Mistletoe Baby

They set off at a brisk pace, Rachel’s breath puffing out in foggy bursts. If she was lucky, she might even lose a pound or two before the wedding and her trip home. Should she return to South Carolina at her current weight, her mom—a slim woman with a closet full of Power Suits—would cluck her tongue disapprovingly. Mrs. Nietermyer had mastered the many fine nuances of Clucking 101. Mr. Nietermyer habitually called his wife honey, but Rachel swore that, once or twice, what he’d really said was henny.

Lost in her thoughts and the steady rhythm of the dogs’ toes clicking on the pavement, she was startled when Hildie shot after a trio of sparrows.

“Whoa!” Rachel gripped the leash tightly. “Sit. Sit.”

No one listened. Instead, Hildie’s sudden dash whipped the other two dogs into a fervor. They quickly tangled their lines, threatening to ensnare Rachel. She managed to sidestep Bristol, but tripped over Rembrandt. Falling toward the sidewalk, Rachel reflexively braced herself with one hand. Which was, she acknowledged as pain radiated up her arm, stupid. She was lucky she hadn’t broken her wrist. Of more immediate concern, however, was that, in thrusting her hand out, she’d let go of Hildie’s leash. The little terror went flopping toward the spot where the birds had been.

Dammit. Cold seeped through the layers of cotton covering her butt.

Rachel got to her feet and approached the puppy slowly, not wanting to chase her into the intersection. Though it was still early, some people would be leaving for work soon and the dog wouldn’t be easily visible in the early-morning light. Scanning the area for any threats or surprises, Rachel sidled toward the mutt. When movement caught her eye, she turned and saw someone cresting the hill on the parallel sidewalk. A jogger, whose gait and clothes she recognized even at a distance.

She’d always thought that particular blue T-shirt brought out the color in her husband’s eyes. Her heart thumped against her ribs. She turned to Hildie. “If you will come to me right now, I swear you can have as many puppy treats as you want when we get home.”

Hildie yipped once, scooting farther away and wagging her tail in appreciation of the new game.

“Dog, I am not playing with you. Get over here.” Now the footsteps across the street were audible. Slap, slap. Slap, slap. Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. Maybe she wasn’t actually outside at dawn with three dogs who’d alternately tried to escape and hog-tie her. Maybe she was simply having a nightmare. Her dreams, when she slept long enough to have them, had been bizarrely vivid of late.

“Rach?” Opposite her, David slowed to a stop. The inquisitive note in his voice probably stemmed from wondering why the heck she was out stalking an ill-behaved puppy instead of comfortably drinking coffee in Winnie’s kitchen while the dogs cavorted in their own backyard. Rachel was wondering the same thing herself.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” she said. She’d been so relieved to be out of the oppressive atmosphere in their house that she hadn’t considered she would be walking dogs in the same neighborhood where he routinely ran. Somewhat unnecessarily, she added, “Hildie got away from me.”

Hearing her name, the adolescent mongrel yipped again, sounding proud of herself. Rachel entertained a couple of fantasies that would probably not be appreciated by animal activists. David rocked back on his heels, his fledgling smile achingly familiar yet a little surprising, too. There was real amusement there and less of the strain she’d become accustomed to seeing.

“Need a little help?” he called.

“Thanks, but I’ve got it. You probably just got your pulse rate in the right zone or whatever. Don’t let us derail you.” Wrapping the remaining leash tightly around her hand, she crouched down and whistled at Hildie. “Here, girl! C’mere, baby.”

Hildie took about two steps in Rachel’s direction, then turned and dashed across another yard, into the Stephensons’ driveway.

There was a muffled laugh from David’s direction, and Rachel snapped her head toward him, heat blooming in her cheeks.

As David crossed the street, her pride warred with practicality. The charm of the early-morning walk had faded, and Rachel was looking forward to getting out of the cold and spending a few dog-free moments in a hot shower. He stepped up on the curb, extending a hand so carefully that she might have laughed if she weren’t so miserable. Something about David’s manner mirrored the way she was advancing on the skittish dog.

Up close, Rachel couldn’t help noticing the slight crinkle of laugh lines at the corners of his eyes. He had a great face. Masculine and friendly and reassuring and sexy all at the same time. Sometimes she just—

“Here, let me at least hold the other two while you round up the little one.”

She nodded, untangling the leash from her hand and passing it to him. David’s fingers closed over hers. Zing. In the early rays of the morning, with two labs watching her as if she was a moron and an undisciplined puppy leading her on a merry chase, Rachel Waide experienced the most surprising jolt. David’s fingers were warm but the tiniest bit rough—no girly moisturizing lotion for him, thank you very much—and the scent of him was musky and male. Her pheromones reacted with an interest they hadn’t shown in months, causing an actual twinge between her thighs.

Her jaw dropped.

“You all right?” David narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing her.

Oh, please, please, don’t let him be able tell. Did he know her well enough to guess that she was unbelievably, unmistakably aroused? She was mortified. Was she one of those emotionally stunted people who only wanted someone they couldn’t have? Why was she having this inconvenient reaction now?

Maybe it was a Pavlovian response. After all, he was the only man she’d been with in years, and her body hadn’t yet adjusted to the idea of never touching him again. Never kissing him, never waking in his arms, never—

Hildie barked, mercifully interrupting the mental tangent. Circling the dog, Rachel spoke in a nonstop, cajoling murmur, forcing herself to stand patiently as Hildie got closer. Inch by irritating inch. Rachel waited until she knew with absolute certainty that victory was in her reach before she pounced, catching the wiggling puppy in her hands. Hildie’s brown eyes were wide as she licked Rachel’s cheek.

“Don’t bother with the cute,” Rachel warned. “You are in big trouble, young lady.”

David met her halfway, giving her the other leashes along with a curious once-over. “So, you’re settled in okay at Winnie’s?”

Rachel nodded. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“Really?”

No, not really. But she had to learn how to stand on her own two feet again. She moved her shoulders in a noncommittal shrug.

He bent at the waist, doing a few stretches in preparation for resuming his run. “Well, maybe we’ll meet like this again.”

She laughed ruefully. “I hope not! Somehow I don’t think morning walks are going to become a habit.”

“Guess not.” His smiled had faded. “See you at my parents’ on Friday?”

The whole family was gathering to trim the Christmas tree. She could make an excuse to get out of it, except she’d skipped it last year. As she recalled, that had been the day she’d learned she wasn’t pregnant—again—and the thought of pretending to be in a festive, holiday mood…Not that this would be her most festive year, but it would be her last Christmas as a Waide. Was it selfish to want these final precious memories, to store them away in a mental scrapbook?

Maybe one day she could reexamine those memories and remember just the warmth and good times, without the paralyzing grief.

“I’ll be there,” she said. They’d also see each other on Saturday, but there’d be a bigger crowd at the party for Lilah and Tanner so maybe it wouldn’t be too awkward. Who are you kidding? She’d be attending a couples’ shower with her estranged husband.

David nodded. “See you this weekend, then.”

As he started off again, she added, “Thanks for your help. I’m grateful our paths crossed.”

He smiled over his shoulder, but didn’t answer. She stared after his back, wondering how he felt.

Down the road, would he be glad that their paths had crossed five years ago, that he’d overcome her laughing protestations that she was only in town for a short while and had no plans to get involved with someone here? Or would he end up wishing he’d simply stayed on his side of the street and let the woman from South Carolina pass by without disrupting his life?

DAVID GRIMACED as he reached for the canister of coffee high in the supply cabinet. His sore muscles protested. Maybe he didn’t need caffeine that badly after all. Maybe what he needed was to stop pushing himself as if he were an indestructible kid half his age. After his encounter with Rachel, he’d sprinted a double circuit through the subdivision, trying to outrun the effect of seeing her.

She’d looked disarming and maddeningly adorable, all bundled up. Her eyes had been bright, almost silvery, and spots of color had livened a face that had been far too pale for far too long. This morning she’d reminded him of the woman he’d married, not the much quieter, pinched version she’d become. Seeing the improvement one night had made, he was forced to conclude that she’d been right—she was better off without him. A groan of enraged despair rumbled in his throat.

“David?” His mother’s voice, lilting in question, startled him. He’d thought he was alone in the employees-only hallway behind the store.

“Mom.” His arms dropped quickly to his sides, as if she’d caught him reaching for forbidden cookies. “I didn’t know you were in this morning.”

“Brought over some more ornaments for Ari to display. You do a great job running the store, just like your father always has, but neither of you excel when it comes to decorating for the customers.”

Decorating. He thought about his house, which was completely devoid of holiday cheer. Their first year of marriage, Rachel had barely waited for Thanksgiving before she started asking if it was too soon to put up Christmas lights. She’d seemed so happy then, as he’d promised her she’d be if she moved here to Mistletoe, enthusiastic to build their life together.

Susan brought him back to the present. “Why were you growling in the hallway?”

“I, uh, can’t reach the coffee.”

She skewered him with a raised eyebrow, then turned to open the janitorial closet behind her, revealing a small step stool that he’d known perfectly well was there. “God knows I love your brother and how spirited he is, but he was the one more likely to stubbornly pursue the impossible with no real plan on how to achieve it. You were the solution-finder.”

Really? Because David was fresh out of solutions. Feeling foolish, he picked up the stool and retrieved the coffee. “Lack of caffeine makes me grouchy. And stupid.”