A Mistletoe Christmas: Santa's Mistletoe MistakeA Merry Little WeddingMistletoe Magic Read online

  “I don’t know a lot about being a daddy. I’ve never been one before. But I’m a fast learner, and all I need you to do is to teach me.”

  Melody sat down on the opposite side of him as Libby crawled up in his lap. “Do you love my mom?” she asked.

  “Very much,” he replied, and felt the warmth of Melody as she leaned closer against him.

  Libby placed her palms on either side of his face. “Silly man, then it’s easy to be a dad. All you have to do is love me.”

  She kissed him on his cheek and then slapped her palm against it. “That’s to keep my kiss there,” she explained.

  A rush of emotion buoyed up in his chest, and tears of happiness misted in his eyes. “I already do love you, Libby.”

  “That’s good, because I was scared before, but now I can tell you that I love you, too.” She hugged him around the neck and then climbed off his lap. “And now I’m going to do a happy Christmas dance for you and Mom.”

  Jake’s chest felt as if it might explode with joy when Melody’s hand found his. He watched as a purple-tutu-and-pajama-clad dancer kicked away the remnants of wrapping paper to make room for her dance.

  Libby began to make joyful noises with her tap shoes, and Melody’s hand tightened around his. As the angel on top of the tree turned from green to purple, Jake saw a vision of Stacy’s face. She was smiling down on him with happiness and approval.

  While he knew the vision was only in his mind, it was confirmation that he was where he belonged, in a home filled with joy and love and the magic of Christmas and Mistletoe.

  * * * * *

  A MERRY LITTLE WEDDING

  Cathy McDavid

  To Kathleen Scheibling, editor extraordinaire.

  Thank you for always being in my corner and for opening so very many doors for me.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  EPILOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  EMMA STURLACKY APPROACHED the gazebo in the center of town square, feeling as though she’d entered a storybook Christmas village. Six years away and nothing had changed. With each step she took, the sense of déjà vu increased until the chilly air became too thick to breathe.

  Her gaze traveled the length of Main Street, each image almost identical to the many in her memory. Multicolored lights illuminated storefront windows. Wreaths adorned every door. A gaily decorated Christmas tree, easily twelve feet tall, had been erected on the lawn in front of the utility company offices. Various versions of Santa and his sleigh with eight tiny reindeer sat atop roofs. Rows of candy canes lined the sidewalks.

  And, of course, sprigs of mistletoe hung in all the doorways, arches and entryways and even from the street signs, including the one pointing to the North Pole. No one could fault the people of Mistletoe, Texas, for not doing right by their favorite holiday.

  The only thing missing was soft, glittery flakes falling from the sky. Not for long, however. According to the weather report Emma had listened to on her car radio, snow was in the forecast. The town would soon be a winter wonderland. With luck, the storm would hold off until after her mother’s Christmas Eve wedding five days from now.

  She’d delayed this trip home as long as possible. Her duties as maid of honor required her to stay in Mistletoe for at least a week. Much longer than her typical semiannual hit-and-miss visits when she holed up in her mother’s house for twenty-four hours at most, then sneaked out either at nightfall or the crack of dawn. Emma much preferred it when her mother visited her, wherever Emma might be living at the moment. These days, it was outside Austin. Next month? Who knew?

  “Oh, sweet heaven! Is that you, Emma Sturlacky?”

  The loud, scratchy voice could belong to only one person. Mrs. Merrick.

  Emma was immediately enveloped in a fierce hug and the familiar scent of evergreen. Served her right for not paying attention. Despite her low profile in recent years and her change of hairstyle, someone was bound to recognize her.

  “Mrs. Merrick. Good to see you.” The greeting was literally squeezed out of her as the older woman compressed Emma’s lungs to half their normal size. The gift she’d tucked beneath her arm took a beating.

  “You were always so polite.” Mrs. Merrick finally released Emma, only to pat her cheek as if she were a child and not twenty-seven. “I think it’s long past time you called me Karen. Don’t you?”

  “All right...Karen.” The name sounded odd on Emma’s lips. It wasn’t the only thing. This whole returning to her former hometown in order to attend a wedding had left Emma off balance. She fought the urge to run back to her car and tear out of town, tires squealing.

  “Too bad you didn’t get here earlier.” Mrs. Merrick—Karen—made an exaggerated sad face. “You missed the pageant last week.”

  “Oh, darn. Maybe next year.” Not likely.

  In addition to owning and operating the area’s largest mistletoe farm with her husband, Mrs. Merrick directed the town’s annual holiday pageant—a source of great personal pride and joy for her. As children, Emma and her brother, Cole, had participated. In Cole’s case, against his will.

  “Are you heading for the bridal shower?” Mrs. Merrick asked.

  “On my way now.” Emma forced a smile.

  Any talk of weddings, especially in Mistletoe, never failed to make Emma uncomfortable. Sooner or later, someone was bound to bring up Emma’s own thwarted nuptials.

  “Why in the world did you park here?” Mrs. Merrick glared at the nearby pubic parking lot as if it had committed an unforgivable offense. “The library closed this afternoon for your mother’s shower. You could have parked there.”

  “I wanted to leave spaces available for the guests.”

  And buy herself another ten minutes, the amount of time it took to walk from the town square to the library where her mother worked as head librarian. Now that Emma had run into Mrs. Merrick, she realized the error in her thinking. Out in the open like this, she was a moving target. Within an hour, the whole of Mistletoe would learn she’d returned, including Nick Hayes. The man she’d quite literally left at the altar.

  “You do know we’re supplying the floral arrangements at the church and for the reception.” The fuzzy tassel atop Mrs. Merrick’s stocking cap bobbled as she talked.

  “Mom mentioned it.”

  “I still remember when you worked for us.”

  “Best job I ever had.” Emma gave credit where credit was due. She’d learned a lot from the older woman during her four years as a clerk, then assistant manager, in the Merricks’ farm store.

  “My goodness! Whatever is wrong with me?” Mrs. Merrick pressed a mittened hand to her throat. “We have an opening. Office manager. You’d be perfect.”

  Emma was indeed looking for a new job. Wasn’t she always? Returning to Mistletoe, however? Not an option. “Thanks, but I like my current job.”

  “Aw. Too bad.” Another sad face. “Well, I won’t hold you up.”

  “Take care.”

  Mrs. Merrick’s attention was suddenly diverted to a place behind Emma, and a huge grin blossomed on her face. “Seems to me your escort has arrived.”

  “Escort?” Emma glanced over her shoulder.

  Amazing, really, how her heart could just stop like that. Literally freeze inside her chest.

  Nick Hayes stood not ten feet away, staring at her with an expression like granite. She remembered a time when he’d looked at her with love and devotion. All that had changed when she’d called off their wedding.

  “What are you doing here?” she blurted, immediately regret
ting her outburst. Mrs. Merrick had yet to leave, which meant every second of this awkward reunion was going to be noted and relayed. Emma infused lightness into her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

  He kept his reply succinct. “Your mom sent me.”

  Oh, those eyes. Still the same vivid blue. Still the same ability to turn the bones in her knees to mush.

  Be strong, she told herself.

  “Did she think I was going to bail?”

  His brows rose. “The idea occurred to her.”

  Ow! The dig hit its intended mark. And was completely uncalled for. She might have left him at the altar, but he’d given her a heck of a reason.

  Emma straightened her spine. “I assure you, I’m on my way to the shower right this second.” She held out the squashed gift as proof, then faced Mrs. Merrick. “Nice seeing you again.”

  “It won’t be the last time.” She patted Emma’s cheek again.

  Right. Decorations. The church and reception.

  A moment later, Emma and Nick were alone. Unlike before, she was suddenly in a huge hurry to reach the library.

  “You don’t have to escort me. I promise not to flee.”

  Without saying a word, he fell into step beside her. Fine, they didn’t have to talk. In fact, she preferred they exchange as few words as possible. But five minutes into the walk, the silence was killing her.

  “Why did my mother send you to find me?”

  “I was handy.”

  “Because she’s marrying your boss?”

  “Something like that.”

  “I heard you were promoted to livestock foreman.” And that he and his boss were close.

  “Two years ago.”

  “Belated congratulations.”

  She was glad for him. Truly. Nick loved his job at the Yule Tide Ranch. They’d met soon after he was hired on as a cowhand. He’d been twenty-two. She, twenty-one and three days. It had been love at first sight, if there was such a thing. Emma had believed it. Then. Nowadays, she blamed her head-over-heels fall on youthful hormones.

  And his incredible good looks, which he still possessed. The two-day scruff on his strong, square jaw and his wavy black hair in need of a trim only enhanced his appeal. His tan Stetson was pulled low on his brow, and the Carhartt jacket he wore smelled of ranch and outdoors. A very attractive and potent combination.

  Emma had always been drawn to working men. Wait, who was she kidding? She’d only ever been drawn to one working man, and he was right beside her.

  “Don’t you usually work during the day?” she asked.

  “I’m off this afternoon.”

  “To hunt me down and make sure I attend the shower?”

  “Among other reasons.”

  As they passed a four-foot Santa outside the Four Seasons Real Estate Office, the statue came suddenly to life. Waving an arm, it sang out, “Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas.”

  Startled, Emma jerked and bumped into Nick. He grabbed her arm to steady her.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. “I should have expected that.”

  He didn’t let go.

  “I’m okay, Nick.” She raised her gaze to his. Big mistake. Looking away was impossible.

  “You sure?”

  No. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore, except that coming home to Mistletoe might be the worst mistake she’d made in a long while.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  He released her, and not a moment too soon. Next door to the real estate office was the library. Only a wide circular courtyard separated them from the main entrance. The next second, the door flew open. Gladys Givens, her mother’s best friend and another bridesmaid, appeared on the stoop.

  “There she is!” Gladys waved. “Hurry up, you two.”

  Despite the fact that Gladys’s invitation had included Nick, Emma didn’t expect him to accompany her across the courtyard and up the steps. But he did. At the entrance, Gladys gave Emma a hug of equal proportions to the one from Mrs. Merrick.

  “Here.” She snatched the gift from Emma. “I’ll take that.”

  “I guess this is goodbye,” Emma said to Nick the second Gladys scurried away.

  “Not yet.” His hand holding open the heavy door, he gestured her inside. “I’m going to the shower.”

  “Seriously?” She gaped at him before pivoting on her booted heel and marching through the door.

  This could not be happening. Nick escorting her to the shower was bad enough. Now he was insisting on following her into the library—the same place where their ill-fated romance had begun.

  * * *

  NICK STOOD OFF to the side, leaning against a bookshelf. The home and gardening section, to be exact. The study area in the center of the three-room building had been cleared and the table and chairs arranged for Candy Sturlacky’s bridal shower.

  As head librarian and Mistletoe’s unofficial expert on both the town and the plant, Candy had a lot of friends. Nick among them. He’d always liked Emma’s mother. She had been especially kind to him after Emma’s departure.

  That was how Candy referred to her daughter’s abandoning Nick at the church an hour before their wedding and then leaving town two days later. A departure. As if softening the word would soften the blow. It hadn’t.

  He swirled the fruit punch in his plastic cup, watched the blob of green sherbet dissolve, then took a healthy swig. A beer would go down a lot better. Maybe later. His glance inadvertently connected with Emma’s, who sat next to her mother amid a veritable mountain of gifts.

  Same large, soulful brown eyes he remembered. Different hair—eight inches shorter and blonder. From what he could tell, she didn’t smile much anymore. A shame, really.

  Their staring contest continued for several more seconds. She looked away first.

  Man up, he told himself, and guzzled the rest of the punch. He’d anticipated this day for the past two months, ever since his boss had announced he’d be marrying Emma’s mother on Christmas Eve. Nick had thought he was ready to see Emma again. That he was prepared.

  A stupid miscalculation on his part. The jolt he’d received when he’d first seen her standing by the gazebo had knocked him harder than any kick to the gut by a flying hoof. Kind of like when he’d first met her. Only then, he’d been hit by an entirely different feeling. One that had had him walking on air.

  Nick crushed the empty plastic cup in his fist, then stared at it. How could he still be so angry after all these years? It was asinine. He was made of stronger stuff. So she’d dumped him. It happened to guys all the time. Hadn’t he picked himself up by the bootstraps? Gone on to become one of Mistletoe’s most eligible bachelors? At least, that was what the Valentine feature in last February’s edition of the Mistletoe Herald had dubbed him.

  The article had garnered him a ton of dates. None of the woman had interested him enough to see them past a third date. Par for the course. His current relationship record, post-Emma, was a whopping four months.

  So besides being one of the town’s most eligible bachelors, he was also the town’s most notorious serial dater. He didn’t like the term, but he supposed if the shoe fit...

  A chorus of high-pitched laughter erupted, bouncing off the walls of the small room. The women were playing some sort of game having to do with how well the bride and groom knew each other. The answers were apparently hilarious, and everyone was in stitches. Well, not everyone.

  Emma would rather be doing anything else, judging by the fake smile she wore. Same for Holly, the groom’s youngest daughter. Then again, she’d made no secret of the fact that she didn’t approve of her father’s upcoming marriage.

  “Quite a hen party.” Leonard had sauntered over while Nick was preoccupied. The older man wore a grin so bright, it might have leaped off his face.

  “They
’re having fun.”

  “I’ll say.” Leonard had eyes only for his bride-to-be. “Isn’t she just the prettiest thing?”

  “You’re a lucky man.”

  “Who knew when I went to that cookout last summer I’d meet the love of my life? And to think I almost didn’t go.”

  With a population of around two thousand, Mistletoe wasn’t so small that everyone knew everybody. Leonard’s and Candy’s paths hadn’t really crossed until the day of the cookout. When they did cross, however, it was magic. Kind of like when Nick and Emma had first met.

  He’d been looking for a book on auto mechanics—the ancient piece of junk he’d driven had broken down again. She’d been studying for an online college class in business administration. Rather than leave with his book, he’d sat down at the table across from her.

  Was she also remembering? Nick cursed himself for even wondering.

  “It means a lot to me, you being here.” Leonard reached over and clamped a beefy hand on Nick’s shoulder. “I know it can’t be easy.”

  “Piece of cake. Speaking of which, I hear they’re serving red velvet.”

  “Don’t change the subject,” Leonard admonished. “You and Emma have a history. If you feel the need to cut out, don’t be—”

  “I’m not cutting out. Today or any day.”

  Leonard wasn’t just Nick’s boss or even his friend. He also wasn’t just Nick’s mentor or role model. He was the man who’d replaced the father Nick had lost in a senseless hit-and-run accident when he was fifteen. And Nick knew he was the son this father of two grown women never had.

  “Good. Glad to hear it.” Leonard’s brilliant grin was replaced with a fond smile.

  The next hour dragged, but Nick toughed it out, aided by a second helping of red-velvet cake. In place of the mountain of wrapped gifts, there was now an assortment of housewares, picture frames, linens and a few articles of rather sexy lingerie that had Leonard guffawing and Candy blushing. One by one, guests were starting to leave.

  Nick supposed he could go, too, and no one would think anything of it. He’d put in an appearance. Even hung around for a while. Instead he stayed, telling himself he was keeping Leonard company. Right. Then why was he constantly seeking out Emma?