Memories Under the Mistletoe Read online

  She hadn’t heard him come in, and he wanted to keep it that way.

  He turned around and headed back out of the barn as quietly as he could, flinching when a few horses neighed as he passed them. Cowardly? Maybe. But he didn’t want to dance around all that awkward this early in the morning.

  He thought he was free and clear, only to hear her call out his name when he was only two or three feet from the double doors he’d just entered.

  Busted. He closed the distance to the door, and with one hand on the knob, he waved at her with the other. “Morning. Thought you were George. Surprised to see you up and cleaning stalls this early in the morning.”

  “I couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d get a little fresh air and some peace and quiet.”

  “Fresh air in a working barn?”

  She smiled and shook her head. “Well, I hadn’t planned on cleaning out stalls when I’d come out for my fresh air, but I heard the horses and came to pay them some attention. Then I saw that the stalls needed cleaning.” She glanced at the stall she’d been in. “I haven’t cleaned a stall in years.”

  “So what’s bothering you that you can’t sleep?” He figured he had an idea, if that look on her face last night had been any indication.

  She shrugged. “Everything. Nothing.” She looked down at the strewn hay on the floor of the barn. “It was just rough seeing everyone laughing and acting like family last night. I guess I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

  Funny how he could read her so well after all these years. “You know, you can write in South Dakota, too, if home is what you want.” He closed his mouth, wishing he’d have done it ten seconds ago and left it shut. When she looked up at him, he knew before she uttered one word that she was through discussing it. He’d gone too far, suggesting she come back home. It wasn’t his place, and it crossed the invisible line drawn between them. Somewhere between friendship, love, lust…if he didn’t know where she fit into his life a decade ago, how was he supposed to guess where she fit now?

  She didn’t. She didn’t fit into his life at all.

  “Tim isn’t going to be able to make it today. Mike called mom and said he’d be unable to make it, too, so I told mom I’d fill in for them,” she said, changing the subject.

  His brother called and cancelled? Before he could get to wondering why, he took her cue, also dismissing what they’d been talking about as if they’d never brought it up. “There’s no need. Brian, George and I have it covered. We don’t need that many people.”

  “So you don’t want me there?”

  He shook his head, worried he’d hurt her feelings. “No, that’s not it at all. I’m just saying it’s really cold outside and you’re not used to it, so if you’d rather not help, it’s not a big deal.”

  It wasn’t until she smiled that he knew she’d been teasing him. “Actually, I want to help. I’d like to take some pictures at some point, to show on the blog that work doesn’t stop in the country just because it’s the weekend or near a holiday. Getting a picture of that wreath on the barn is on my list of things to do today too. I just want the lighting to be right.”

  Sophie had mentioned last night, while they were all playing cards, that whatever Mel was writing on the BDI blog had driven traffic to the Café’s website and helped her to sell several items from her online shop. “What you did for your mom’s website was thoughtful.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  Maybe he was, but he wasn’t rude enough to say it. “Listen, about the cattle drive, you don’t have to help. It’s cold and you haven’t herded in quite a while. Might as well just leave it up to us.”

  She cocked her head to the side and narrowed her eyes. “Leave it up to you men, you mean?”

  “Your city is showing,” he said, finding it hard to keep a smile off his face. “You know there’s nothing wrong with my suggestion. Just stay in a warm house where you belong. Be a good woman and cook us some grub for dinner for when we get back from doing all the heavy lifting.” He held in a snort and managed to keep a straight face, though it was difficult. Damn it was difficult. She had to know he was teasing.

  “I can so do that. I know you’re a steak and potato man. I can whip you up a ribeye, and make sure to top your baked potato with some butter and sour cream. All the fixin’s. Maybe even a sprinkling of chives.”

  He knew where she was going with this. “Sounds good to me.”

  “Little bit of chives, a sprinkling of shredded cheddar cheese, and some ground-up laxative.” She rubbed her stomach. “Yummy.”

  He let go of the doorknob he’d been holding onto and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. “Where’d you get that mean streak from? Your mama sure doesn’t have it.”

  “I had to keep up with my brothers somehow or they’d have tortured me.”

  Now that was a stretch. They’d been rough on her for sure, but they’d also been the most protective pack of brothers he’d ever seen. He’d never told Mel that George had cornered him in this very barn once, when they were in high school, and warned him to treat his sister with respect—or else. Hell, even little Brian had got in on the Sister Protection Unit, threatening John with physical violence. “I think you held your own when it came to them. But seriously, if it’s too cold out—"

  “I’ll be fine. Besides, a picture of a hot cowboy working the ranch will definitely draw in some readers.” She laughed at her own little comeback, and then, when what she’d said dawned on her, her face went absolutely crimson.

  The only other men besides him were her brothers. He smiled. She’d inadvertently called him hot, and by the new color of her skin, she’d realized it the same as he had.

  “I’ll let George and Brian know you’re here,” she said, her words tumbling over one another. She grabbed a broom that had been set against one of the stalls and then tripped over a pile of hay. “If you want, I bet there’s still some breakfast. You don’t even have to knock. I mean, you probably know that already. You’re here all the time. I guess. I mean, my mom and I don’t discuss you or anything. I’m going to stop talking now.”

  He shook his head, grabbed the doorknob once again, but this time he had a smile the size of Texas on his face. “I’ll head over and let them know I’m here,” he drawled.

  She nodded and disappeared into the stall again, her face still as red as the bow on the wreath hanging over the barn doors.

  Chapter 8

  There were several things Mel was not used to doing, and leaving her cell home because of the extreme cold was one of them. According to Brian, ten degrees would kill the battery life, so she’d left her cell safely on her dresser, right next to the obnoxious prom picture of her and John. Another thing she was not used to doing was sitting in a saddle. She hadn’t been on a horse in several years. Not that you could forget how to ride, but there were muscles being stretched and pulled that even Pilates didn’t touch. She wasn’t going to walk away from riding for a half a day without feeling it. She should have just rode the Gator like Brian was doing.

  But at the top of the things-Mel-hasn’t-done-in-a-while list was riding alongside John, and having to deal with all the strange feelings he brought out in her. Some good, some bad, some familiar and others foreign. She was beginning to become accustomed to feeling out of place, even though she’d never felt that way with this particular group of people before.

  So she’d been gone for a while. Big deal. A lot of people moved away from home and set down roots elsewhere. Perhaps she’d start to get more comfortable around everyone today. In fact, she was already getting so comfortable around John she’d slipped up big time.

  Just thinking about that hot cowboy comment earlier brought warmth to her cheeks—her cheeks being the only warm part of her body at the moment. It was absolutely frigid outside. She was not in any way, shape or form used to these kind of temperatures. The little snippets of time outside—like when she left the house to get into the car—hadn’t prepared her for being outdoors this early in t
he morning, nor for this extended length of time. She hadn’t acclimated to these temps at all. During that impromptu football game she’d been running for her life, and she’d kept somewhat warm that way, with only her fingers and toes suffering.

  It was only seven thirty in the morning in South Dakota, five thirty back in California. She’d texted Liam and told him what she was going to be doing for most of the morning, but he hadn’t texted her back before she’d left the house. It was Saturday. Unless he was working for a special client, he usually didn’t get up as early as he did throughout the week, which was promptly four thirty in the morning so he could hit the gym for CrossFit. She’d have to wait until she got back to the house to see if he’d responded.

  This morning, like yesterday morning, there was a fine layer of fog hovering just above the fields. The trees were covered in a sheet of paper-thin ice, and the ground crackled under the horse’s hooves, roughly breaking the silence of the morning, along with the Gator. Everything seemed so brittle and beautiful. Frozen. When the sun came up, the light would catch all of that ice and make things shine and glitter. The trees and their bare branches, the stacks of haybales, the fence posts—the combination of ice and sunshine would make even the most mundane, ugly thing beautiful. There were times in the dead of winter when everything was so gorgeous you could almost forget it was the most hated time of the year for Northerners. When the sun rose this morning it would be one of those times.

  Being back home had given her more of an opportunity to smell the roses instead of merely trying to beat traffic to Starbucks. Being out here had put her on pause—something that cost most city dwellers money, which made it something they didn’t do often. Sure, people went to see movies and had dinner, but when it came to nature, they usually relegated themselves to the zoo or a quick ski trip to Tahoe.

  John maneuvered his horse closer to hers and pulled down his ski mask. “How are you holding up?”

  Her pulse sped up and she chose to ignore the way her breath hitched the closer he got.

  She hadn’t exactly been prepared to come on this cattle drive. Before they’d left the farm, John had gone to his truck and produced a ski mask and warmer packets that put out heat after you broke them.

  The ski mask he’d loaned her was both a blessing and a curse. It kept her face generally warm, but it was itchy, and the more she breathed behind it, the more it felt…soggy. She had on three pairs of socks—one pair being thermal—steel-toed insulated boots, thermal underwear, and the two heating packs that John had thoughtfully given her in each glove. She was also snuggled into the jacket he’d originally loaned to her, but had now gifted her, because he refused her money. It was keeping her much warmer than her designer jacket ever could have under these conditions.

  She was so packed into everything she could barely move. She turned her head to look at him, but her shoulders and neck didn’t much move under the layers she was buried under. “I’m good.”

  The skin around John’s eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he shook his head at her.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Nothing,” he answered, shaking his head again and looking forward once more. He wore a light brown Carhartt jacket, black leather gloves, and his black thermal facemask came to rest just below his chin. He sat on the horse with his back straight, reins held loosely in one hand, his other hand resting on his thigh.

  He looked every inch the cowboy that was going to turn her blog article into sales for the magazine, which in turn was going to land her that office she so desperately wanted.

  Earlier he had shoved that thermal facemask down to talk to Brian, and she’d almost taken a picture of him. He wore his black cowboy hat, and had looked every inch the rugged cowboy fantasy that a lot of city girls visualized, and a few male strippers tried to pull off.

  She wasn’t sure what they’d think about that beard of his, but it least it was short.

  Beard or no beard, she’d get her picture, one way or the other. And it was going to be of John.

  She wondered what he was smiling about. Was he laughing at her? She glanced down at herself, thinking maybe she’d spilled her coffee on herself earlier, but she didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. “What?” she repeated.

  “I just didn’t think you’d get on a horse in this kind of weather and ride with us. You surprised me is all. This says a lot about your character.”

  The whole idea behind this little adventure was to capture some pictures and help out because her mom had two no-shows. Not wanting to take her super expensive camera out in this kind of temperature, her mother had given her an old digital camera to take along. “All it says about my character is that I work for money. I’m going to need some action shots for the blog I write for. I don’t want everything in my blog series to be about twinkling lights and hot mugs of cocoa. I thought getting a shot of one of you on horseback chasing down some cattle might create a buzz. My boss wanted rustic country, but I highly doubt she thought I was going to jump on a horse and round up cattle.”

  “I remember.” He cast her a sidelong glance, a smirk tugging his lips. “Hot cowboy, right?”

  She quickly changed the subject. “So are you going to be at the hardware store on Christmas Eve for all the festivities?”

  If he wondered why she’d changed the subject so fast, he didn’t mention it. “Yes. Mike said he’ll be there, but he’ll also be out with Sarah, taking her around to the other businesses. When the fire truck comes around he’ll want to get a picture of her on Santa’s lap. I’ll probably be stuck at the shop. I also have to hang the mistletoe.”

  He looked at her when he mentioned the mistletoe. Good Lord. She turned to stare straight ahead and ignored the flash of heat that took over the middle of her gut. “My mom already hung hers. Did you get the candy for the kids already? Don’t want to forget that. Candy and Santa. That’s what the kids look forward to.” Keep it up, Mel. Adding all those extra words will bury that first sentence of yours and all the memories that come with it.

  Yeah right.

  “Mike took care of that. All the goodies are sitting on our desk.”

  She could tell he was still looking at her. Could see him out of her peripheral vision. She wondered if he were thinking about their first kiss under the mistletoe? She’d certainly never forgotten it. That was the night they’d become boyfriend and girlfriend. The night it all started.

  Well, if she’d thought she wouldn’t be warm in ten-degree weather, she’d been mistaken.

  _______

  She remembered.

  John sat forward in the saddle once again, a smile hidden under his itchy ski mask. Didn’t take but five seconds for his smile to fade. Sure, she remembered their kiss under the mistletoe—but she sure seemed to want to forget it.

  Hell, when they were younger, and he’d made the decision to start college in January—since he’d graduated high school early—she’d started to back off slowly. It never mattered what he’d done after that. Even driving for hours just to attend her birthday party, he’d been met with a cold shoulder and a conversation that had lasted less than five minutes. She’d quit returning his calls.

  Besides all that, he’d turned eighteen that second month of college, and she’d just turned sixteen. Personally, he hadn’t given a rip about their age difference. Wasn’t like they were sleeping together anyway. But in society’s eyes, she’d just become hands off.

  He’d never minded waiting for her, though, and she was the type of girl you waited for. He’d known that from the beginning. He wasn’t one of those fools who followed hormones instead of his brain. Her brothers would have killed him if he had. So yeah, he could wait for her. They’d had their whole lives ahead of them, or so he’d thought.

  And then she’d moved to California to attend college there. It was as though she wanted to get as far from him as possible.

  The cattle came into view as they crested a small hill, and he forced himself to stop thinking of what might have been.
Hundreds of cattle, their puffs of breath visible in the early morning light, littered the white landscape like flakes of black pepper. And damn, what a sight it was. The sun’s rays skimmed over the horizon and caught on the ice particles that had latched onto the dormant grass, stalks and trees. Their little world in Pine Grove looked like heaven on earth. In a fraction of a second, everything that surrounded them shone and sparkled as though someone had thrown a light switch. The scene was breathtaking.

  He sidled up to Mel’s horse once again and pulled his mask down. “Bet you don’t see that in the desert of Southern California,” he said, almost more to himself than to her, unable to take his gaze off the scene before him.

  Mel brought her mare to a halt next to his. “No. I don’t,” she said, her voice muffled from the mask she refused to move from her mouth.

  For a few seconds they stayed where they were, enjoying the scenery. Then she said, “You know what could make this even better?”

  If you didn’t hate me? “What’s that?” He figured she’d say Starbucks or some other lame thing that city folk just couldn’t live without. One of his cousins had moved to the Twin Cities a few months ago and said he absolutely loved it compared to the desolate country. Which was fine. Not John’s cup of joe, but to each their own. Mel? Mel seemed to like skyscrapers and shopping convenience to fields and familiar faces. So he couldn’t imagine what would make this better to her way of thinking, but he doubted he’d agree with it.

  “Nothing.” Mel nudged her horse, her gaze still on the scene in front of them, and fell into a trot as he watched her go.

  He’d never been one to sit and bemoan bad things that happened in his life, but lately, with Ben gone, he’d been doing just that. Now his attention was focused on the woman who had long ago gone missing out of his life. Where would they be right now if she hadn’t gone to California?