Beneath the Mistletoe: Make-Believe Mistletoe / Christmas Bonus, Strings Attached

Bobby Ray leaned back into the recliner and raised the footrest. He pulled a blanket over himself and settled in more comfortably, making the chair frame creak. “Good night, y’all.”

Lucy started to lay her blankets on the floor in front of the fire, but Banner put a hand on her arm to stop her. “Take the couch. I’ll bunk on the floor.”

She shook her head. “I’ll be fine here. You go back to the couch.”

“No.” The firelight played across Banner’s mulish expression. “You’ll be more comfortable on the couch. The floor’s fine for me.”

His hand was warm on her arm, even through her clothes. She could think of plenty of ways to ward off the cold with Banner—but not in front of Bobby Ray. Her cheeks going hot in response to the unbidden thought, she cleared her throat. “You’ve already made up the couch for yourself. I’ll just—”

A loud sigh erupted from the recliner. “Lucy, will you get on the couch? I’m pretty sure Banner’s more stubborn than you are, and this argument could go on for a while.”

“Sorry, Bobby Ray,” she murmured, and gave in—mostly because she suspected the truck driver was right about who was more stubborn.

A few minutes later Lucy was settled on the couch, and Banner and his dog lay on the floor in front of the fire, Banner in the sleeping bag he’d spread on the couch earlier. Bobby Ray snored rhythmically in the recliner, having fallen asleep almost as soon as the room got quiet again.

Even though Banner had taken the pillow he’d used before, Lucy was still too aware that he had recently been on the same couch where she now lay. It was silly, of course, for her to feel as though she could still detect the heat from his body radiating from the thick cushions.

Something about Banner sent her sadly neglected libido into spasms. She didn’t know if it was the way he looked—or the way he looked at her. It certainly wasn’t his sparkling personality that drew her. But there were other things about him: his awkward attempts at hospitality, his low-key and decidedly offbeat sense of humor, his skill in the kitchen…

She couldn’t help wondering about his skill in other rooms.

An exasperated sigh escaped her as she hid her face in the pillow in an attempt to smother that thought.

Banner lifted his head to look her way. “Lucy? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” she whispered back, squeezing her eyes closed and ordering herself to go to sleep.

Maybe all that ice had given her a case of brain-freeze, she thought. She was quite sure she would have herself completely under control again by morning.

After a restless night Lucy woke early, the tantalizing scent of coffee tickling her nostrils. The fire still crackled steadily, providing warmth and light, but neither Banner nor Bobby Ray were in the room.

She didn’t like waking up in strange surroundings. She felt grubby and rumpled and disoriented—her hair a mess, her face pillow-creased, her clothes wrinkled. She snatched up her duffel bag and made a dash for the bathroom, wanting to put herself to rights before Banner saw her—or any of the others, of course, she added quickly.

She took a very quick shower, using as little hot water as possible since there were so many others in the house. She was glad Banner had a gas water heater. She spent barely fifteen minutes in the bathroom, emerging with damp hair and a minimal amount of makeup, but she felt much better. At least her teeth were brushed and she had on fresh socks and underwear and a clean Christmas sweatshirt with the jeans she’d slept in.

Stepping out of the bathroom, she nearly tripped over the motley dog that sat in the hallway, apparently waiting for her. “Did you want the next shower?” she asked him wryly.

He gave her a goofy grin and a flick of his scraggly tail in reply, then followed at her heels as she made her way back into the living room. Someone had opened all the drapes while she’d been in the bathroom. It was still gray and cloudy outside, but at least some light came in through the large windows.

She paused to look outside at the frozen landscape. Ice covered everything as far as she could see, glittering like freshly polished glass. Beneath nearly every tree lay a pile of broken limbs, and the evergreens were bent almost double beneath the weight of the ice. It was like being inside a snow globe.

Christmas Eve, she mused. It certainly looked the part outside. But it didn’t feel right, not being with her family today.

Sighing, she turned and walked toward the kitchen.

Pop and Miss Annie sat at the table, both looking much more rested than they had the night before. Banner stood at the stove, skillfully flipping pancakes, while Bobby Ray served coffee for the older couple. Joan and the kids hadn’t yet made an appearance.

Bobby Ray and the Carters smiled when Lucy walked in. Banner didn’t, but he gave her a nod of greeting. “Pancakes?”

“Yes, please.”

He handed her an overfilled plate. “Syrup’s on the table.”

“Thank you.”

So much for little pleasantries like “good morning” or “did you sleep well?” She reminded herself that she’d been confident that seeing him again in daylight, in all his grumpy glory, would put last night’s silly fantasies right out of her mind.

So much for late-night confidence, she thought, studying the back of his gorgeous, grouchy head with a silent sigh.

The others welcomed her to the table. “Quite a night, wasn’t it?” Bobby Ray asked, setting a cup of stove-perked coffee in front of her.

Since the big trucker’s enthusiastic snoring was at least partly responsible for Lucy’s restless night, she gave him a crooked smile. “Yes, it was. Miss Annie, did you rest well?”

“Slept like a log,” the older woman replied. “I guess I was more tired than I’d thought. I didn’t even know the power went out until I woke up this morning.”

Bobby Ray stood at the back door, looking through the glass at the frozen vista on the other side of the narrow back porch. “I haven’t seen this much ice since the winter of ’99. Some folks went without power for days—weeks, even—back then.”

“Are the phone lines still working?” Lucy asked.

Bobby Ray nodded. “I’ve already called my boss this morning.”

“Did you get an update on the roads?”

“The temperatures today are predicted to be just above freezing. There could be some melting this afternoon, but any standing water will freeze again tonight. Though it’s supposed to be warmer tomorrow, it will be after noon, at the earliest, before it will be safe to travel.”

Lucy thought longingly of her aunt’s Christmas Eve open house—the crowds of friends and family, the food and drink, the carols and laughter. It would be the first time she had missed it since she was a child.

She was sure the others were just as anxious to be with their families today—all except Banner, she temporized with a glance across the room at him. What was his story, anyway? Was he estranged from his family? Or just, as he had claimed, in no mood for holiday travel?

“Maybe if we drive very slowly and carefully…” Pop began, his gaze on his wife’s disappointed expression.

“Don’t even think about it,” Bobby Ray said flatly. “I’ve been driving these roads for years and they’re dangerous enough when they’re wet. Add patches of ice and you’ve got a disaster waiting to happen. You saw me hit the ditch yesterday. First time I’ve done that in years.”

To Lucy’s relief, Pop didn’t argue. He merely nodded in resignation and patted his wife’s hand.

Before anyone else could speak, Joan and the children entered the room. It was obvious at a glance that Tricia had been crying. Her face was red and streaked with tears and her lower lip was still quivering. Tyler didn’t look much happier. His head hung and his shoulders drooped as he followed his mother into the kitchen. Joan tried to smile for the benefit of the other adults, but the smile didn’t reach her brown eyes.

It was a very unhappy trio, Lucy thought with a surge of sympathy. No child should look so sad on Christmas Eve.

Banner looked at the family, then reached again for the pancake batter. “There’s milk in the refrigerator. With the door closed, it stayed cool enough. We might as well drink it before it goes bad.”

“We put some of the perishable stuff outside in a big cooler,” Bobby Ray added. “It’ll probably stay cold enough out there to keep anything from ruining too quickly.”

Without saying a word, the children took their seats at the table. Tricia climbed onto the bar stool she’d sat on the night before. Their mother set plates of pancakes and glasses of milk in front of them, and they began to eat without enthusiasm.

Miss Annie studied the children compassionately. “Did you sleep well?” she asked them.

Both nodded without looking up from their breakfasts.