Bride Under the Mistletoe: The Magic of a Family Christmas

Please, let Miss Wendy and Cullen get married and adopt me.

He made the wish quickly, just as he had the other two times he’d wished.

The first time he’d wished they’d get married and adopt him had been at the door of Miss Wendy’s work, when she’d slipped on the ice. He’d seen her and Cullen look at each other funny like Jimmy Franklin’s mom and dad looked at each other, and he knew they could be a mom and dad. His mom and dad. So he’d wished and when he was done wishing the bell rang.

Then, when she came back from getting the radio, she and Cullen had looked at each other funny again, he’d wished again and church bells had rung.

He snuggled more deeply into the pillow, a plan forming in his head. What if he made the wish every time he heard a bell ring? He’d tried to wish that his mom would get well and that wish hadn’t worked. But maybe that was because he didn’t have a bell? So this time, he’d wish every time he heard a bell. And maybe his wish would come true.

CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_f72aa3c2-8122-5749-942e-c403d0ccdc92)

WENDY woke first. Sunlight poured in from the big window behind the sofa. Guessing it was probably around nine o’clock, she sat up and her back protested.

“Floor’s not the most comfortable place to sleep,” Cullen whispered.

“You can say that again.” She pulled in a breath and smiled ruefully. “My coffeemaker’s electric, but if you’d like some tea, we can make that.”

“Anything with caffeine is fine.”

She rolled over to lift herself off the floor. On the other side of Harry, Cullen did the same.

While Cullen went upstairs to change out of his sweatpants and T-shirt, Wendy boiled water for tea. He returned to her kitchen dressed in dark trousers and a black-and-beige-striped sweater. Her stomach took a tumble. He was so damned good-looking.

She turned back to the stove, poured boiling water over tea bags in two cups and brought them to the table.

“You were very good with Harry last night,” he said.

“You’re no slouch yourself.”

He laughed. “Thank you.” He toyed with his tea bag. “So what’s the story with him?”

“Right after he and his mom moved in next door, his mom was diagnosed with cancer.” She dipped her tea bag in and pulled it out, testing the strength of her tea. “I started visiting once a week to see if she needed anything and soon I was helping her get through chemo. Eventually I was doing pretty much everything at her house.” She smiled at the memory. “Including reading Harry a story every night and tucking him in.”

“So social services considered you a good candidate to take him in while they look for his dad?”

She snorted a laugh. “Not even close. His mom gave me custody in her will.”

“Oh.”

Cullen’s voice was full of such happy surprise that Wendy shook her head. “Don’t get excited. His biological father has first right to custody no matter what Betsy’s will says.”

“But I can tell you’d really like to be the one to raise him.”

She nodded. “I think I could be a great mom. I already love Harry and the thing he needs more than anything right now is just plain love.”

“I’m surprised you don’t have children of your own.”

She licked her lips, so tempted to be honest and confide in him. But she knew the bond they’d formed over the past twenty-four hours was an aberration, so she’d tell him the basics and keep the heartache to herself. “My husband and I were waiting to be more financially secure to have children.”

He inclined his head in acknowledgment, holding her gaze as if he knew there was more and waited for her to admit it. When she stayed silent, he said, “So the bottom line is your arrangement with Harry is only temporary.”

The fact that he didn’t probe or push relieved her as much as disappointed her. She supposed she secretly hoped he wanted the bond, but not pushing her to elaborate proved he didn’t.

“There are lots of ways this could play out. They could find his dad and his dad could take him. Or they could find his dad and he could tell them he doesn’t want Harry—”

Cullen’s eyes widened. “Doesn’t want Harry?”

She shook her head. “Harry told me he hasn’t seen his dad in so long he doesn’t remember what he looks like. He thinks he’s in prison.”

“That’s not good.”

Avoiding his gaze, she bobbed her tea bag in and out of the hot water in her cup. “In any event, I have him until they find his dad.”

He caught her gaze. His dark eyes were serious and sincere. “That’s too bad. I think you’re a good pair.”

She smiled. “Thanks.”

The kitchen became silent as Wendy pulled her tea bag from her cup and added milk and sugar. After taking a sip, she said, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

She shrugged. “I might not have spilled the entire story of my life, but you now know things lots of people at the plant don’t know. I think it’s only fair you tell me something about yourself so we can keep each other’s secrets.”

“Honestly, there isn’t much to tell. When my parents finally retired, five years ago, they moved to Miami with me, and my dad and I started a small investment firm.”

“You have a job?”

“Of course I have a job.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry. I just pictured you in Miami boating, going to parties, taking private jets to Vegas to gamble.”

He laughed. “I can still do all that. Rather than create a big firm like my dad had here in Pennsylvania, we kept our Miami firm small. I make appointments when I want them. Schedule myself off a lot. So your guess isn’t too far off the mark.”

She said, “Ah,” and their gazes caught. The sizzle from the day before returned. But this time they both knew it was pointless. He was a strong man who clearly arranged his life the way he wanted it. Just as her late husband had done. Because Greg was so determined, so forceful, so focused, so sure of what he wanted, she’d lost the opportunity to have what she wanted…children with him. She vowed she’d never get involved with that kind of man again.

Plus, she might be bolder now, but she was still a small-town woman whose fondest wish was to get custody of the little boy next door. Even if she wanted to take a risk with her new-found independence with someone as clear about his life goals as Cullen seemed to be, she was too simple, too average to fit into his extravagant, exciting world.

They couldn’t be further apart if they tried.

The refrigerator motor started. The microwave beeped. The kitchen lights popped on.

Wendy pulled away from Cullen’s gaze. “Talk about timing.”

He laughed and glanced down at his half-empty tea cup. “Yeah.”

“So, are you ready for coffee?”

He shook his head. “I’ll get some on the way to the office.”