A Mistletoe Christmas: Santa's Mistletoe Mistake / A Merry Little Wedding / Mistletoe Magic

Emotion rose in his throat while he strung the lights and tested each string, vaguely surprised that after all this time they worked.

It was nearly five o’clock by the time he had finished the transformation from an old dusty wagon to a vehicle Santa would be proud of. All he had left to do was lay down fresh hay, put bows on the horses’ ears and strap a band of jingle bells across their backs.

He ate a dinner of leftover chili, and thoughts of Stacy filled his head. She’d been a Christmas freak, ready to put up a tree by Thanksgiving, and decorating the house with spinning Santas and dancing reindeer and all the tinsel and baubles the furniture would hold. She’d been so filled with life, and when she died, she’d stolen the very life out of him.

He’d gone through all the stages of grief, denial and anger, isolation and depression, but he realized now that at some point over the past year he’d moved quietly into tenuous acceptance.

He would always mourn what he’d lost, but he was also tired of being angry and depressed, and something about Melody Martin had pulled him out of his shell of isolation.

After dinner he showered and dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue flannel shirt, and as an afterthought sprayed on a bit of cologne.

He grabbed his suede coat, knowing the night would be cold, and headed back outside to finish up the final touches to the wagon and the horses.

* * *

NERVES JANGLED THROUGH his veins as the time to leave arrived. Crazy, he told himself. It was crazy to be nervous about a simple jaunt down Main Street. It was even crazier to believe that his nerves had to do with Melody sharing the bench seat with him.

At the last minute he grabbed a thick red blanket and tossed it on the bench next to him. He and Melody would get the brunt of the cold as they traveled. Libby would be warmed by the sweet, scented hay that filled the wagon.

The sound of the jingle bells filled the air with a joyous melody, and the lights twinkled along the sides of the wagon as night fell fast. He pulled up in front of Melody’s house at precisely seven o’clock.

It was as if she and her daughter had been standing at the door waiting for him. They burst out of the house, and as he saw Libby’s face light up with such excitement, such joy, he knew at that moment why he’d gone to all the trouble.

“Oh, Mom, it’s beautiful,” she exclaimed.

“It is,” Melody agreed. Her gaze met Jake’s, and he wanted to fall into the warmth that radiated from those beautiful blue eyes. “You shouldn’t have gone to such trouble.”

“What are the horses named?” Libby asked. She jumped up and down, looking cute in a red coat that matched her mother’s.

“Why, Dasher and Dancer, of course,” he replied. “I thought your mother might ride up here next to me, and as you can see, the wagon bed has bales of hay for seats and a nice soft bedding of hay to help keep you warm.”

Libby walked to the back of the wagon and looked inside. “Perfect,” she announced. “Even though I don’t like you much, could you help me up?” she asked him.

He tilted his cowboy hat back just a bit to eye her. “I suppose I could if I heard the magic word.”

“Please,” Libby replied.

She was as light as a feather and as wiggly as a worm as he lifted her into his arms and placed her in the bed of the wagon. She went to the bale of hay directly behind the bench seat.

“I only have one rule,” he said once she was settled. “While we’re going into town, you have to stay sitting down. Once we get to town and slow down, then you can stand up and hang on to the top of the sides.”

“All my friends can stand up when we are in town?” she asked.

“All of your friends? I thought we were only picking up one.”

Libby pulled her coat closer around her and eyed him boldly. “I called some of my other friends this afternoon. Since you want me to like you, I thought you wouldn’t mind.” She blinked long dark lashes innocently.

She was a pip, that one, he thought as he helped Melody up to the bench and then joined her and took the reins. “I should have told you about the other friends earlier, but I didn’t know she’d made the calls until ten minutes before you arrived,” Melody said.

“It’s all right. Maybe this will get me on her good side,” he replied with a smile.

“I asked her this afternoon why she didn’t like you, but she refused to give me an answer.”

“Maybe she’ll warm up to me just a little bit after tonight.” With the jingle of bells and the lights on the wagon casting out in the darkness, and the scent of Melody’s perfume mingling with the fresh smell of pine, a sense of peace stole over him.

“So tell me what you two window-shoppers bought today,” he asked.

As she talked about what stores they’d gone in and what they’d bought, he realized he would gladly listen to her if she were reading a cookbook out loud. Her voice held a joy that he had a feeling was her natural state of mind.

Thankfully he wasn’t haunted by visions of Stacy at his side. His attention was divided between the road and Melody. Her cheeks had turned pink with the wind and her hair quickly became a windblown mass of silky strands.

When they went over a bump in the road, Melody’s laughter mingled with Libby’s, and Jake felt a sense of connection, a wave of utter happiness he hadn’t felt for a very long time. It was delightful, and it was equally dangerous.

He didn’t mind spending some time with his beautiful neighbor and her daughter, but he would never, ever give his heart away again. Been there, done that, and the pain of loss had left him forever incapable of love.

* * *

MELODY SNUGGLED BENEATH the red blanket Jake had provided and listened to the magical sound of childish laughter coming from the bed of the wagon.

It seemed that Libby had invited half the town’s children to join them in their ride. She marveled at Jake’s patience as he stopped by house after house and lifted little bodies into the back.

Seth had been a good man, a good husband, but patience had never been one of his strong suits. She’d often wished he’d display a little more patience to the little girl who had been so enamored of her daddy.

By the time they finally headed down Main Street toward the center square, the back of the wagon was filled with chattering, laughing children.

“Let’s make a real entrance,” he yelled back to the kids. “How about we all start singing ‘Jingle Bells’?” He started them off, his baritone voice sending an unexpected shiver of pleasure up Melody’s spine.

She could smell his cologne, a spicy scent that made her want to find the source. Had he splashed it on his shirt, or was it in the hollow of his throat where she could nuzzle her nose?

Something about Jake Hanson made her feel like a giddy teenager with a crush. Conversation had become impossible between them the moment the children had begun to pile up.

Still, she was happy just sitting next to him, watching the play of emotions on his handsome face. Main Street in Mistletoe was filled with shoppers and people lingering around the beautiful gazebo in the center of the square.

A group of people had begun singing carols, their voices adding to what was already for her a festive night. She wondered how Jake would react if she snuggled closer to him.

The thought flew out of her mind as quickly as it had come. Not only would Jake probably think her forward and inappropriate, Libby would have a hissy fit.

He brought the wagon to a halt in a parking space in front of the center square. “Sit tight,” he said to Melody, and then he got down and went to the back of the wagon to unload the children. “There are ten of you here, and when the wagon gets ready to leave again, there’d better be ten of you back here. You’re only allowed to go directly to the gazebo. Ms. Melody and I will be there in a few minutes.”

He climbed back on the seat as the children all ran toward the gazebo. “We can see them all from here, and I thought if we waited just a bit we’d have a chance to talk.”

“I’d like that,” she replied. “For a man who hates Christmas, you sure pulled out all the stops tonight.”

“The look on Libby’s face was worth it. Besides, Christmas is for kids. Adults don’t have to like it, we just have to endure it.”

“You’re wrong, Jake. Christmas is magic, and it’s magic for everyone. It’s the one time of year people come together and sing about peace on earth, and even the most curmudgeonly of human beings find something to be joyful about.”

“Are you calling me a curmudgeon?” he asked, a teasing twinkle in his eyes.