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

“You’re the Sparkle lady, aren’t you?” Olivia breathed.

Color rose instantly in her cheeks and she gave a surprised laugh. “I suppose that’s one way to put it.”

“I love that story. It’s my favorite book ever.”

“I’m so happy to hear that.” She smiled again, though he thought she looked a little uncomfortable. “Sparkle is pretty close to my heart, too.”

“My dad bought a brand-new copy for me when I was in the hospital, even though I had one at home.”

She said the words in a matter-of-fact tone as if the stay had been nothing more than a minor inconvenience. He knew better. She had spent two weeks clinging to life in intensive care after an infection had ravaged her system, where he had measured his life by each breath the machines took for her.

Most of the time he did a pretty good job of containing his impotent fury at the senseless violence that had touched his baby girl, but every once in a while the rage swept over him like a brushfire on dry tinder. He let out a breath as he felt a muscle flex in his jaw.

“Is that right?” Celeste said with a quick look at him.

“It’s my very favorite book,” Olivia said again, just in case Celeste didn’t hear. “Whenever I had to do something I didn’t want to, like have my blood tested or go to physical therapy, I would look at the picture of Sparkle on the last page with all his friends and it would make me feel better.”

At Olivia’s words, Celeste’s big eyes filled with tears and she rocked back on her heels a little. “Oh. That’s...lovely. Thank you so much for letting me know. I can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

“You’re welcome,” Olivia said with a solemn smile. “My favorite part is when Sparkle helps the animals with their Christmas celebration. The hedgehog is my favorite.”

“He’s cute, isn’t he?”

The two of them gazed at each other in perfect charity for a moment longer before a boy with blond hair and a prominent widow’s peak tried to draw Celeste’s attention.

“Ms. Nichols. Hey, Ms. Nichols. How do we glue on the hat?”

“I’ll show you. Just a minute.” She turned back to Olivia. “It was very nice to meet you. You’re doing a great job with your snowman. Thanks for letting me know you enjoy the book.”

“You’re welcome.”

When she left, Olivia turned back to her project with renewed effort. She was busy gluing on the button eyes when the woman beside Flynn finally spoke to him.

“You’re new in town. I don’t think we’ve met.” She was blonde and pretty in a classic sort of way, with a baby on her hip. “I’m Caroline Dalton. This is my daughter, Lindy. Over there is my son, Cole.”

He knew the Daltons. They owned much of the upper portion of Cold Creek Canyon. Which brother was she married to?

“Hello. I’m Flynn Delaney, and this is my daughter, Olivia. We’re not really new in town. That is, we’re not staying anyway. We’re here just for a few weeks, and then we’re going back to California.”

“I hope you feel welcome here. This is a lovely place to spend the holidays.”

“I’m sure it is, but we’re not really tourists, either. I’m cleaning out my grandmother’s home so I can put it up for sale.”

He could have hired someone to come and clean out the house. There were companies that handled exactly that sort of thing, but as he and Olivia were Charlotte’s only surviving descendants, he’d felt obligated to go through the house himself.

“Delaney. Oh, Charlotte! She must have been your grandmother.”

“That’s right.”

Her features turned soft and a little sad. “Oh, everyone adored your grandmother. What a firecracker she was! Pine Gulch just doesn’t feel the same without her.”

His life didn’t feel the same, either. He hadn’t seen her often the past few years, just quick semiannual visits, but she had been a steady source of affection and warmth in his chaotic life.

He had barely had the chance to grieve her passing. That bothered him more than anything else. He hadn’t even been able to attend the memorial service members of her church congregation had held for her here. He had been too busy in the ICU, praying for his daughter’s life.

“I miss her, too,” he said quietly.

She looked at him with kindness and warmth. “I’m sure you do. She was an amazing person and I feel blessed to have known her. If you need help sorting through things, please let me know. I’m sure we could find people to give you a hand.”

With only a little more than a week to go before Christmas? He doubted that. People were probably too busy to help.

He didn’t bother to express his cynicism to Caroline Dalton. “Thanks,” he said instead.

“Despite your difficult task, I hope you’re able to find a little holiday spirit while you’re here.”

Yeah, he wasn’t a huge Christmas fan for a whole slew of reasons, but he saw no reason to share that with a woman he’d just met.

“Daddy, I can’t tie the scarf. Can you help me?” Olivia asked.

She could use her left arm and hand. He’d seen her do it at therapy or when she lost herself in an activity, but most of the time she let it hang down uselessly. He didn’t know how to force her into using it.

“Try again,” he said.

“I can’t. It’s too hard,” she answered plaintively. He sighed, not wanting to push her unnecessarily and ruin her tentative enjoyment of the afternoon.

He leaned down to help her tie the felt scarf just as Celeste made her way back around the table to them.

“I love that snowman!” she exclaimed with a smile. “He looks very friendly.”

Olivia’s answering smile seemed spontaneous and genuine. Right then Flynn wanted to hug Celeste Nichols on the spot, even though he hadn’t talked to her for nearly two decades.

His little girl hadn’t had much to smile about over the past few months. He had to hope this was a turning point, a real chance for her to return to his sweet and happy daughter.

At this point, he was willing to bring Olivia to the library every single day if Celeste could help his daughter begin to heal her battered heart.

Chapter Two (#u2f75bc29-2f75-5a37-b22e-990bf425a700)

She was late.

By the time she helped the last little boy finish his snowman, ushered them all out of the meeting room and then cleaned up the mess of leftover pillow stuffing and fleece remnants, it was forty minutes past the time she had told her sisters to expect her.

They would understand, she was sure. Hope might tease her a little, but Faith probably wouldn’t say anything. Their eldest sister saved her energy for the important things like running the cattle ranch and taking care of her children.

She stopped first at the foreman’s little cottage, just down the driveway from the main house. It felt strange to be living on her own again after the past year of being back in her own bedroom there. She had moved back after her brother-in-law Travis died the previous summer so she could help Faith—and Aunt Mary, of course—with the children and the housekeeping.

Hope had lived briefly in the foreman’s house until she and Rafe married this fall. After she’d moved into the house they purchased together, Faith and Mary had taken Celeste aside and informed her firmly that she needed her own space to create. She was a bestselling author now. While Faith loved and appreciated her dearly, she didn’t want Celeste to think she had to live at the ranch house for the rest of her life.

Rather reluctantly, she had moved to the foreman’s cottage, a nice compromise. She did like her own space and the quiet she found necessary to write, but she was close enough to pop into the ranch house several times a day.