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

“Thank you, Banner,” she called after him as he left the room.

It must have been the milk, he thought again with a slow shake of his head.

By midmorning Lucy had turned the living room into a Christmas workshop. Banner had provided a generous—and rather surprisingly varied—supply of materials. Colored papers, thin sheets of cardboard, markers, glue, large tubes of silver, red and gold glitter, several colors of ribbon, yarn and fabric scraps. There was also a shoebox filled with buttons of all different shapes, sizes and colors, and a couple of booklets of gold and silver star-shaped stickers.

“Craft supplies?” Lucy asked when he’d carried the big carton of items into the room.

He shrugged. “My great-uncle kept supplies here to entertain his friends’ children when they visited—kept the kids from getting into his tools. I used to play with the craft stuff, myself, when I was a kid. Always looked forward to it—until I got old enough to start working with his tools, which I liked even better. I found this carton in one of the storage closets after I moved in, and I thought it might come in handy someday.”

She gave him a grin. “Looks like it’s ‘someday.”’

“Apparently,” he agreed with that slight quirk of his lips that she had finally decided was a smile.

Now, warmed by the crackling fire, Joan and the children sat around the coffee table happily making paper chains and ornaments for the tree Banner and Bobby Ray had gone out to find. The dog snoozed beneath the round oak table, seeming to enjoy the company.

Miss Annie knitted contentedly in her rocker, while Pop strung popcorn on fishing line. His hands were a bit gnarled, but he handled the needle skillfully. “I’ve strung plenty of popcorn in my day,” he boasted. “Done my share of sewing, too.”

Lucy studied the scene with a touch of smugness. Very domestic. The children were laughing and the adults were all smiling. The appetizing scent of popcorn filled the room, and the flickering of the candles that lightened the shadowy corners added an old-world charm.

What a clever idea she’d had, she thought as she turned toward the kitchen to pour herself another cup of coffee. Now everyone was happy again.

She had just stepped into the room when the kitchen door flew open with a bang and Banner carried Bobby Ray into the house.

Of course, Banner wasn’t exactly carrying the much larger man, but he was obviously supporting him as Bobby Ray limped inside, a painful grimace behind his beard. Forgetting the coffee, Lucy rushed forward. “What happened? Bobby Ray, are you hurt?”

It was a stupid question, she realized as Banner lowered the other man into a chair. But Bobby Ray answered patiently. “I’m okay. Just took a spill on the ice, that’s all. Bruised, but no real damage.”

Having heard Lucy’s cry, Joan came in to see what was going on. She took one look at the men and hurried to the percolator. “You both look half-frozen.”

Banner and Bobby Ray had peeled off their hats and gloves, revealing faces reddened by cold and fingers that moved stiffly as they reached for the steaming mugs Joan offered them. Lucy bit her lower lip in guilt. She had been so focused on having a Christmas tree for the children that she hadn’t given enough thought to the dangers of trudging around on a sheet of ice.

She moved closer to Bobby Ray. “Are you sure nothing’s broken? Maybe I should look at your injury to see how bad it really is.”

Banner cleared his throat.

Bobby Ray gave a bark of laughter. “I don’t think so, Lucy. Truth is, my feet flew out from under me and I landed flat on my—” he glanced at Joan, then concluded “—on my behind. Just bruised my tailbone, that’s all. It’s sore as he—er, heck, but I’ll be all right.”

“You should at least take a pain reliever.”

Banner moved to the pantry, took out a plastic bottle of ibuprofen, and tossed it to Bobby Ray, who caught it in one big hand. Lucy noted that Banner’s expression was shuttered, so that she couldn’t read his thoughts. Which, she decided with a grimace, was probably just as well.

He caught her eyes as he moved toward the back door again. “I’ll go out and build a stand for the tree,” he said, handing her his empty mug when he passed her.

Setting the mug on the counter, she turned to follow Banner out onto the back porch, leaving Joan to see to Bobby Ray. The frigid air hit her like a hard kick, driving the breath from her lungs. It hung in a frosty cloud in front of her. She crossed her arms over her thick sweatshirt and shivered. “You found a tree?”

Pulling his hat back onto his head, Banner nodded. “A small cedar that managed to miss most of the ice because it was under several larger trees. It’s over by my workshop.”

“Do you need any help?”

“No, I can handle it. Looked as if you’re keeping things under control in there. Why don’t you go back inside? You don’t even have on a coat.”

“I feel guilty,” she admitted. “You’ve been out here in the cold and ice finding a tree you didn’t want in the first place while I’ve been in your warm house watching the kids make decorations you didn’t ask for. Bobby Ray got hurt and you—”

“Wait a minute.” He set his hands heavily on her shoulders and looked straight into her eyes. “When those kids came into the kitchen this morning, they were the saddest sight I ever saw. Now they’re in there laughing and having a good time getting into the Christmas spirit, and all because you had the clever idea to have them make decorations. There’s no reason at all for you to feel guilty.”

She looked up at him through her lashes. “But Bobby Ray—”

“Bobby Ray bruised his butt,” Banner interrupted inelegantly. “I saw him fall, and I’m confident he’ll be fine. Just sore. And I’m sure he would risk falling again if it meant making the kids happy. He told me he hated seeing them so sad.”

Banner’s reassurances made her feel better. Though she was self-conscious about standing so close to him and having his hands on her, she found herself in no hurry to move away.

“If it hadn’t been for you,” he went on, “I wouldn’t have known what to do with everyone today. The kids would probably be whining and crying and bringing everyone else down, and it would have been miserable. Believe me, you have nothing to feel guilty about.”

She smiled up at him. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

That statement made her laugh. “Trust me, that’s one thing I have figured out about you.”

His gaze dropped slowly to her smiling mouth, then lingered there. She felt her smile fade in response to his expression. They stood so close together their breath mingled into a single hazy cloud—and there was something uncomfortably intimate about that observation.

“You’re cold,” Banner said after a moment. “You should go back inside.”

Cold? Funny, at that moment, he wasn’t at all aware of the cold. She actually felt a bit warm in some places.

But the shiver that ran through her wasn’t entirely due to sexual awareness. Reluctantly she took a step backward, and Banner’s hands fell to his sides. Suddenly she felt the cold again. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”

He nodded, stuck his hands in his coat pockets, turned and headed toward his workshop, placing his feet with care on the icy path. Lucy watched him for a moment longer, until the cold drove her back inside.

* * *

While the others stayed busy making decorations, Lucy and Joan went into the kitchen at just before one that afternoon to prepare lunch. Even from in there, they could hear the slightly off-key strains of “Jingle Bells” being sung in the living room.

Pop, they had discovered, loved to sing, and he particularly loved to sing Christmas carols. Bobby Ray had pulled out a battered old guitar he claimed was never far from his side; he hadn’t left it in the truck because he said the damp cold was bad for the wood and the strings. Pop and Bobby Ray had been leading the children in familiar holiday tunes for the past half hour.

“Pop’s a sweet man, isn’t he?” Joan asked Lucy as they opened the pantry door. “He reminds me of my grandfather.”

Lucy smiled. “That’s what Bobby Ray said.”

Joan bit her lip. “Did he?”

“Yes. Bobby Ray’s nice, too. Very funny, and so kind to Miss Annie and the kids. Although he snores like a freight train and can’t carry a tune in a bucket,” she added with a chuckle. “But he does play the guitar well.”

“He does seem nice,” Joan agreed hesitantly. “I have to admit I was a bit intimidated by him at first. He’s so large and hairy.”

“Rather like Banner’s dog,” Lucy murmured.

Joan smiled a little. “Bobby Ray’s louder. I haven’t heard the dog so much as yip since we got here.”