Must Love Mistletoe

Chapter 24

The cyclone fence gate clanged shut, a depressing sound to go with the day’s weather. After weeks of clear afternoons, the sun had been no match for today’s thick fog. The dreary stuff weighted down roofs, wrapped itself around stoplights, wiggled between the leaves of the trees. It made it even easier for Bailey to turn her back on the mint-green stucco apartment complex she’d just visited. No, she wasn’t sad to leave the depressing place, just as she wasn’t going to be sad to leave anything else in Coronado.

Telling herself she should be happy to check off one of the final impediments to her departure, she turned toward her car, then stumbled as she stopped short.

“Watch out, GND,” Finn said, materializing out of the gray gloom. “If you trip and fall on Christmas Eve, it’ll mean a long afternoon in the emergency room waiting your turn among the results of all those family brawls and ugly scotch tape incidents.”

“Who’s the cynic now?” she murmured, ducking her head to observe him through the shield of her lashes. Since that beach bonfire, his car had come and gone from his grandmother’s house and she’d seen people knock on the door with casseroles in hand and then go away without them, but she hadn’t seen Finn. Today he was all cool pirate again, his expression unreadable, even with bright presents stacked high in his arms.

“It looks as if we both can be soft-hearted on occasion,” he said. “Unless you only dropped by our friend Angel’s place to debunk the Santa myth this time.”

All I can tell you is that you just gotta believe.

She’d told the little boy that, which meant she’d had to follow through with providing a small measure of Christmas magic, didn’t she? Gifts from a couple of near-perfect strangers should do that.

“The family isn’t home,” she told Finn, which she thought made the whole thing even better. Anonymous gifts were pretty darn close to Santa Claus, weren’t they? “But I left mine with the landlady and she promised to pass them along once they return later today.”

“I’ll do the same,” he said. “Thanks for the tip.” With a businesslike nod, he started to move past her. As if they were near-strangers.

“Finn.”

He paused. “Yeah?”

“Well…Um…” Bailey wiped her palms on her jeans and tried not to remember that this was the man who’d made love to her with such fierce tenderness that she could still feel the imprint of his mouth on the skin between her shoulder blades. She tried not to remember the heated scorn in his voice when he’d told her on the beach she was nothing to him. That he didn’t trust her.

She’d known from the beginning he was a man without patience for pretending.

“My mother wanted to invite you over for Christmas Eve dinner.” Bailey didn’t add that she’d immediately nixed the idea, but Tracy would be happy to add another plate to the table even now. “We’re having turkey and all the trimmings around five.”

“You tell her thanks for me…but no.” He made to move off again.

Move out of her life. Okay, she was the one leaving, but just like…like this?

“Finn.”

He turned again.

And he was so beautiful to her, she didn’t think she could choke out a good-bye. Maybe she didn’t deserve one.

“GND?”

Bailey jerked the thoughts out of her head. Tried a smile. “Nothing. Just…nothing.”

And the last she saw of him was the shrug as he walked away.

The fog deepened as she traveled the half block to her car. Champagne bubble-sized drops of moisture clung to the ends of her hair. As if there was anything worth celebrating, she grumbled to herself, unlocking her door.

Except, of course, the fact that she would be back in L.A. tomorrow.

She slipped inside, then reached over to dump her purse on the passenger seat. It was already occupied.

On it sat a small package, wrapped in Christmas paper printed with mistletoe. As if it might bite, Bailey put out a finger and touched the cool top. There wasn’t any gift tag.

But it had to be for her. And she knew of only one person whose early career included breaking into cars.

There weren’t any instructions included either. Nothing that said, “Wait until Christmas” or “Open me now.”

There didn’t have to be. Even without any words, it was already shouting at Bailey. Get out before things get ugly.

When is that? Bailey thought, staring at the package. Maybe she should have asked her father the question ten years before. When is it too soon…and when is it too late to save what’s left of your heart?

Bailey Sullivan’s Vintage Christmas

Facts & Fun Calendar

December 25

Charlie Brown asks in A Charlie Brown Christmas: “Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”