A Mistletoe Vow: A Cold Creek Christmas Story / Falling for Mr December / A Husband for the Holidays

Olivia smiled a little. “Okay, I guess. My dad didn’t want to bring me, but I asked him and asked him until he finally said yes.”

“I’m so glad,” she said.

She shifted her gaze finally to Flynn and found him watching her with an unreadable look. She was suddenly aware that she must look tousled and harried. She had come straight from work, stopping at home only long enough to let Linus out and yank her hair up into a messy bun. She wore jeans and her favorite baggy sweater, and she was pretty sure her makeup had worn off hours ago.

For just a moment, she wished she could be beautiful and sophisticated instead of what she was—boring.

“Hi,” she said to him. To her dismay, her voice sounded breathless and nervous. “I wasn’t sure you would come.”

“Apparently my daughter is relentless. Kind of like someone else I know.”

She had to smile at the slightly disgruntled note in his voice.

“This will be fun. You’ll see. We’re going to practice until about six thirty. If you have shopping to do or want to go back to work on your grandmother’s house, you’re welcome to return for her then. Actually, I could even drop her off. It’s not far.”

He looked around at the chaos of the jacked-up children and then back at his nervous daughter.

“I believe I’ll stay, if you don’t mind.”

What if she did mind? What if the idea of him watching her for the next two hours made her more nervous than a turkey at Thanksgiving?

She didn’t know what else she could do but nod. “Sure. Of course. There are sofas over by the fireplace where you can make yourself comfortable. If you’d rather be closer to the action here, feel free to bring over a chair.”

“Thanks.”

He then proceeded to take neither of those suggestions. Instead, he leaned against the wall, crossed his arms over his chest and turned his full attention in her direction.

“Right.” She swallowed and glanced at her watch. They should have started practicing five minutes ago.

She clapped her hands loudly and firmly three times to grab everyone’s attention and said in her most firm librarian voice. “By the count of ten, I need everybody to gather around me and freeze in your best Christmas statue pose. Ready? One. Two. Three...”

By the time she hit four, all thirty children—thirty-one now, including Olivia—had made their way to her and adopted various positions. Destry Bowman, one of the older girls, was stretched out on the floor pretending to be asleep. Cute little Jolie Wheeler looked as if she was trying to do a figure eight on skates. Her niece, Louisa, appeared to be reaching on tiptoes for something, and it took Celeste a moment before she realized she was trying to put ornaments on an invisible Christmas tree.

Olivia looked uncertain, standing nervously with her hands clasped in front of her.

Celeste gave her a reassuring smile and then turned her attention to the other children.

“Perfect. Statues, you can all relax now and sit down.”

The children complied instantly and she smiled. They might be a wild bunch but she loved them all. Each was someone whose name she knew, either from being neighbors and friends with their parents or from church or her work at the library.

“Thank you! This is going to be great fun, you’ll see. The senior citizens and your families are going to love it, trust me, and you’ll have fun, too. Are you all ready to put together a great show for your families?”

“Yes!” they shouted as one.

“Let’s get to it, then.”

* * *

He never would have predicted it when he walked into chaos, but somehow the ragtag collection of hyperactive children had calmed down considerably and were working hard together.

Celeste had organized the children into small groups of five or six and assigned one older child to teach them the song or dance they were to perform. She in turn moved between the groups offering words of advice or encouragement, working on a lyric here or a dance move there.

He found it charming to watch, especially seeing her lose her natural reserve with the children.

Was that why she had become a children’s librarian, because she was more comfortable interacting with them? He was curious—but then he was curious about everything that had to do with Celeste Nichols.

Naturally, he kept a careful eye on his daughter, but she seemed to have relaxed considerably since they’d walked in. Just now she was talking and—yes!—even laughing with three children he’d heard call Celeste their aunt, a couple of boys about her age and a girl who appeared to be a few years older.

Had Celeste said something to them, somehow encouraged them to be especially welcoming to Olivia? He wouldn’t have been surprised, but maybe they were as naturally compassionate and caring as their aunt. Whatever the reason, the children seemed to have gone out of their way to show kindness and help her feel more comfortable, which went a long way toward alleviating his own concerns.

He doubted anything could make him feel totally enthusiastic about Olivia performing in the little production, but it helped considerably to see her enjoying herself so much and interacting with her peers.

He wasn’t sure he was ready to admit it, but Celeste might have been right. This little children’s performance in a small community in Idaho might be exactly what Olivia needed to help her begin to heal from the horrors she had endured.

He finally relaxed enough to take a seat on one of the sofas by the fireplace and was reading through email messages from his office on his cell phone when one of the women Celeste had been talking with when he and Olivia arrived took a seat on the sofa across from him.

“Hi, Flynn. You probably don’t remember me, but I’m Hope Santiago. Used to be Nichols. I’m Celeste’s sister.”

Ah. No wonder she had looked familiar, though she only shared green eyes in common with her sister. Instead of Celeste’s silky brown hair and quiet, restful loveliness, Hope Santiago was pretty in a Bohemian sort of way, with long, wavy blonde hair and a cluster of exotic-looking bracelets at her wrist.

He had met her before, he thought, back when he used to come here for the summers.

“Hello. Sure, I remember you. You’re married now. Congratulations.”

She gave a pleased-as-punch smile and gestured through the doorway to what looked like an office where a big, tough-looking dude with a couple of tats was speaking on a cell phone.

“That’s my husband, Rafe. He and I run The Christmas Ranch together.”

“The two of you must just be overflowing with Christmas spirit.”

She chuckled. “We do our best. Thanks for letting your daughter participate in the show. It means a lot to Celeste.”

He wasn’t sure he had exactly “let” Olivia do anything. He’d been steamrollered into it, when all was said and done, but so far things seemed to be working out.

He shrugged. “It’s for a good cause, right? Making some older people happy. That can only be a good thing, right?”

“Exactly.” She beamed at him.

“You’re the artist,” he realized suddenly. “The one who took Celeste’s Sparkle story and turned it into a book.”

She nodded. “That’s me,” she answered.

“They’re charming illustrations that go perfectly with the story,” he told her. “I read the second book again to my daughter last night, for about the twentieth time in just a few days. It’s every bit as sweet as the first one. The two of you make a great team.”

She looked pleased at his words. “Thanks, but Celeste is the creative genius. I just took her fabulous story and drew little pictures to go with it. Any success the Sparkle book has seen is because of her story.”

“That’s funny. She said almost exactly the same thing about you and your illustrations.”