Blame It on the Mistletoe (9 page)

“Mr. Johnson,” he said dryly.

“Seriously? He lives down the street from my parents. How did I not know that?” She laughed and walked over near the door to pull her coat off a peg. He still hadn’t turned to look at her, and the edge in his voice made her wary. She was wondering what the hell had happened to him in the last few minutes. She pulled on her gloves and wrapped a scarf around her neck. “Well, I’m ready.”

Slowly he turned away from the window and looked at her. His face had gone hard, a line between his brows, but as he took her in his expression softened.

“Brooke”—he swallowed like his mouth was dry, and she couldn’t help relishing in the fact that he appeared to lose his composure—“you look … amazing.”

“Thank you. Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. Let’s go.” He picked up his coat and headed for the door. As they went down the stairs, Brooke fought the butterflies in her stomach. It was so crazy that quiet nerdy Brooke Abbott was going out with Alex Coleman. Never in a million years would she have ever dreamed this would happen. No, that wasn’t exactly true, she’d dreamed about it all right, but in the same way someone dreams about turning into a fairy princess or becoming famous and singing on stage in front of all the people you know. The kind of fantasies that were private, impossible.

But this one was happening.

**

Alex was having a hard time keeping his eyes on the taillights in front of him as they headed over the Missouri River into downtown Kansas City. Whenever he glanced her way, Brooke was biting her bottom lip, like she was trying not to smile. It was incredibly distracting. She had amazing full lips, and tonight she wore bright red lipstick. It only served to make him think about kissing it off her.

Back at her place he’d looked out on the town and imagined selling the building and wiping his hands clean of it all. He had a feeling that there were plenty of people in town that wouldn’t want a developer messing with Main Street, but what did he care? Those were probably the same people that had seen him as a white trash troublemaker. It would feel good to stick it to them and to his grandfather who’d chosen not to sell for whatever reason.

He still hadn’t quite accepted that the old man had left him something, anything. What was his motivation? He’d scoured every paper that Ted had given him, but found nothing. No note, no information. Just normal paperwork related to the building. He was surprised to see that it was built in 1892. It was somehow fitting that Brooke sold old stuff in an old building.

Damn it, he hated hearing how much she loved it. She even had fond memories of it from her childhood.

In the time it took Brooke to shower and get ready, he’d convinced himself that he owed her the truth, that he now owned the building and she’d better start making arrangements. But then he’d looked at her and all he wanted was to get his hands on her, to see her smile, to have a good time this evening. He wanted that more than anything, and he’d swallowed the truth in that instant.

She’d looked so beautiful and so happy. Sweet, innocent little Brooke. He could still picture her at the Abbotts’ kitchen table doing homework or playing in the orchestra at school. She was always cute, but not in the way that really got a boy’s attention. She was more the soft-spoken, helpful, caring type.

He could still remember freshman year when he and Ryan had snuck out to toilet paper Lisa Dickson’s house because she’d told on them for cheating on a final. They’d separated after the deed was done because Officer Turner had spotted them. After making his way back to the Abbotts, thirteen-year-old Brooke had let Alex sneak in her window and then lied to her father when he’d come to investigate the bang Alex made as he entered. He’d been hiding in her closet the whole time, the girly scent of her clothing and personal items filling his nose. When the coast was clear he’d kissed her on the cheek in thanks for her silence, very aware of her little pajama outfit and the fact that she was no longer a kid. It had been the first time he’d noticed that she was no longer just Ryan’s baby sister.

But never had she been the kind of girl he would mess with—she was pure and he was Alex Coleman. And now, knowing that some asshole had mistreated her was like a blow to his gut. He wanted to go back in time to protect her. Better yet he wanted the guy’s name, address, and place of employment so he could track him down and make him regret he’d ever heard the name Brooke.

“KC has a pretty skyline,” she said beside him, pulling him back from his troubled thoughts. Whatever had happened to her, it wasn’t happening now, and he was thankful. She was happy tonight, her smile evident even in her voice.

He gripped the steering wheel and forced himself to focus on where he was going. The glittering lights of the buildings dotted the horizon. “Yeah, it does. It’s not a big city, but it’s nice.”

“What’s it like in Oregon?”

“It’s beautiful. I live and work in the mountains where it’s green and peaceful.”

“What do you do there?”

“In the winter I work at a small resort owned by an army buddy of mine. We take people on hiking tours. It’s fun,” he offered up. “There’s this zip-line descent through the forest that’s pretty cool.”

“Are you serious? That sounds amazing. Is it scary?”

He chuckled. “Not for me. You should have seen what I did in the military. Makes that zip line look like a playground toy.”

“I can imagine. So why don’t you do that in the summer?”

“In the summer I work on a seining boat in Alaska. That’s actually crazy beautiful too.”

She turned her body and he glanced her way quickly, trying to focus on the road, but she was giving him a you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me look. “Do you mean a fishing boat? Like, on TV, dangerous stuff?”

“I guess so. I haven’t seen the show, but if I recall it’s about crab boats. Those are more dangerous.”

“But still, is
that
scary?”

“Yeah, sometimes I guess. But I’m used to it by now. And it’s never boring. Very monotonous, but there isn’t time to be bored or even scared. I’ve done it since the year after I left the army. Good money, but I’ve probably only got a couple years left in me.”

“Wow, that’s so amazing. Alaska, huh? What kind of fish do you catch?”

“Salmon.”

“I love salmon.”

He laughed. “Good. I’m glad somebody does.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope.”

She leaned back into her seat, mouth open. “That’s ironic. So you’re a professional hiker, fisherman, and zip-liner who used to be in the army. What
don’t
you do, Alex?”

“A lot of things.” Relationships, family—and honesty apparently. That was a new one, and he didn’t like it, but how did he tell her that he was considering robbing her of her pride and joy. He really wanted her to keep talking so he didn’t have to think about that right now. “Do you come downtown often?”

“Not really, I’ve gone to the West Bottoms a few times for First Fridays. The vendors there are amazing. It’s totally inspirational for me as a shop owner. It doesn’t hurt that they have those gorgeous old buildings to work out of. I love it when a community chooses to revitalize something historically valuable and not just need everything to be all new and shiny.”

He felt her glance his way but couldn’t look at her this time. He just nodded. Her passion for the subject put him a little on edge, considering the circumstances.

Brooke went on. “I think that’s what I love about Preston—the history. Sometimes early in the morning, it’s quiet and you can hear the rushing of the river nearby, and the train whistle. … It’s like you could imagine Main Street a hundred years ago. Anyway, repurposing is kind of my thing. There is so much beauty in old things.”

He really didn’t know what to say and, damn, he had no witty reply to turn it back to flirting, so he just gave her a quick smile.

“I know I sound ridiculous,” she said.

“Never. You sound passionate.” And what the hell was
he
passionate about? Working hard, maybe. But besides his desire to stay alive in the military, or prove himself worthy of being a Coleman, he’d never found something to be that excited about.

“I guess I am. I love taking something forgotten or old and making it beautiful.” She’d said something to that effect before, and he wondered if it was a personal mantra.

They drove in silence for a few moments as he navigated through the densest section of tall buildings and headed down Broadway toward midtown.

“Feel like the Plaza?”

“Of course! I wondered where we were going. I haven’t been since I moved back.”

She was excited, and he felt the pleasure of that in his chest. He wanted to please her; those smiles were their own reward. He continued on and he heard her breath catch and she sat up in her seat as they pulled into view.

“Oh my. I’d forgotten how gorgeous it is.”

The Country Club Plaza was an entertainment district famous for adorning its old Spanish-inspired buildings in thousands of Christmas lights. Horse-drawn carriages, designer shops, and lots of amazing food made it a huge attraction around the holidays.

They pulled into a parking garage, and he helped her from the car. When they found their way to street level, she looked up and turned in a circle taking it all in—the lights, the architecture, the soft sound of Christmas music emanating from somewhere. She turned back to him, her wide eyes reflecting the brilliance of the blue lights lining the building above them. The pure joy on her face made his chest ache.

“I love it here,” she said on a sigh. “This
feels
like Christmas.”

“I’m glad you like it. Am I forgiven for our first botched date?” he inquired.

She scrunched up her nose and laid a hand on her stomach. “Not yet. I’m still hungry … but your prospects are looking good.”

They began walking and he risked grabbing her small, gloved hand. It was crowded after all, they needed to stay close. He was surprised and pleased that she let him without even a glance in his direction; she was too busy soaking up her surroundings, and he was happy to just watch her. She looked so beautiful.

They dodged families, couples locked together, and loitering teens. The crowd was thick, and he loved that it was a good excuse to keep her close to him. He loved it even more that she didn’t seem to have a problem with it.

Visiting the Plaza in Kansas City at Christmastime had been an annual Abbott tradition when Brooke was young, but being here with this sexy man—and not just any sexy man, but the one of multiple high school fantasies—made Brooke giddy. This night was a fantasy all in itself. She wished she could film the experience and play it back like a movie over and over again. If she could travel through time and tell her thirteen-year-old self that this day was in her future, her younger self would have given her a very annoyed “
Whatever
.”

Her favorite part was that Alex had obviously put thought into this evening. It was … romantic, and she wasn’t sure what to think about that. At the moment, her senses were completely overwhelmed in the best possible way: the jingling of a donation bell, the laughter of families shopping, the aroma of a fancy tea shop as they passed. The beautiful holiday store window displays were topped only by the glow of the Christmas lights that lined every building.

And all of that paled in comparison to the warmth of Alex’s fingers entwined with hers. She had been pleasantly shocked when he’d grabbed her hand, and yet it had seemed the most natural thing in the world. It hadn’t made her uneasy at all, which was amazing and frightening at the same time. She couldn’t help be grateful that her gloves covered up the tiny calluses and burns that marred her hands and fingers. She loved making jewelry, but the repetitive use of tools, including a soldering iron, did a number on her fingers.

The clip-clop of horse hooves tugged her attention to a team pulling a lit-up Cinderella carriage, the cozy couple inside sipping from a warm mug. How lucky they were. She couldn’t contain her grin; it was a beautiful place, and the holiday spirit was palpable.

“Oh … goodness.” She stopped walking and hesitated a moment to glance inside a store window featuring her favorite designer handbags. It was decorated so beautifully for the holidays with warm lighting and bold colors. She was used to only dreaming about bags like those through a computer screen these days. And while she didn’t want to be the girl that forced him to look at purses …

“Come on, let’s go in.” Alex tugged her hand and led her through the door into the coziness of the shop.

And she was instantly in heaven.

Leaving him at the front door, she went from one display to the next, feeling the leather, admiring the colorful fabric linings and metal buckles. The saleslady offered her help, but Brooke politely declined knowing that browsing was all she could afford. She made her way to the jewelry and watches, loving the rose gold bangles and pendant necklaces. She’d had a thing for this particular designer for a while, although she’d never owned a piece. It was a “someday maybe” dream. She picked up a tiny polka dot lipstick case and tried not to visibly balk at the seventy-five-dollar price.

She felt a hand on her lower back and stood a little taller when he leaned into her ear from the side, his breath warm on her cool skin with his whisper. “These are new and shiny things.”

She laughed and gently put the lipstick case back in its place. She looked up at Alex, his face so close to hers made the rest of her body heat. His cologne was musky, and his eyes were full of humor. She really needed to stop thinking about how sexy he was. “Yes, they are, and I’m still a girl. Girls love purses, and jewelry, and pretty things. New
or
old. I’ll admit, when it comes to fashion I can be a little bit of a hypocrite.”

“Just a little, but I forgive you because I’d hate to see an old dusty dress on this body.”

She couldn’t help laughing, and she loved how openly he gave compliments. She was a woman, and it felt good for a man to think she was attractive.

“Are you gonna buy that?” He jerked his chin at the lipstick case.