating.” She rose from the table and found the big round candles and matches she kept for times the electricity failed. She lit one of the fat beige candles, set it between the hamburgers and the chips and took her seat again.

As they ate, the light from the window faded and the candle’s light replaced it, creating an unfortunately romantic glow. Wendy stole a look at Cullen. He was stealing a glance at her. A sizzle of electricity arced between them. Time stood still as they simply stared into each other’s eyes.

“My head looks like a watermelon,” Harry said with a giggle, pointing at a shadow cast by the flickering candlelight.

Wendy laughed. It was exactly the comic relief they needed. “So does mine.”

Cullen turned to see the wall behind him. He laughed. “So does mine.”

Harry settled into his seat again. “I like this.”

One of Cullen’s black eyebrows rose. “Eating in the dark?”

“No. Laughing.”

Wendy glanced at Cullen, again just as he looked at her. This time, instead of chemistry sparking between them, understanding did. This little boy had spent the past months of his life not doing anything, not going anywhere, probably never laughing.

Cullen rose and unexpectedly grabbed Harry, hoisting him over his shoulder and tickling the strip of belly exposed when his T-shirt rose. “Yeah, well, if you like to laugh so much how about this?” He tickled him again and Harry giggled with delight.

Wendy’s heart melted in her chest. Never in a million years would she guess somebody like Cullen could be so perceptive, but he was and she was grateful.

“I have a good idea,” she said, rising from the table. “Why don’t we throw away these dishes and take the cookies into the living room? The fireplace is already lit. We’ll put our sleeping bags down on the floor and make popcorn.”

Cullen swung Harry to the floor. “Or we could tell ghost stories.”

As Harry’s small feet touched down he said, “Ghost stories?”

Cullen smiled evilly. “Oh, I know plenty. I spent some time in Gettysburg.”

Harry’s nose wrinkled. “You were in prison?”

Cullen and Wendy both laughed. Wendy said, “No! Gettysburg is a famous battlefield. But rather than ghost stories,” she said, giving Cullen a look, hoping he’d understand, “why don’t we tell funny stories?”

Harry jumped up and down. “I love funny stories!” Then he raced out of the kitchen, toward the living room.

Obviously realizing his mistake, Cullen rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “Sorry. I forgot his mom just died or I never would have mentioned ghosts.”

“That’s okay. I’ve slipped up a time or two myself today.”

He glanced around. “Have you got any marshmallows?” Dipping into the pantry and then out again, she displayed a bag of fat white marshmallows. “I always keep a bag on hand in case I ever want to make s’mores.”

“We’ll start toasting those over the fire and tell funny stories and he’ll forget all about the ghosts.”

Wendy smiled her agreement, but her smile faded when he turned away, gathered the catsup and mustard and walked to the refrigerator as if it were very normal for him to be in her kitchen. In a way she supposed it was. This had been his home. But she had the oddest feeling that he was right where he was supposed to be.

And so was she.

Blaming that feeling on the fact that they both called this house home, she shook her head, told herself to stop acting like an idiot and carried the marshmallows to the living room where Harry eagerly awaited her.

They spent the next hour roasting marshmallows and teasing Harry. Then Cullen realized he’d not only have to sleep in his uncomfortable clothes; he’d also have to wear them the next day unless he went to his car.

Wendy grabbed two flashlights from the kitchen and met him at the front door.

“Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“It’s a ten-minute walk to my car, remember? I hadn’t yet checked into my hotel, so I can grab my duffel bag and be back in twenty-two minutes.”

As he spoke, he smiled down at her, and she suddenly knew why she kept getting these odd feelings. In the office when he was Cullen Barrington, owner of Barrington Candies, he was an unapproachable playboy. But here in this house where he was comfortable, with a little boy he couldn’t resist being kind to, she was seeing a side of him she would bet few people—if any—had ever seen. And she was beginning to like him.

She quickly looked away and stepped back. She didn’t want to like this guy. At least not romantically. This time next month, he’d probably be on a beach or in a casino. There was no sense forming an attachment. But more than that they came from two different worlds, saw life two different ways, probably had totally opposite beliefs about most things. Liking him was just wrong.

“See you when you get back.”

He opened the door and pointed at his Italian loafers. “Wish me luck.”

Wendy couldn’t help it; she laughed. “Luck.”

While he was gone, Wendy went to the storage room and found the two sleeping bags that she and her husband had used on camping trips. Because there were only two, she grabbed blankets from the linen closet and brought them along, too.

After she and Harry laid the open sleeping bags on the floor to serve as a cushion, they covered them in blankets. She took Harry upstairs, helped him wash up and eased him into his pajamas. On the way back to the living room they stopped in the library and found a tattered copy of A Christmas Story.

By the time Cullen returned, she’d begun reading it aloud to Harry. Cullen took his duffel bag upstairs and returned dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Not interrupting her reading, he slid under the blanket on the other side of Harry. She read a few chapters until Harry’s eyelids began to droop and eventually closed completely.

Wendy slid the blanket up to his chin. He snuggled into the pillow.

She glanced over at Cullen and whispered, “This wasn’t exactly how I’d hoped our first night would turn out.”

“This was your first day with him?”

She nodded.

He laughed softly. “I don’t think Harry minded.” He pulled in a breath. “And I have to thank you, too. I’d have been sleeping on your boss’s lumpy couch tonight if you hadn’t come to my rescue.”

“It’s nothing.”

“No, another employee might have been too intimidated to invite me. I appreciate that you not only opened your home, but you didn’t make a big deal of it.”

Cullen rose from the makeshift bed and tossed another log on the fire. Levering his hand on the coffee table, he lowered himself to the floor again, but as he pulled his hand away he jarred the table enough that the silver bell decoration in a Christmas flower arrangement rang.

Hearing the bell, Harry squeezed his eyes shut even more tightly.

Please, let Miss Wendy and Cullen get married and adopt me.

He made the wish quickly, just as he had the other two times he’d wished.

The first time he’d wished they’d get married and adopt him had been at the door of Miss Wendy’s work, when she’d slipped on the ice. He’d seen her and Cullen look at each other funny like Jimmy Franklin’s mom and dad looked at each other, and he knew they could be a mom and dad. His mom and dad. So he’d wished and when he was done wishing the bell rang.

Then, when she came back from getting the radio, she and Cullen had looked at each other funny again, he’d wished again and church bells had rung.

He snuggled more deeply into the pillow, a plan forming in his head. What if he made the wish every time he heard a bell ring? He’d tried to wish that his mom would get well and that wish hadn’t worked. But maybe that was because he didn’t have a bell? So this time, he’d wish every time he heard a bell. And maybe his wish would come true.

CHAPTER FOUR

WENDY woke first. Sunlight poured in from the big window behind the sofa. Guessing it was probably around nine o’clock, she sat up and her back protested.

“Floor’s not the most comfortable place to sleep,” Cullen whispered.

“You can say that again.” She pulled in a breath and smiled ruefully. “My coffeemaker’s electric, but if you’d like some tea, we can make that.”

“Anything with caffeine is fine.”

She rolled over to lift herself off the floor. On the other side of Harry, Cullen did the same.

While Cullen went upstairs to change out of his sweatpants and T-shirt, Wendy boiled water for tea. He returned to her kitchen dressed in dark trousers and a black-and-beige-striped sweater. Her stomach took a tumble. He was so damned good-looking.

She turned back to the stove, poured boiling water over tea bags in two cups and brought them to the table.

“You were very good with Harry last night,” he said.

“You’re no slouch yourself.”

He laughed. “Thank you.” He toyed with his tea bag. “So what’s the story with him?”

“Right after he and his mom moved in next door, his mom was diagnosed with cancer.” She dipped her tea bag in and pulled it out, testing the strength of her tea. “I started visiting once a week to see if she needed anything and soon I was helping her get through chemo. Eventually I was doing pretty much everything at her house.” She smiled at the memory. “Including reading Harry a story every night and tucking him in.”

“So social services considered you a good candidate to take him in while they look for his dad?”

She snorted a laugh. “Not even close. His mom gave me custody in her will.”

“Oh.”

Cullen’s voice was full of such happy surprise that Wendy shook her head. “Don’t get excited. His biological father has first right to custody no matter what Betsy’s will says.”

“But I can tell you’d really like to be the one to raise him.”

She nodded. “I think I could be a great mom. I already love Harry and the thing he needs more than anything right now is just plain love.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have children of your own.”

She licked her lips, so tempted to be honest and confide in him. But she knew the bond they’d formed over the past twenty-four hours was an aberration, so she’d tell him the basics and keep the heartache to herself. “My husband and I were waiting to be more financially secure to have children.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, holding her gaze as if he knew there was more and waited for her to admit it. When she stayed silent, he said, “So the bottom line is your arrangement with Harry is only temporary.”

The fact that he didn’t probe or push relieved her as much as disappointed her. She supposed she secretly hoped he wanted the bond, but not pushing her to elaborate proved he didn’t.

“There are lots of ways this could play out. They could find his dad and his dad could take him. Or they could find his dad and he could tell them he doesn’t want Harry—”

Cullen’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t want Harry?”

She shook her head. “Harry told me he hasn’t seen his dad in so long he doesn’t remember what he looks like. He thinks he’s in prison.”

“That’s not good.”

Avoiding his gaze, she bobbed her tea bag in and out of the hot water in her cup. “In any event, I have him until they find his dad.”

He caught her gaze. His dark eyes were serious and sincere. “That’s too bad. I think you’re a good pair.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

The kitchen became silent as Wendy pulled her tea bag from her cup and added milk and sugar. After taking a sip, she said, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

She shrugged. “I might not have spilled the entire story of my life, but you now know things lots of people at the plant don’t know. I think it’s only fair you tell me something about yourself so we can keep each other’s secrets.”

“Honestly, there isn’t much to tell. When my parents finally retired, five years ago, they moved to Miami with me, and my dad and I started a small investment firm.”

“You have a job?”

“Of course I have a job.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just pictured you in Miami boating, going to parties, taking private jets to Vegas to gamble.”

He laughed. “I can still do all that. Rather than create a big firm like my dad had here in Pennsylvania, we kept our Miami firm small. I make appointments when I want them. Schedule myself off a lot. So your guess isn’t too far off the mark.”

She said, “Ah,” and their gazes caught. The sizzle from the day before returned. But this time they both knew it was pointless. He was a strong man who clearly arranged his life the way he wanted it. Just as her late husband had done. Because Greg was so determined, so forceful, so focused, so sure of what he wanted, she’d lost the opportunity to have what she wanted…children with him. She vowed she’d never get involved with that kind of man again.

Plus, she might be bolder now, but she was still a small-town woman whose fondest wish was to get custody of the little boy next door. Even if she wanted to take a risk with her new-found independence with someone as clear about his life goals as Cullen seemed to be, she was too simple, too average to fit into his extravagant, exciting world.

They couldn’t be further apart if they tried.

The refrigerator motor started. The microwave beeped. The kitchen lights popped on.

Wendy pulled away from Cullen’s gaze. “Talk about timing.”

He laughed and glanced down at his half-empty tea cup. “Yeah.”

“So, are you ready for coffee?”

He shook his head. “I’ll get some on the way to the office.”

“Do you want me to come in?”

“I’ll be fine.” He rose from the table. “If Harry’s awake I’ll say goodbye.”

She nodded. Cullen turned and walked out of the kitchen.

Wendy put a pot of coffee together and dropped four slices of bread into the toaster.

A few minutes later, Cullen returned to the kitchen, carrying his duffel bag. “He’s still asleep.”

“I’ll tell him you said goodbye.”

“Okay.” He turned and headed for the foyer and the front door. A polite hostess, Wendy followed him.

He faced her with a smile. “Thanks for everything.”

Her nerves spiked with the sense that his leaving was all wrong, even though she knew it wasn’t. There was no reason for him to stay. No reason for her to ask him to stay, except that she enjoyed his company, and they’d already figured out there was no point to that.

Wendy pulled in a breath. “You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She nodded.

He caught her gaze. She smiled slightly. He didn’t seem to want to go any more than she wanted him to. A second spun into ten; ten seconds stretched into half a minute. Finally, with their gazes clinging, he lowered his head and touched his mouth to hers.

She wasn’t so much surprised by the fact that he’d kissed her as she was by the power in one brush of his lips across hers. The electric sparks they’d been throwing to each other for the past twenty-four hours all congealed and shot lightning through her.

He slowly pulled away, his eyes bright, his expression as dumbfounded as she felt.

“I’ll see you at the office tomorrow.”

She whispered, “Okay.”

And then he was gone. He wouldn’t be this warm, this open, this honest with her at the candy factory. She’d never see this Cullen Barrington again.

Wendy was glad for the distraction her curious six-year-old provided. She let him help make eggs and toast for breakfast, then bundled him in his jacket and mittens and took him to the mall.

“What are we shopping for?”

She smiled down at him. “I have three brothers and a mom, so every year I buy each of them a Christmas gift.”

“Cool.”

“If you’re still with me at Christmas, I’ll be taking you to Ohio with me for the holiday.”

His blue eyes widened. “Out of town?”

She laughed. Everything was an adventure to this child. “Yes.”

“Cool.”

She laughed and he tugged on her hand to get her attention again.

“Do you think we could buy a bell for Creamsicle?”

“A bell for Creamsicle?”

Behind the brown-framed glasses, Harry’s big blue eyes blinked at her. “Yeah.”

“Why do you want him to have a bell?”

He tilted his head. “Because it’s Christmas?”

“Oh, a Christmas bell!”

He smiled. “Yeah.”

“I’m not sure he’ll wear it, but he does wear a collar. So why don’t we look for a new collar with a bell?”

Harry nodded eagerly. “Okay!”

They found a bright red-and-green collar for Creamsicle, complete with a small red sleigh bell. Harry tucked the little bag into the pocket of his jacket with a smile. They shopped for another hour, ate dinner at a local fast-food restaurant and returned home.

Harry immediately yanked the cat collar from his jacket pocket. “Here, Creamsicle!”

“He’s not going to come,” Wendy said.

Harry ignored her, running to the steps and calling upstairs. “Come here, Creamsicle!”

A few seconds later the rotund orange-and-white cat came thumping down the steps. At the bottom, he wound around Wendy’s feet, then Harry’s.

Wendy smiled. “He likes you.”

Harry peered up at her. “I know.” He crouched down and tried to work the buckle on the old collar.

Wendy stooped down beside him. “Here. Let me. I forgot how old this collar was. It was probably time to replace it anyway.”

She made short order of the old collar and helped Harry slide the new one around Creamsicle’s neck. The cat nudged them both as if saying thanks, and walked away.

Harry frowned. “It doesn’t ring.”

“It’s a small bell. So Creamsicle will have to do something like jump for it to ring.”

The little boy considered that then grinned. “That will make it special when it rings, right?”

“Exactly.”