Читать книгу The Trouble with Mistletoe - Jennifer Snow, Jennifer Snow - Страница 9

CHAPTER TWO

“Since when is Luke Dawson interested in owning an old sporting goods store?” Victoria asked her mother an hour later.

Sheila Mason bent to look through the glass of the oven door. Her light blond hair, streaked with gray, was tied in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck and fell over one shoulder. The rich aroma of her chicken-and-mushroom casserole filled the kitchen. “I don’t know, dear.” The timer on the oven rang and she hit the off button on the stove.

Victoria paced the kitchen, biting her thumbnail. Her perfect manicure didn’t stand a chance of surviving the week.

“Stop biting your nails.” Her mother smacked her hand away from her mouth. “Can you hand me the oven mitts?” Opening the oven door, she fanned the blast of escaping heat.

Victoria opened the same kitchen drawer where the mitts had been for as long as she could remember. Nothing had changed here. From the antique table-and-chair set in the corner that had once belonged to her grandmother, to the lace curtains hanging in the tiny kitchen window, everything looked just as it always had. Even the advent calendar hung in the same spot on the wall near the window, where it had year after year. She remembered how excited she used to be on the first of December when they would fill the tiny squares with chocolate balls and count down the days until Christmas Eve. Despite the absence of children in the house now, her mother still kept up the tradition.

Victoria handed the mitts to her mother. “But I thought you said he was working for an architecture firm? And he usually worked out of town.” So many unanswered questions.

“I really don’t know. The store does mean a lot to Brookhollow.” Her mom shrugged, taking a knife from the block on the counter. “You’ll have to ask Luke those questions,” she said, cutting into the casserole.

Victoria’s stomach growled. “Since when have you become so tight-lipped?” she asked pointedly. Her mother would be the first one to admit she couldn’t keep a secret. She prided herself on being a source of information in town, even if that information wasn’t always accurate.

“Are you calling me a gossip?” Her mother faked an expression of shock. She set the knife in the sink and rinsed it. “Look, all I know is what I hear around town’ You know Darlene Dawson and I don’t talk much anymore.”

Victoria sighed. Her ignorance about what was going on locally couldn’t be blamed on her mother. She’d done her best to distance herself from the everyday happenings in Brookhollow. Over the years, she’d been successful in convincing herself that she wasn’t missing much. She grabbed a fork and sampled the casserole. “Oh, my God, that’s good.”

Her mother swiped her hand away. “Don’t pick. Your aunt and uncle should be here any minute and then we can eat.”

Her dad swung open the kitchen door and poked his head inside the kitchen. “Luke’s truck just pulled into the cul-de-sac.”

“What? You invited Luke? Mom, you can’t be serious.” Victoria dropped her fork onto the counter and turned toward her father. “And you—how could you not tell me?”

“I had nothing to do with it,” he said, quickly escaping the kitchen.

Turning, her mom set the dinner plates onto the counter and said, “Oh, relax. I saw him earlier today, replacing the burned-out bulbs in Ginger’s Christmas lights and he said he was looking forward to seeing you again, so I invited him to dinner.” Her mother shrugged.

“Mom, he is my ex-fiancé, in case you’ve forgotten. Not to mention my company is working for the store trying to buy out Legend’s.” She paced back and forth in the kitchen, frowning. How could her mother have invited him to dinner? How could he accept knowing the reason for her visit? And why hadn’t he said anything?

“Business is business, honey. I’m sure you two will figure that stuff out. But can’t you just put it aside for the evening and have a pleasant dinner with an old friend? I’m sure Luke has long gotten over the fact you left him at the altar.” Her mom waved a hand dismissively and busied herself with the pie she was making. “Even if his mother hasn’t,” she mumbled, rolling out the crust.

“I didn’t leave him at the altar.” Victoria stopped pacing, wondering how many times they’d had this conversation. Too many. “I called off the wedding two weeks before and, besides, he certainly didn’t try to stop me.” Memories of those last few weeks before her supposed wedding day were painful to recall. The stress of the preparations—her mother and Luke’s mother forcing her to taste wedding cakes and try on dress after dress—even though her heart wasn’t in it. The entire time, hidden in her bedside table drawer had been an acceptance letter for an entry-level position with Clarke and Johnson Acquisitions.

When she’d applied the summer before she’d never imagined the big New York firm would accept her application—she’d had only a two-year business diploma. But they had offered her a job and she’d had a month to decide. Keeping the offer to herself and struggling with her conflicting desires had created tension between her and Luke and had made her question her commitment to him. Their ideas about a life together had seemed worlds apart.

She’d chosen the unpaid internship with a dream of a future so different from the one he’d been planning, and left him behind. And he hadn’t tried to stop her.

Her mother waved a hand. “You know what I mean. Anyway, it’s in the past. At least I’ve learned to keep it there…unlike some people.”

Victoria shook her head. Her mother was impossible, and Luke’s mother would be furious if she found out. The two women, once best friends, hadn’t spoken since the day Victoria left town. According to her mother, she’d let the feud between them die, but Luke’s mother still held a grudge. The two avoided each other as much as possible in the small community.

The doorbell rang.

How was she supposed to sit at the same table with him, after everything they’d been through? She was here to do battle with him over a store. And this was supposed to be a pleasant evening? She peered through the glass opening of the kitchen door.

Luke shifted from one foot to the other on the front porch. Wearing clean jeans and his leather jacket, his short hair gelled into a spiky, controlled mess, he’d obviously gone home to shower and change.

She made no move to let him in. Why couldn’t he have gotten fat? Or bald? Or both?

“Victoria, go take off your suit jacket and brush your hair, while I get the door.” Her mom removed her apron and straightened her sweater.

Victoria held out an arm to block her mother. “I have a better idea. You go get pretty for Luke, and I’ll let him in. He may as well get used to seeing me at my worst.”

Victoria forked a lump of potatoes and savored the rich, buttery carb combination. No one used butter quite like her mother. If she wasn’t careful, she’d pile on a few pounds in her short visit. She pushed a mushroom around her plate, only half listening to the conversations around her. Her father, Uncle Frank and Luke discussed football statistics across the table and her mother and Aunt Linda complained about the new format of the Brookhollow View, the local newspaper.

“I can never find the movie listings or my horoscope. They keep shifting things from one section to another,” Linda said, shaking her head as she wiped her mouth with her napkin.

“Uh-huh.” Sheila nodded in agreement. “And last week the flyer inserts were missing.” She turned to Luke. “How’s the casserole?” she asked as she poured him another glass of wine.

“Thank you. It’s delicious…better than I remember.” He smiled and shot Victoria a glance.

She lowered her eyes to her plate. Just get through this meal. Her mother’s attempt to create a blast from the past was working. From their favorite dinner dishes to the old picture albums of the two of them in junior high and high school she’d produced before dinner, the memories were overpowering as they came rushing back.

The last thing Victoria wanted was to remember. Remember the long summer nights in Brookhollow when they would drive for miles outside of town, cut the engine and lie on the hood of Luke’s truck, gazing up at the stars. Or the fall days when they’d walk hand in hand through the leaves in the park and kiss in the shelter of the big oak tree that held their carved initials inside a heart. She’d forced those special moments from her mind years ago, replacing them with new friends, exciting work, brunches and dinners in trendy restaurants.

“So, Victoria, your mom says you still play soccer in the city,” her aunt said with a polite smile.

She nodded. “Sort of. I play on the corporate team, just once or twice a year. Usually some sort of charity game against one of our clients.”

“Well, with you on the team I’m sure they win every time,” her uncle said.

She hesitated, not wanting to disappoint him. Of everyone in her family, her mother’s brother, a retired lawyer, was by far the most understanding about her life choices. He’d told her time and again how proud and impressed he was by the success she’d had in the city. “Um…well, we’re actually not allowed to win,” she confessed with a wry grin.

“Huh?”

“Apparently, it isn’t good for business.”

Uncle Frank cocked his head. “Well, that must be tough for you with your competitive spirit.”

She laughed and admitted, “Yes, it is.”

“What about your volunteer work—do you still keep that up?” her aunt asked. She didn’t pause for an answer. “You know they still have that Adopt-A-Grandparent program you started years ago at the seniors’ complex.”

Victoria glanced at her mother. “Yes, Mom mentioned that.” The Adopt-A-Grandparent program seemed to be the last thing she’d done that her mom was truly proud of. Victoria had had the idea for a seniors’ visitation program when she’d been to see her own grandparents as a teenager. She’d always stay much longer than planned, playing cards or watching movies with some of the other residents without family nearby. The idea of asking other kids from the school to visit along with her had started small, with just a few of her close friends baking cookies to deliver or helping plant flowers in the complex garden, but then it quickly grew into a larger program organized by the school principal.

“You were always up to something…could never sit still for long.” Linda chuckled.

“From what I remember, you were quite the handful sometimes, too,” Frank teased her.

It was to be expected that her uncle would bring up her long-ago antics. Despite her visits to Brookhollow over the years, she hadn’t spent much time with her extended family. Whenever she came to town for weddings or funerals, she stayed a day or two at most—the only time her busy work schedule would allow. A pang of regret hit her then. She should have tried harder to find the time.

She blushed as her eyes met Luke’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I do,” her father piped up. “Should I remind you of the time you snuck into the science lab at the school and rescued all those rabbits you thought they were planning to use for experiments?”

Linda, a tenth-grade math teacher at the school, chuckled. “I remember that. The school had agreed to house them overnight while the local pet shop painted the bunny room. It was the only place in town big enough to keep all of them.”

Victoria winced as the others laughed. How was she supposed to have known? If the science lab had in fact been planning to use them for experiments, everyone would have praised her good deed. Instead she’d gotten a suspension for breaking the lab window. “I still think Mr. Douglas was up to no good,” she said. The twelfth-grade biology teacher had always seemed strange to her.

“Mr. Douglas is a vegetarian. He’d never hurt a fly.” Her aunt shook her head and wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye.

“I think my favorite was when you and Rachel tied yourselves to that big maple tree in the park, to save it from being cut down,” remembered Uncle Frank.

“That would have worked…if it had been the right tree,” she mumbled.

Another fit of laughter erupted around her.

Her mom stood and collected the empty dinner plates.

“Mom, sit. Let me clean up,” she offered, her chest tight. Please, let this be the only family dinner on this trip. All this talk about her childhood antics was taking its toll. No one seemed to recognize that she wasn’t that kid anymore. She’d actually made something of herself in the city. She no longer had time for volunteer work and sports…but it was because she was accomplishing great things. It was hard to feel proud of her success in the city when her family and friends in Brookhollow only seemed interested in her adolescent ventures. Collecting the plates from her mother, she pushed through the swinging kitchen door with her hip. She set the plates on the counter near the sink and leaned against it. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket. Oh, thank God. Her service must be back. She reached for it. A new text from a Brookhollow area code.

Do you need help escaping through the kitchen window?

Tension seeped from her shoulders and a genuine smile formed on her lips for the first time that day. She glanced from the kitchen window to Luke.

Now do you understand why I stay away?

Luke smiled as he responded. You’re even prettier than I remember.

She blushed, caught off guard by the compliment. Her thumbs flew over the keypad.

Nice try, but flattery won’t work. Hitting Send she folded her arms across her chest. His smoldering, deep blue eyes were merely a speed bump on her way to another successful acquisition.

She fought to hide a smile as she read, Meaner, too.

Taking a sip of wine, he sat back in his chair.

Not mean, just determined to do my job.

Waiting for his reply, she turned and filled the sink with dirty dishes. Her parents still refused to install a dishwasher in the old home.

The phone vibrated on the counter and she reached for it.

No matter what it takes?

She hesitated. There wasn’t much she wouldn’t do for her career. After working from a junior associate to her current position, busting her butt with long hours, extended trips, living from a suitcase, never having time for anything else—including a real relationship—failing wasn’t an option.

No matter what. Don’t stand in my way, Luke.

She peered through the window watching as he read and replied.

Don’t think I’ll step aside quite so easily this time, Victoria.

Her heart pounded as she turned away. Were they still talking about the store?

Setting the phone aside, she scraped the dirty plates into the garbage can and stacked them in the sink. A moment later, out of the corner of her eye she noticed Luke pacing the back porch. He’d excused himself to take a call, and she tried to tamp down her curiosity.

Luke smiled, and she watched his moving lips, wishing she could read them.

Her mother hadn’t mentioned otherwise, so she’d assumed he was single. But then again apparently her mother couldn’t be trusted as a source of information about Luke anymore.

Of course he must have someone special in his life; he was gorgeous. She wondered who it could be. Every single woman in town would be vying for his attention. She bit her lip, watching as he picked up a shovel on the deck and, cradling his phone against his shoulder, cleared a path to the stairs leading to the yard. With his back to her, she took the opportunity to study him. In his faded jeans and leather jacket, he looked better than ever. She’d always been attracted to him, but she hadn’t remembered him looking quite so irresistible.

Luke set the shovel aside and turned toward the window. Seeing her watching him, he waved.

Victoria’s cheeks flushed, and the wet dinner plate slipped out of her hands. She caught it before it hit the floor. Quickly, she turned her attention back to the sink.

A moment later, the back door opened and Luke appeared beside her. “Brrr. It’s cold out there once the sun sets.”

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded as she scrubbed the plate with a sponge.

Luke peered into the sink over her shoulder, his warm breath on the back of her neck. “I think those little pink flowers are supposed to stay on the plates.” He picked up a dish towel.

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ve got this.” She laid the plate in the drying rack and motioned for him to give her the towel. “Go into the living room and relax with my parents.” Or leave. Either would work. She just wanted him as far away from her as possible. Spending time with him was proving difficult. Beyond the physical improvements, he was even kinder, funnier and more familiar than she could have imagined.

“No way. It’s the least I can do for supper.” He moved the towel out of her reach and picked up a handful of forks from the drying rack.

His cell phone rang in his shirt pocket and he checked the caller ID. He slid the phone, unanswered, back as it continued to ring.

“If you have to get that, I can finish up here.” She nodded toward his vibrating pocket.

Her BlackBerry had once again lost signal and she was eager to return to the bed-and-breakfast to catch up on missed calls and emails.

“No, that one can wait,” he said, placing the forks in the cutlery drawer and reaching for a plate. “My brother-in-law, Roy, is retiling their downstairs bathroom and he has a million questions.” He laughed. “I offered to just do it myself—it would be faster and easier.”

She hated that the sound of his laugh and the sight of his smile still had such a profound effect on her.

Luke sniffed the air. “Your mom is a fantastic cook.” Opening the oven door, he looked inside at the pumpkin pie.

“You better close that before she comes in here and catches you,” she warned, washing the last plate and setting it aside. She took the dish towel from Luke and dried her hands. “And I wouldn’t let your mother hear you say that.”

Luke closed the door and studied her intensely. “How about you? Have you acquired any new baking skills?”

“No.” Victoria had never been the culinary wonder her mother was; she’d never had the desire to learn, despite years of working at Mrs. Norris’s bakery in the summer. “I’m too busy to bake.” She shrugged and removed the apron from around her neck, hanging it on the hook near the pantry.

Luke’s gaze dropped to her waist. “Looks like you’ve been too busy to eat, too.”

She tugged her shirt lower and cleared her throat. “So, I heard about your dad’s heart attack last year. How is he?”

“Better,” Luke said with a nod. “After his bypass surgery, he’s feeling much better. It’s one of the reasons I try to spend more time here in Brookhollow now, working on local construction projects…to help out. Dad won’t admit he can’t do certain things’ I was sorry to hear about your grandma. I would have attended the funeral, but it happened so suddenly, and I was away.”

She dismissed that with a wave of her hand and said, “I barely made it myself. I flew in from an acquisitions trip to Minnesota, then took the red-eye back out.” Her maternal grandmother, her last remaining grandparent, had died from a stroke several years before. As a child, Victoria had spent a lot of time with her, chattering away as her grandma planted flowers in her garden or sitting on the porch, holding her wool as she knitted hats for the maternity ward at the hospital. After she moved to New York the two had remained close, talking at least once a week. She missed those conversations.

Her grandmother had always encouraged her to do what made her happy, regardless of what others might think.

Wiping pie crumbs off the counter onto her hand, she said, “Dad told me you helped him with the deck last summer’ That was nice of you.”

“Ah, your dad did most of the work. Even retired, he’s a fantastic contractor. Definitely knows his stuff,” Luke said. “He told me about your promotion and that you bought an apartment a few months ago. Congratulations.”

“Thank you.” Victoria’s gaze met his and she laughed.

“What’s funny?” Luke asked. But he was grinning, too.

“Just that we haven’t spoken in forever, yet we know enough about each other to write a book.”

Luke laughed. “Small towns.”

His cell phone rang again.

He took the phone out of his pocket, checked the call display and silenced the call.

“You’re quite the busy guy. Your phone rings almost as often as mine…when I have service.” She grabbed the oven mitts as the timer beeped on the stove. She took the pie out of the oven and set it to cool on the rack her mother had put out, as she made a fresh pot of coffee.

“Yeah, sorry…work.” He shrugged. “This is a busy time of year.”

“The store’s closed,” Victoria said with a frown.

“My other job.” Luke didn’t elaborate.

Victoria fought every last impulse to question him further. It was none of her business. The only thing she cared about was the store.

“Oh,” she said simply, serving the first piece of pie and pushing the dish toward him. She plated the rest and carried them on a tray into the living room, where she served them to her parents and aunt and uncle.

Her mother raised her eyebrows. “You’re not having any?”

“I’m stuffed from dinner.” Victoria faked a yawn and glanced at her watch. It had been a long day and she had work to do. “Actually, Mom, I think I’m going to head back to the bed-and-breakfast.”

Her mother glanced at the clock on the mantel above the fireplace. “I guess it is getting late. Oh, don’t forget to take some stuff I thought you might like to have from your old room.” She pointed to the box near the doorway.

Victoria cringed inwardly. Just recently, her parents had finally converted her old bedroom into a sewing room for her mother. The pink walls that used to hold posters of her favorite rock bands were now painted a light tan. Her cheerleading and soccer trophies that used to line the bookshelves were in the attic, replaced by her mother’s collection of patterns. She suspected the pictures of herself and Luke and her friends had found their way into the overstuffed box near the door and she wished she could somehow escape without taking it. She’d purposely left all of this behind.

She bent and picked up the heavy box and turned with a forced smile. “Good night, Dad.”

“Drive safe, honey. The roads are slippery,” he cautioned. He reclined the leather recliner and rested his pie plate on his protruding belly.

“I will. Bye, Mom. Uncle Frank, Aunt Linda.” She advanced toward the porch and gave a quick nod in Luke’s direction. “I’ll see you in the morning…at the store?”

His determined gaze met hers and he nodded. “You bet. You need help with that box?”

“Nope, I got it.” She struggled to open the front door, balancing the box on one arm, then stopped. There was no escaping him. She closed her eyes and sighed. “Luke…you’ve got me blocked in the driveway.”

He swallowed his mouthful of pie and set the plate on the end table. “Sorry, I forgot.” He grabbed his keys and met her at the door.

“Hey, look where you kids are standing.” Her mother chuckled, pointing to the door frame above their heads.

Victoria looked up. Mistletoe hung about three inches above them. Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me. “Forget it, Mom,” she said, shaking her head as she reached for the door handle. She doubted very much Luke wanted to kiss her, either. She took a step outside, but Luke’s grip on her arm drew her back in.

He looked amused. “It’s mistletoe, Victoria. It’s tradition.”

Her mouth gaped. He couldn’t be serious.

He moved toward her, and she took a step back. His hand tightened on her shoulder, as he lowered his head.

He is serious. Her mouth went dry, and she licked her lips. “Luke…” Her protest was muffled as his lips landed on hers.

The kiss was quick and soft, but her knees weakened under its effect. Off balance, she reached out and grabbed his arm, starting to lose her hold of the box. Luke tightened his grip on her waist to steady her as he moved away and took the box from her.

Victoria’s trembling hand flew to her lips where his had just been.

“That’s the trouble with mistletoe,” he said, his gaze piercing. “You can’t always control who you find underneath it.”

Luke jumped into his truck and slammed the door. The heat of the simple kiss made him only distantly aware of the cold air inside the cab. He slid the key into the ignition. The memories of their past together had faded over time…and then she’d come back. That’s all it had taken.

He’d had the urge to kiss her the moment he’d seen her shocked expression in the store earlier that day. But he hadn’t expected his own reaction to the kiss, which had been meant to annoy her. The joke was on him.

The woman was here for one reason—to take his store away.

His cell buzzed on the passenger seat. “Hello?” he answered, cradling the phone against his shoulder as he turned on the headlights and backed out of the driveway.

“Hey, man, where are you?” His buddy Jim Bishop could barely be heard above the loud background of his surroundings.

“Just leaving the Masons’ house.” Luke shivered, finally registered just how cold it was. The heater in the old truck was cranked, but only chilled air came out of the vents. Ice crystals formed on the inside of the windshield and he rubbed it with the sleeve of his jacket, clearing a narrow chunk of window to see out.

“What were you doing over there?” Jim yelled into the phone.

Luke cringed and pulled the phone away from his ear. “Mrs. Mason invited me to dinner and you know how much good it does to argue with that woman.”

Jim laughed. “I would love to be a fly on the wall when your mom finds out…and she will find out.”

Jim was right. His mother would know soon enough and he dreaded the conversation that was bound to ensue. “Yeah, well, try to keep the news to yourself.”

“You got it. Hey, if you’re on your way home, why don’t you stop by the pool hall? Bob’s wife let him go out tonight and Darren’s on his way.”

Luke hesitated. “Who’s on bar tonight?”

Jim laughed. “You know, if you didn’t break the hearts of all the waitstaff around here, you wouldn’t have to ask that question.”

“That’s not what happens.” Luke scoffed. “We date, we have fun, then we mutually agree to go our own ways…” Most of the time anyway. Of course there may have been women who’d been hoping for something more from him, but he’d learned his lesson about serious relationships the hard way a long time ago.

“Is that why you’re still avoiding Hayley?”

“I’m not avoiding her… I just don’t trust her to pour me a drink at the moment.”

Jim’s loud, hearty laugh came through the phone again. “Well, don’t worry, you’re safe. Melody’s on bar tonight.”

“Perfect.” Luke pulled into a driveway and turned the truck around. A few games of eight ball were just the thing to clear his head. If he’d learned anything so far, it was that he would need his resolve when dealing with his ex-fiancée. “I’ll be there in an hour. I have to stop by the house to let the dog out first.”

“Great, bring your wallet.”

“Sure. I have no problem taking your money.”