Holiday Kisses

“It’s very nice,” Calliope assured her. “Now go find Luke. We’ll see you when you get back.” She pressed a hand against the small of Holly’s back and sent a burst of positive energy directly from her heart.

And then felt the response—a gentle pulse of joy—from not one baby.

But two.

CHAPTER THREE (#ud344b41c-061a-5c7a-858d-48a4292e9f2b)

XANDER CLICKED AND tapped his pen, a nervous habit he’d never kicked from his college days. What did he have to be nervous about? Aside from the fact that the quiet and leisurely pace of Butterfly Harbor made him feel as if he was suddenly moving in slow motion. Sitting in the Butterfly Diner—an eatery that had clearly taken its monarch moniker to heart—should have given him exactly what he needed, a place to sit and revel in the fact he was about to get the family firm back on track.

Instead, doubt had crept in.

He was being ridiculous. He hadn’t taken a wrong turn; he’d done exactly what was expected of him and created a practical, if not boring, blueprint that would be serviceable for whatever plans the town—and its mayor—had made.

What did it matter what one person—Calliope Jones—thought? She hadn’t even seen his ideas. Although, yes, maybe she did have a point. He probably should have at least taken a walk around the property, but the mayor knew he’d done the design sight unseen. And since the mayor’s opinion was really the only one that mattered...

The doubt continued to gnaw at him, eating away at the constant reminder knocking on the back of his head: he couldn’t afford to mess this up. One job. That was all they needed to prove Costas Architecture was still alive and kicking.

His seat beside the plate glass window did indeed afford him a lovely view of the ocean. He could hear the gentle roar and lapping of the waves onto the shoreline across the street and beyond the short stone wall. Every breath he inhaled offered the promise of fresh-baked pastries, grilled onions and hot-out-of-the-oil fries, but right behind was the ever-present scent of sea and air.

The orange-and-black upholstered booths and stools were a nice contrast to the typical red-and-white color scheme of most diners. So far nothing had been predictable where this little town was concerned, and while it might take him longer than expected to get used to the less hurried pace, he decided to make the most of it. If he didn’t die of boredom first.

He sipped his surprisingly delicious coffee and scanned the laminated menu. There was something kitschy about the artistic butterfly renderings scattered around the diner. They dotted the walls and lined the doorframes. There was even a trio of them hanging from fishing line over the cash register, each wearing teeny tiny Santa hats. The holiday season was well represented with the tinsel-and-garland-draped doorways and potted miniature Christmas cacti on each table.

A few more customers arrived as he drank his coffee, filling up booths as their conversations filled the space.

Christmas to him meant snow, hot spiked cider and skiing at his family’s vacation house near Alpine Valley. He supposed there was plenty of holiday spirit to be found sans snow, especially if the not-so-hushed conversation behind him was any indication. The three kids—Stella, whom he had met at the inn, and Charlie and Simon from the beach—sounded inordinately serious as they made plans for some upcoming holiday event by the ocean.

“We have to use all-natural elements,” Simon said in a tone just shy of frustrated. “The only tools we can use are buckets and shovels.”

“But the rules don’t say what kind,” Charlie announced. “And we have to find an adult to be on our team. It’s in the rules.”

“My dad can’t do it,” Simon grumbled. “He has to help with the Santa parade for after the competition.”

“Darn it,” Charlie said. “That probably means mine can’t, either.”

“I don’t have a dad to ask,” Stella said in a way that kicked at Xander’s heart.

“What about Calliope? Would she do it?” Simon asked.

“Maybe?”

Xander heard the doubt in Stella’s voice.

“Sorry for the wait.” Paige set her notepad on his table and tied an apron around her hips. “Crazy day. Hope you weren’t in a rush.”

“Not at all,” Xander assured her. “Sounds like there’s a lot going on in the next few weeks. Holidays a big deal here?”

“From what I hear, they’re a huge deal.” Paige’s eyes sparked like someone had plugged her in. “It’ll be the first Christmas Charlie and I spend here. Have you, um, heard something from over there?” She cast a side-eyed glance at the kids and looked back at him. “Calliope and I were trying to figure out what they were talking about. But if it’s world domination, I don’t want to know.”

“Something about a competition, shovels and buckets.” He shook his head. “I’m stumped.”

“Oh, it’s the gingerbread-sandcastle contest. Now that explains why Charlie’s computer time has been spent looking up images of gingerbread houses.” She let out a sigh of relief. “Thank goodness. I was afraid she wanted to make a real one.”

“Not good with gingerbread?”

“I’m great with it. Up here.” She tapped the side of her head. “Funny how it never turns out the way you imagine it will. Can definitely be an ego-crusher.”

“The trick is doing all the decorations and frosting before you put it together.” Xander grinned at Paige’s wide-eyed stare. “Family tradition. We have a gingerbread-house contest every Christmas.” Usually after a morning of sledding and cider or hot chocolate. An odd longing pulled at his core. His mother made the best hot chocolate.

“Careful or you’ll get sucked in,” Paige warned. “Right, Calliope?” She caught her friend’s arm as the lithe redhead attempted to glide unseen behind her.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“The sandcastle competition. That’s what they’re up to.” Paige jerked her chin toward the kids. “We can rest easy. The world is safe for a while longer at least.”

Xander was tempted to ask for clarification, but all thoughts of conversation shot straight out of his head as Calliope turned toward him. For an instant, it was as if he was trapped in a movie or hokey TV show, where one of the characters begins to move in slow motion. All that was missing was a fan and an 80s rock ballad blasting out of car speakers.

What was it about Calliope Jones that warmed him from the inside? To say she was unexpected sounded like a cliché, but for a man who had dated models, publishing CEOs and, for one particularly entertaining summer, a disavowed princess, Xander couldn’t compare her to any woman he’d ever known. He’d never met anyone who seemed to be comprised completely of energy and light.

She was pretty beneath the mass of long red curls accented with ribbons and bells. Her face was clean of makeup, and her fresh, bright skin glowed. The simple, colorful, ankle-sweeping dress she wore drifted over a subtle figure. Other than a solitary silver butterfly charm situated in the hollow of her throat, she didn’t wear any jewelry, and when he glanced at her hands he saw the telltale hint of darkness under her short, practical nails. A woman who wasn’t afraid of getting her hands dirty.

“I didn’t realize Stella was interested in competing.” Calliope frowned over at her sister before giving her head a quick shake. “I’ll have to talk to her about it.”

“You sound like you disapprove.” He started to laugh until he saw her strained smile.

“Of competition, yes, usually.” She shifted and directed her attention—and her laser-sharp gaze—on him.

“Really? Why?”

“I’ve found pitting people against one another doesn’t necessarily bring out the best in individuals.”

“It’s character-building,” Xander argued and tried to keep his smile in check. He didn’t think she’d appreciate knowing her irritation toward him made her even more appealing.

“Competing against oneself is character-building. Participating in activities that could increase animosity feeds into negativity I’d rather avoid.”

“Gotta disagree with you.” If only because he found arguing with her invigorating. “Win or lose, you learn something. About other people, about yourself. I competed with my older brother constantly when we were growing up. I like to think we turned out okay.”

“Are you friends?”

“Friends?”

“You and your brother. Are you friends?”

“Ah.” Xander had to think about that as an image of his fair-haired brother popped into his head. “Well, yeah, I guess so. We’re brothers. Isn’t that a given?”

“Not always. No.” Calliope’s tone hadn’t changed, but something had. In her stance, in her expression.

“Ah, looks like table three is ready to order.” Paige backed away and held her hands up in surrender as she cast an uneasy look at her friend. “I’ll be back for your order in a bit.”